You're standing too close to a flame that's burning
Hotter than the sun in the middle of July
Sending out your army, but you still can't win
Listen up, silly boy, 'cause I'm gonna tell you why
--I burn - Jeff Williams RWBY Vol 1
Hearing the screams come from the dimly lit wooded area, Xandra cringed. That scream didn’t sound good. She was terrified that something bad was going to happen to the woman who was screaming. Not on her watch, she thought to herself as she sprinted over to where the scream came from. She got there just in time to see a masked figure pull the trigger of his nine millimeter gun. Shooting the blonde woman. The masked figure chuckled darkly as he tossed the gun to Xandra. Not wanting to risk the gun going off again, she caught it. Shit. She thought as she caught the gun. Now her prints were on the gun. Fuck, she thought. This wasn’t going to be good. She needed to call the police but she knew how it would look. As she glanced down at the woman again, she noticed that it was a woman she knew. This was one of the women she knew because of her ex, Phil had been cheating on her with the blonde. Now she knew that this wasn’t going to look good on her. She was going to get in trouble for this. Groaning, she went over and checked to see if the woman was still breathing.
Much to her surprise, the woman was. She however, was bleeding out quickly from the wound in her chest. The blonde looked up at Xandra and reached out and grabbed her hand. The woman choking on her own blood. Xandra knew that there was nothing that she would be able to do. The woman was dying right there. She only had seconds before she would die. The purple haired woman held her hand as she pulled her phone out with her free hand after she set the gun down. She quickly dialed 9-1-1. It was her only option. She knew that it would look horrible on her but it’s what she needed to do. When dispatch answered she told them her location and that there was a woman bleeding to death. Explained the situation to the dispatcher. She was told to stay put. Which she knew that she needed to do. Shit, she thought. She couldn’t allow this to be pinned on her. So, she knew that there was one phone call that she needed to make.
After she hung up with dispatch, she quickly scrolled through her contacts until she found Theodore’s number. Theo had been the only kid from her childhood that she still kept in contact with. They had briefly been in a foster home together. Since both of them were put into the system when they were eleven. They had quite a bit in common. Including the fact that their birthdays were only a day apart. Theo was October 30th while she was the 31st. He was an agent for the FBI. If anyone knew her better than herself it would be him. She just hoped that he would answer his phone. They hadn’t been in contact recently. She placed the phone to her ear as soon as she clicked the dial button on his contact number. “Come on Theo, pick up. Please.” she muttered as she looked down at the woman who had finally dropped her hand. She was gone. Xandra knew it, the woman her name was Candice Davis.
Tears stung the back of her eyes as she waited for Theo to answer her call. She was prepared to leave him a voicemail if she needed to. She just hoped that she wouldn’t need to. She could hear the sirens in the distance. Xandra knew that she was about to be taken away in handcuffs since she had Candice’s blood on her, the gun and was the only one on the scene. She glanced around to see if there was anything that would help her prove that it wasn’t her that had murdered the woman. Honestly, Xandra had forgotten about her. Phil was just a past relationship for her. She had moved on and was very happy now. Looked like that happiness was about to end if this went out she figured that it would.
The brunette hid in her room as she heard a knock at the door. She prayed that it wasn’t another client of the man she lived with. She didn’t even live with her father. Her father wanted nothing to do with her. Instead she lived with the man that had bought her mother eleven years ago. Xandra had been curious and always asked questions about her father and Alejandro had always told her everything she wanted to know. Alejandro had been very malicious towards her and told her a lot that no one would ever want her, including her father. Which, she believed him. After all, her father was nowhere to be found. He rarely spoke to her. There had been a few phone calls here and there, but nothing major. She had longed for a loving father, but that would never happen and she knew it. Xandra could feel the panic creeping in as she heard Alejandro speaking rather rudely to whoever was at the door. That was her only indication that it wasn’t a client that would come and use and abuse her in her own home. If you could even call it a home.
“Alejandro, muévete. Tiene un menor que no es su hijo. La estamos deteniendo!!” she heard the loud voice yell before a loud thumb rang in her ears. This wasn’t good. Oh no. She was terrified. What was going on? She felt the tears fall down her cheeks. Soon a large man and a woman opened the door to her small bedroom. The woman came up to her and told her to gather her things that she was being taken to New York. She had no idea why, all she knew was that the uniform meant that she could trust them, right? The small girl told the officers that she had nothing of importance. She slipped on the worn pair of shoes that Alejandro had gotten her. They were far too small and tight on her but they were all she had. Xandra wasn’t sure why she was going to New York, but it had to be better than this hell hole, right?
Before she got to the police van, she was stopped by her neighbor who handed her a box and told her that before her mother had gone into labor with her that she had given it to her to give to her when she was finally getting out. Turns out, that the woman next door had gathered enough information to turn Alejandro in and Raphael. She had worked with quite a few people in the community to get them both brought down. Since they had banded together to do that, any kids or women in the possession of Alejandro or Raphael were going to be released. Kids were being taken to New York, where they would have a higher chance of getting adopted into a great family. At the age of eleven, her seemed to be looking up. Hopefully, this would mean that she would never have to pleasure an old man again, or be forced to have sex when she didn’t want to have sex. Could this be her new start? Xandra couldn’t help but wonder what would be in store for her now that she was going to New York. There were so many questions. Yet, nothing seemed to answer them.
Arriving in New York:
The police officers had been very kind to her. They had gone out of their way to help her feel more comfortable. The woman, Officer Mendez took her to the store to get a new pair of shoes, book bag, clothes, brush, toothbrush, and other basic needs. Officer Mendez even bought her a stuffed animal to keep with her. The woman assured Xandra that it would be much better in New York for her. That she would be able to get adopted. She also made sure Xandra knew that they were granting her full citizenship without having to take a long test to gain it. That part didn’t make much sense to her but supposedly it was because the United States wanted her biological father and his men to be taken down just as much as the Dominican government. There for they were granting her citizenship in exchange for being able to take Raphael and Alejandro into custody and put them in prison in the United States if they were ever to get out.
Xandra knew that this was a fresh start, but she couldn’t help but feel even more alone now than what she was when she was living with Alejandro. She came to New York with nothing. The small brunette could feel tears burning the back of her eyes once again. This was terrifying. Who was she supposed to go to when she got into the airport? The brunette glanced around as she got to a big open area of the airport where people were rushing around. There were a few people holding signs with names on it. What surprised her was when she saw her name on one of those signs along with a few other names. Timidly she walked up to the elderly woman. She was a social worker who was there to pick up all the children that would be going into the foster care system. It was Xandra and a few other children around her age. At the time, she didn’t know that one of those very kids was her half sister.
Later that day, was when Xandra was taken to her foster home. Where she would be staying for a short time until they found a permanent placement for her. The home was overrun with children. The couple in their forties had three of their own children and then four including her that were foster kids. The house was a mess, the couple was mean, the kids were very mean to her as well. Xandra already hated the place. That very first night, she vowed to herself to hide her emotions from everyone since the kids and the couple were malicious towards her when she woke up crying in the middle of the night. The brunette was terrified to be in a new place with no one she knew. That was the first time that Xandra prayed that things would get better and actually meant it. Sure, living with Alejandro was horrible. This was just as bad in its own way. At least she didn’t have to have sex against her will anymore.
What if Raphael took Xandra from her mother after her birth and never gave her mother a chance to keep her.
**Mentions of rape, murder, miscarriages.**
The petite woman grumbled under her breath as her father told her that she needed to do better. He was very displeased with her. She never pleased the men she was supposed to. Her father told her numerous times that many stopped requesting her and preferred to get Gabriella. Gabby must have just went with it, possibly too scared to anger their father. Where Xandra was the complete opposite. She just couldn’t. She fought as hard as she could. She wanted nothing more than to get out of this life. This isn’t what her life should be like. “ ¿Me estás escuchando, estúpida zorra?” her father’s voice rang out loudly. He was back to screaming at her. Raphael was such an awful man. He treated his daughters vastly different. Xandra never understood why. She loved her sister, but there were times that she really became envious of her.
“Si” she deadpanned in reply to her father. She just wanted to go to her room. The rule he had set place in their home was that their rooms were their safe place. No man should touch them in any way while they were in their rooms. “Te escucho, señor.” she replied to her father. Trying to just get him to let her go. Except her speaking to him seemed to piss him off even more. His hand raised up and flew forward before Xandra could move away. Her father struck her cheek. The brunette fell into a heap on the floor. She knew better than to look up at the man. Instead she stayed on the floor, her hand on her cheek as she looked down at the floor below her. Tears burned the back of her eyes. Do not cry. Do not cry. She chanted in her head. Even though she really wanted to cry. She could feel the bruise forming on her face. Just another bruise that she would have to cover up before she went and met with the next client for her father. Did Gabby have to cover up bruises from their father? Was he this abusive towards her?
“Ve, ya no quiero verte. Chavo es a quien verás pronto. Espero que le muestres un MUY buen tiempo Xandra, o si no.” her father spoke to her while she stayed on the floor. Xandra fought the tears but she knew that as soon as her father left the room to go back to his study or to his wife, that the tears would flow down her cheeks. Hearing that she would be seeing Chavo, she wanted to cry even harder. Chavo was one of her father’s right hand men. Her father adored Chavo as if he was a son that he never had. She dreaded dealing with him. He was the worst she had to deal with. He enjoyed her fighting him off. It got him off. Which is why he always requested her rather than her sister. If he had ever even had her sister. Good. She thought. Gabby should never have to deal with this asshole. Her father left the room to go and do something and just like she had thought hear tears broke free and she silently weeps on the floor. Hearing the door open, she tried to will the tears away and pull herself up off of the floor. Once she had gotten her body up off of the floor, she heard the dreaded voice of Chavo. The man was only slightly older than her twenty-seven years old. He was about thirty. Yet, he was such an awful person. It wasn’t a wonder that her father adored him.
Chavo glanced around and then turned his attention back to Xandra. Seeing that her father was nowhere to be found, he reached out and wrapped his rough hand into her long brunette locks and tugged her towards the direction of her room. “No…” she whined. Chavo didn’t seem to care. He pulled her into her room and closed the door and locked it. He was forceful, hateful, and wanting nothing more than to hurt her. He shoved her to her bed. He was going to do the exact thing that her father told everyone shouldn’t happen. Her safe place was about to be destroyed. There was nothing gentle, friendly or good about what he did to her. She just laid there. There was no fight in her anymore. She was defeated. Once the man was done, he walked out of her room. Leaving her on her own bed, bleeding from where he had gotten too rough with her. On the way out of her room, she heard her father ask why Chavo was in her bedroom. He grinned, she couldn’t see it but she could hear it in his voice and told her father that she had invited him into her room. Her father sounded pleased as he talked with Chavo.
Months later:
After numerous mornings of being sick, she finally got the nerve up to go and get a pregnancy test. It took awhile to figure out how to sneak something like that in so her father wouldn’t find out. Since the night that Chavo had raped her in her own bed, her father had not had her work with any other clients. She was just Chavo. Xandra had heard her father talked about giving her to Chavo to marry. She assumed that was why she hadn’t had to be with any other man. She was spoken for, she would soon be Chavo’s. Xandra made quick work of taking the pregnancy test in her bathroom attached to her room. Now she had to wait. She prayed in that moment that she wasn’t pregnant and that she was just sick. How could she bring a child into the world like her own mother had? Tears burned her eyes at the thought of her mother. Her mother was back in New York. She had given up on getting her daughter out of this hell. Raphael had made her an offer and she took it.
She picked up the pregnancy test and glanced down at the positive symbol. “No…..” this couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. The bathroom door opened in a flash, the door slamming against the wall. Chavo stood in front of her and grinned. He looked like he normally did when he was about to have his way with her. That’s when his eyes locked on the test in her hands. He snatched it from her and snarled when he saw that it was positive. Chavo lashed out before she could even move. His fist connecting multiple times to her abdomen. Pain. That’s all she could feel. Once he was pleased with his work, he left her to fall to the floor of the bathroom. Blood pouring down her legs. “Lo siento bebecito” she said out loud as she cried.
It’s four in the afternoon, and the cold is settling in for the evening. It stretches out in shadows behind grandiose buildings and takes up residence in the bones of those heading home for the evening. It smokes from chimneys like an old man from a pipe.
Misha has long since finished today’s errand. The medicines (stolen) are pocketed awkwardly behind his too-large coat (also stolen), but he’s in no rush to ease his discomfort. He walks the streets of St. Petersburg with his head down and his hands in his pockets. Anything to avoid going back to the apartment for five, thirty minutes. He tries to protract his time, stretch it out by slowing down his pace infinitesimally as he rounds another bend, but knows he must eventually always make his way back. It’s a sad loop, but options are otherwise scarce. That, or nothing. This, or death.
He is doing a very good job, he thinks, of minding his own business, but there’s a girl leaning against a brick wall up ahead, and she won’t stop staring. He can feel the weight of her eyes on him. Her hands are tucked into her armpits to keep them warm and she’s shifting from foot to foot. She tilts her head as he walks nearer toward her on the sidewalk. It’s a perfectly curious gesture, somewhat reminiscent of the crows that crowd around the Catherine the Great statue in the park with their glossy black eyes, and her breath comes out in a slow stream as she asks, “What are you doing?”
Misha keeps his eyes forward and attempts to walk by her, feigning deafness, but she steps in front of him. “What’s in your jacket?”
His eyes meet hers, but his mouth doesn’t move except for a thin grin. He goes to move around her, but she’s surprisingly quick and in front of him again, hands still crossed in an X in front of her and tucked away from the chill.
“Where’d you get that bruise?” and she nods toward him. He absentmindedly reaches up and touches it; he forgot it was there.
“Are you gonn—“
“Please get out of my way,” he says, as politely as he has ever had occasion to be.
“What will happen if I don’t?” The question isn’t malicious, her face still holding that inquisitive look, trying to piece him together or pull him apart, neither of which are favorable.
He shrugs. “I’ll make you.”
She seems satisfied by this response, smiles and steps to the side of him, taking up her prior position against the wall. He stays still. “Are you going home now?” is her next question, and why should he have expected anything but further prying? Misha sighs with resolution. There will be no escape until he answers at least one of her many questions, and this seems the safest of them all, so he opens his mouth and—
Thinks about the word. The apartment is a place to sleep and hide, and Anya is a part of it—his mother, but only by biology and business. But it has never been home. It has never been full of all of those things homes are said to be filled with: warmth, release, unfurling; contentment and private things, crashing and falling in containment. Events happen there, but nothing worth remembering. Sounds are limited to stilted conversation and soft, human noises. He wouldn’t be upset if anything were to happen to it. If it were to catch on fire and burn to the ground, if it became nothing but ashes underfoot, he wouldn’t find it in him to feel anything at all. He wouldn’t even pause to glance.
