Anna

by Sammy H. K. Smith

  Stephen received his papers first and that’s when it all became real. My life and soul ebbed away. I begged him to run away with me, hide somewhere the soldiers wouldn’t find us. He’d finally agreed, but the day we planned to leave soldiers arrived and took him. We had been betrayed, and the only person who knew of our plans was my brother. Blood is thicker than water – that was the saying wasn’t it? I never saw him again. I refused to speak to him or my parents, because they agreed with my brother’s actions. Traitor, they call me: and I call them that too.

  I never received confirmation of Stephen’s death. He had been attached to the Maritime Regiment and when the war hit our borders all military bases were attacked first, followed by the power stations and water plants. I know he was in at the base that first day, but I never heard from him again. Two years after that I traded my ring for food, the pale skin the only reminder of our vows.

  There was no point in working. With no communication networks, no power and no water, who needed me? I spent the next months trying to find some normality between the constant falling bombs. Some people thought it was the Middle East who attacked us, others thought it was the Russians, but no one was sure and we weren’t exactly a nation of innocent bystanders. It didn’t matter.

  In the end it wasn’t the attacks from outside which mattered most, but our own. Those of us who were left, scattered; the loose morality that we held as a nation dissolved further with each fresh attack.

  I eventually left Oscar. There was nothing left for me at my home. I tried to take him with me but I couldn’t. He scarpered during a heavy bombardment and I never saw him again. That was the day I started to count; nine hundred and twenty-three days of freedom, I think, and yet this was only day eleven of my capture.

  Eleven, had it been so few?

  I stopped then, the stinging and heat from my now bleeding wrist was consuming me. Each time the metal made contact with the wound I jumped as though electrocuted. Pointless and futile. I cried angry tears.

  When I woke on the morning of the twelfth day, I was alone. My back now merely itched and throbbed. I still hadn’t seen the brand nor touched it. It was there and that was enough. It was my wrist that hurt mostly, a constant band of pain. I stood and looked down at the floor as the door clicked.

  “I’ve brought you food.”

  It wasn’t my usual mealtime. Why had the routine changed? I kept my gaze down as he approached, but he lifted up my chin and I found myself looking into his eyes. I know your name, I win. He frowned and touched my lip and eye, making me wince.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He wanted to be forgiven but I wasn’t going to be the one to absolve him of his sins and, instead, I remained silent. He sighed and kissed my cheek softly, lingering with his lips against my skin until I started to shake. Another tick for him. He won: again.

  He locked the door and removed my chain. I allowed him to guide me to a chair where I sat with head bowed. As I ran my hand over the sore skin of my wrist a thousand thoughts skittered across my mind. I could try again, try to overpower him and steal the key. I knew this town and thought I knew where to run and where to hide. I almost did. Almost. I was Anna, I was weak; Anna didn’t have the strength to try.

  He dragged his chair opposite me and opened a can. Peaches today. I hated peaches. He scooped each slice out and placed it in my mouth. I chewed mechanically and swallowed, all the time staring at the can in his hand. The sharp edges glinted at me. He paused with his sticky fingers on my lips and I glanced at him. He locked his gaze with mine he continued to feed me until the can was empty.

  “Why do you fight me?”

  I licked my sore lip and continued to rub my wrists. He grabbed my hands in his and, jumping to my feet, I tried to pull them back but he squeezed tighter until I cried out. Gracious, be Anna, be gracious. I stopped and he started to rub my skin as I had done.

  “I don’t want to be here,” I answered.

  “But you are here, Anna.” He ran his fingers around mine and entwined our hands, just like my picture. The sickness rose and the taste of the peaches burnt in the back of my throat. “I’ll protect you.”

  “I’ve felt your protection, I’ll pass, thanks.” Why the sarcasm? Where had that come from? Remember who you are. Anna.

  “You won’t always be so angry with me, Anna.” He sounded so sure that I began to doubt my own conviction. Chip, chip, chip away. I will always hate you, Daniel.

  He reached down to his belt and pulled out the cuffs. I tried to snatch my wrist away but he squeezed again, and stared at the mixture of flaking dry blood and fresh drops. Swapping wrists, he clicked the metal in place and stood up, holding the other cuff in his hand. I decided then that I preferred the chain.

  “It’s not safe right now.”

  He tightened the cuff to his own wrist and touched my face again, running a finger around my bruised eye. I didn’t flinch or resist and hoped the lack of emotion would make him waver, make him stop or even, at least, get angry; instead he pulled me closer and ran his hands under my top, touching my brand. It burnt – not the brand, but his touch, it itched and burnt like acid on my skin. He ran his hand along my ribcage and I cringed as his fingers stopped at the underside of my bra, fingering the hole in the material.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t know?” He sounded amused again and I screwed my hands into fists. I couldn’t hit him when cuffed, I would have to work out my rage another way and the stinging in my palms helped. He undid my bra and gently removed it, bending my arm and hooking it over my elbow and through my tee-shirt, his touch skimmed my breasts; it was deliberate, and I refused to react. Stuffing it into his bag he shot me a smile and grabbed me, kissing me hard on the lips. It was vile, but I stood there and took it. Gracious and subservient. I could taste him, even though his kiss was strangely chaste: but I could feel his excitement and that’s when I resisted and pulled back.

  “Many of the others wouldn’t have waited, Anna. I’m a patient man.”

  Letting me go, he walked me to the door. As he shifted the backpack his jacket rode up and there was my chance to escape. His gun.

  Walking down the stairs I stumbled and tried to reach to his side and grab the gun, but he pushed me against the wall and stepped back, we were the same height now. With my cuffed arm across my chest he started twisting my free hand, the ligaments protested with a click.

  “No games.” Low and calm. I stilled, but the moment he relaxed I tried again and this time he placed his arm across my throat and pushed. “No.” A touch of anger flashed in his eyes and with one sharp push he cut my air supply. My legs slid again and with a sweep of his arm he carried me out of the library to the streets.

  We were alone. He stood me up and cupped the side of my face. “Don’t fuck around, Anna. Now’s not the time for games.”

  There was something about his warning that I heeded. I took his outstretched hand without resistance. I needed strength and if holding his hand gave it to me, I’d take it. He pulled me towards the outskirts of a small housing complex.

  “Where are we going?”

  He looked at me in surprise, then smiled and traced my lip again. “You’re talking to me now.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “We’re waiting for them.”

  Looking to where he indicated, three figures approached: one turned to my captor and smiled. It was a genuine look of familiarity – even friendship – of a kind I hadn’t seen in a long time. He removed his sunglasses and glanced at me, rapaciously: why did all these men have such cold and cruel eyes?

  “It’s been a long time, Will.”

  Will? I looked at my captor in confusion, but he grinned at his companion and nodded. No, that wasn’t right. He was Daniel. I let go of his hand and he glanced at me, his grin becoming a gentle smile. No, he was Daniel, he had to be Daniel. I had to have something over him.

  “She’s not bad.” He spoke again and I stared at the speaker, the man with the sunglasses. He looked me up and do
wn.

  “Where did you get her?” He spoke as though I wasn’t there, or I as though I was incapable of speaking, or hearing. I locked my gaze with his.

  “Unlands.”

  “Easy?”

  “Relatively. Satisfied?” Daniel-Will, whoever he was, pointed to the box and the other man nodded, handing it to one of the others.

  “Not trained her yet?” He glanced at my eye and lip. “Problems? I could tame her for you, she won’t give you any trouble when I’m done.”

  He wouldn’t, would he? He looked the type to take pleasure in cruelty. My captor narrowed his eyes and shook his head. The atmosphere changed, I could feel him tense, his anger was rising and my throat contracted in anticipation.

  “Not necessary.”

  “She been branded yet?”

  The man to his right moved slightly, his arms crossed but one hand touching the knife at his side. My captor turned me around and lifted my top, I shivered as the cold air stung my skin. He waited a few seconds and then turned me back around.

  “Is that everything?” There was a dangerous undertone to his voice now and he kept his stare on the middle man. They were matched in height and build but my captor had a gun. I was glad.

  “For now.” He handed over a small scrap of paper. “Anything you can get from that list, send me word on the network.”

  The trio turned and walked away, Will didn’t move until they were out of sight.

  “They’ll be back for you,” he finally said, glancing down at me.

  “I know.” I had seen the looks on their faces, I wasn’t stupid. I’d spent over two years running from men with that look and avoiding the towns and communities. The first time I had been accosted by a man in the Unlands he had offered me food for my body and thought it a good trade. That was day twenty-two, when I had still thought there could be a semblance of normality in this place called home. When I refused, he had tried to take me anyway. I was stronger then, I fought him off and ran, but I remembered the touch of him on my skin and shivered.

  “Are you cold?”

  I shook my head and stood patiently as he rifled through his rucksack. A flash of black – he had brought the designer bag with him. I wondered what else he carried, would there be something in there to aid my escape? Pulling out a lightweight jacket he helped my right arm into it and then swapped the cuffs over – careful not to aggravate my grazes – and then put my left arm in, zipping it up slowly. It matched his. Of course it did.

  “Your name is Will.” I made it a statement.

  “It is.”

  Will, I knew the meaning of his name and it wasn’t right, not for him, but I kept quiet. I was Anna.

  Neither of us spoke for several minutes, until finally:

  “I’ve got some business to do on the other side of town. I want you to accompany me.” It was a statement, yet something in his voice made me wonder if there was something more to come.

  “How did you survive on your own, Anna?”

  Our game was over, that much was clear. No longer could I answer a question and expect to be rewarded like a pet. If I gave in, gave everything, then I would lose forever, but I had to speak to him, I was tied to him out here and I relied on him to keep me safe. Finally admitting it to myself I screamed inside.

  “I learnt not to talk, to move quietly.” I remembered day one hundred and thirteen, the day I had decided to leave, try to move somewhere new. I avoided all the towns – anyone with sense did – and I ran as far as I could.

  By day two hundred and seven, I was back.

  The memories of that time were hazy. I remembered the Wanderers, the long nights I spent awake and hiding in pits in the ground and the feeling of complete and utter paralysing fear; fear like I had never experienced before. I saw my first dead woman back then; I can remember her face clearly. No one forgets an image like that. Her lifeless, naked body barely hidden by the scrublands, angry purple bruising to her throat and arms. I cried for three days: but not for her, I cried for me. I was selfish.

  I told myself that my home was safe, but I knew it wasn’t, knew it was in the town and therefore dangerous, but it was somewhere and something I could cling to. I could walk around the countryside of home and know where to hide and where to run.

  So I’d gone back. I never attempted to return to my home, but I knew the area and as a creature of habit, it helped calm me.

  “Do you have a family?” I wasn’t going to allow him to be the only one to ask questions, for every question he asked me; I would now ask him one. I had to push back. He led me through the streets, avoiding the scatterings of people and Enforcers.

  “No.”

  Just one word, abrupt and final.

  “What did you do before–”

  He grunted and pushed me to the ground, landing on top of me. It was my capture all over again, him straddling me, our wrists joined by the cuff and the smell of, damn, what was it? I was breathing heavily and sharp bolts of pain ran up and down my spine. He kissed me again, forcing his lips on mine and crushing them, making my bruised lip ache. Gracious, be Anna. My conscience warned me not to react, and I almost didn’t. But I thought about the gun and I pushed through my repulsion and closed my eyes, I knew what I needed to do. I kissed him back. I could barely breathe with the weight of him on top of me and I was glad: because if I could breathe properly I would have vomited. Instead, the short, quick gasps of air I stole helped me maintain my composure. It was disgusting; at that moment I hated myself more than I did him, but yet, I didn’t stop. The gun. He pinned both of my arms down to the hard ground. Nettles rubbed into my right wrist, taunting me with pain. I kept my eyes closed, and like a child I thought: if I can’t see him, it’s not real.

  His kiss deepened, and that’s when I started to cry. I could imagine it wasn’t real all I wanted, but the smell, taste, touch and sense of him pointed otherwise. If I opened my eyes, then the illusion of a nightmare would be shattered. I couldn’t do that. I had given in again; I shed more tears for the monster.

  He finally broke away and I burst into fresh sobs, I didn’t care that he was there, I was weak. His face was directly above mine and I turned my head to the side, eyes still closed, snot started to form and roll down my face. I just wanted this to be over. He kissed my neck, breathing in my scent. I continued to cry and slowly tried to move my right hand from his hold, but it was pointless. All pointless. He pushed down with all his weight as he moved his viperous touch across the top of my chest. I couldn’t breathe and started to cough and desperately tried to gasp for air: I needed that gun, I needed it, otherwise this was all for nothing.

  I choked on my tears and sobs and he hauled me to my feet. I’d missed my opportunity; I had given in and kissed him for nothing. I was useless, I was his Anna. He drew me into an embrace; I was too preoccupied to stop him. Huge, he was so huge, how did I ever think I might have gotten free from him? I couldn’t move, my right arm trapped at my side and my left still joined to him. I could almost touch the gun, my fingers stroked the metal once but I didn’t have the strength to reach forward and grab it. I was drained and empty. He murmured into my ear, trying to hush me like I was a child. I did quieten down, not through his attempts at consolation, but through sheer exhaustion – although I was sure he believed it was his words that worked. He kept me against him for a long time. My face was tacky, my skin covered in sweat and all I could smell was him. Where was my courage and my fight? When I had known I couldn’t get the gun, why did I not fight?

  “Anna, my Anna.” He drew back and kissed my cheek; he must have tasted my tears. How could he not? “I’ll protect you.”

  Chapter Four

  He took me to a small store buried deep in the centre of the worst bombed sites. As he rifled through the cupboards for supplies he would often stop to stroke me, like a fucking pet. No, he was a parasite sucking life and hope from me each time we touched.

  The owner sat at the desk reading, not paying us any attention. Curiosity burned at th
e strangeness of this all. Since civilisation fell apart, manners and goodwill and honesty were scarce. This shop-keeper must know or trust Will. Or was scared of him.

  “I need something.” I put off asking him for as long as I could, but my lower stomach stabbed and churned with the familiar dull pain. I didn’t want to have to tell him, ever. I had hoped I would be free before this happened. The shame at having to tell my captor made me blush furiously. “I need… toiletries.” He had thrown my supply away with my rucksack.

  “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Anna.” He replied, kissing me on the cheek. The hot and angry tears rose. Not again! Weak, so weak. He searched the cupboards pulled out a small cardboard tampon box, shaking it with confidence as he led us to the desk and bartered payment terms.

  “I need privacy.” I clenched my hand around the box and looked out of the back of the store into the long and overgrown space. It was a mix of browns and yellows, and looked sick, like diseased skin, spreading as far as I could see. A fresh surge of pain cut through my stomach and I grimaced. “Please,” I added finally. I would beg and pander to his ego if he wanted.

  He guided me through the rubble to the coal store next to what once was a kitchen, finally releasing my hand and checking the store first – of course he did, ensuring there was nothing there with which I could hurt him or myself. Once satisfied, he removed the cuff from my wrist, gestured me to go inside, and closed the door, shutting out the sky and leaving me in the silence of the unlit room. I dealt with my problem quickly, and then sat on an upturned wine box with my head in my hands.

  It was blissfully dark and quiet, and I was alone; alone to be myself without the shackles of Anna weighing me down. I feared that if I dwelled on my situation for too long I would float away and never be able to recapture me. I would be forever lost to pathetic Anna. I couldn’t let him do that to me. Running my hands through my short hair the rage built again. Uncontrollable and unsustainable. I dug my nails into my palms; it took the edge off and I was able to think clearly. I could, no, would, get free.