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Description
"There is something to be said for discretion. It is the better part of valor, after all. It is the only way in which great laid plans achieve their fruition. It is the only way a secret between two can be kept exactly that, secret. Once that sacred trust is broken, that secret is no longer one, and without discretion, who knows what may come to pass? Certainly not the one who first shared the secret. Doubtfully the one who was indiscreet, who shared what was not theirs to share. What was secret once can only be once again through great sacrifice. You have to understand my position now, don't you?" Tina gulped, the man who had abducted her and her mother walking back and forth in front of them, slowly picking grit out from under his fingernails with a curved dagger. The thirteen-year-old tried to speak, but the gag in her mouth kept her from responding to his query. Her mother on the other hand, didn't even have the opportunity to try, regardless of the cloth gag. Just moments before he had driven a second dagger into the woman's heart, just as Tina had stirred from her drugged haze. Its blade was still there, blood coagulating around it and on her mother's red blouse. For some reason she thought that it would almost hide the blood, but as it dried it turned the color of rusty mud. She squirmed, trying to speak, to plea for mercy, to curse him, to beg for an answer, to say something, but the man merely shushed her and looked at his watch, whistling lightly as he walked out of the room.

The moment he had left the room, Tina concentrated, pulling at the ropes binding her hands, biting onto the cloth gagging her and slowly chewing, desperate, trying to push it out, but failing that trying not to choke on the small fibers that came off as she swallowed them. The ropes chaffed her skin, first uncomfortable, then the friction burning her skin worse than when she had touched a pot of boiling water when she was younger. She started bleeding and her nostrils flared, eyes welling up and overflowing with tears even as she tried to clench them shut, to keep them trapped up inside her. She had no idea how long it would be until he returned, but she had to act quickly if she wanted to survive. Her mother had warned her about men like him, but she always thought she was being paranoid, lost in the old ways when her people were persecuted and hunted down. Now they fantasized about her people, wrote books, scripted movies and television shows. Everyone wanted a taste of the old country, the flavor of history and culture. She had rolled her eyes at any sign of it amongst the outsiders as she lived amongst them, wishing she were normal. Wishing her mother wasn't around all the time to keep reminding her to keep true to her roots. Wish granted.

It took six hours of chewing before finally Tina had the gag broken enough to spit it out, letting it fall around her shoulders and drop to the ground as she shook in a satisfied deep gasp of air through her mouth and not her nose. She immediately quieted, fearful he might be approaching and hear that, so she waited, then resumed what she was doing. Her hands, so thick and fat, signs of hard work as her mother used to say, still hadn't gotten free from the ropes, but she had made progress. She managed to get the ropes to spread enough onto her hands that she could shift her arms. That she could rub the rope up against the chair she was tied to. The corner of one of the chair's back posts had a crack in it, not much, but more than the sanded edges of the others. Slowly she had worn down the rope enough that she could feel it giving more slack, though not enough to pull her hands free yet. She shook, growling lightly, then blushing as her first period started suddenly and without warning. She whimpered, having known what it was, of course, because her mother had talked about it and because all her friends had theirs long before her. She grit her teeth as the pain came, far more than she expected given what she was told, then howled in agony, pulling against her bindings even more. It felt like she was dying. It felt like she was giving birth. It felt like everything was changing.

Bruno walked back into the room holding the curved dagger before him, his business wrapped up and settled. He opened his mouth to explain to the girl again, hoping that for just once one of his captives would understand, would go quietly and peacefully to their end. Instead Tina barreled into him, growling and snarling, her sharp fangs snapping as her snout pushed hot air from her lungs at her captor. Her hands, formerly covered in her blood, now were covered with fur, her nails now claws. She growled again, trying to bite his head, to pop those arrogant eyes, to rip that pompous tongue out of his mouth. Bruno yelped, clubbing her with a fist, then slashed at her side with the dagger. Bleeding and already weak, Tina whimpered and growled, but shoved him down again, intent on making him pay for what he did to her mother. When sounds came from the hall beyond the door, however, she jumped off him, running on all fours and bounding through the doorway and into the hall, dodging bullets and blades as she charged through the building and dove out a window, her fur and skin gashed as she landed and ran out into the dark forest beyond. Groaning, Bruno slowly got up as one of his fellow hunters entered the room to check on him. He looked at the dead woman whose name he didn't even know, sighing and pulling out a cigarette from a coat pocket. He waved his associate away as he lit up the cigarette and took a slow puff, shaking his head.
"And they call us monsters."

Description
"There is something to be said for discretion. It is the better part of valor, after all. It is the only way in which great laid plans achieve their fruition. It is the only way a secret between two can be kept exactly that, secret. Once that sacred trust is broken, that secret is no longer one, and without discretion, who knows what may come to pass? Certainly not the one who first shared the secret. Doubtfully the one who was indiscreet, who shared what was not theirs to share. What was secret once can only be once again through great sacrifice. You have to understand my position now, don't you?" Tina gulped, the man who had abducted her and her mother walking back and forth in front of them, slowly picking grit out from under his fingernails with a curved dagger. The thirteen-year-old tried to speak, but the gag in her mouth kept her from responding to his query. Her mother on the other hand, didn't even have the opportunity to try, regardless of the cloth gag. Just moments before he had driven a second dagger into the woman's heart, just as Tina had stirred from her drugged haze. Its blade was still there, blood coagulating around it and on her mother's red blouse. For some reason she thought that it would almost hide the blood, but as it dried it turned the color of rusty mud. She squirmed, trying to speak, to plea for mercy, to curse him, to beg for an answer, to say something, but the man merely shushed her and looked at his watch, whistling lightly as he walked out of the room.

The moment he had left the room, Tina concentrated, pulling at the ropes binding her hands, biting onto the cloth gagging her and slowly chewing, desperate, trying to push it out, but failing that trying not to choke on the small fibers that came off as she swallowed them. The ropes chaffed her skin, first uncomfortable, then the friction burning her skin worse than when she had touched a pot of boiling water when she was younger. She started bleeding and her nostrils flared, eyes welling up and overflowing with tears even as she tried to clench them shut, to keep them trapped up inside her. She had no idea how long it would be until he returned, but she had to act quickly if she wanted to survive. Her mother had warned her about men like him, but she always thought she was being paranoid, lost in the old ways when her people were persecuted and hunted down. Now they fantasized about her people, wrote books, scripted movies and television shows. Everyone wanted a taste of the old country, the flavor of history and culture. She had rolled her eyes at any sign of it amongst the outsiders as she lived amongst them, wishing she were normal. Wishing her mother wasn't around all the time to keep reminding her to keep true to her roots. Wish granted.

It took six hours of chewing before finally Tina had the gag broken enough to spit it out, letting it fall around her shoulders and drop to the ground as she shook in a satisfied deep gasp of air through her mouth and not her nose. She immediately quieted, fearful he might be approaching and hear that, so she waited, then resumed what she was doing. Her hands, so thick and fat, signs of hard work as her mother used to say, still hadn't gotten free from the ropes, but she had made progress. She managed to get the ropes to spread enough onto her hands that she could shift her arms. That she could rub the rope up against the chair she was tied to. The corner of one of the chair's back posts had a crack in it, not much, but more than the sanded edges of the others. Slowly she had worn down the rope enough that she could feel it giving more slack, though not enough to pull her hands free yet. She shook, growling lightly, then blushing as her first period started suddenly and without warning. She whimpered, having known what it was, of course, because her mother had talked about it and because all her friends had theirs long before her. She grit her teeth as the pain came, far more than she expected given what she was told, then howled in agony, pulling against her bindings even more. It felt like she was dying. It felt like she was giving birth. It felt like everything was changing.

Bruno walked back into the room holding the curved dagger before him, his business wrapped up and settled. He opened his mouth to explain to the girl again, hoping that for just once one of his captives would understand, would go quietly and peacefully to their end. Instead Tina barreled into him, growling and snarling, her sharp fangs snapping as her snout pushed hot air from her lungs at her captor. Her hands, formerly covered in her blood, now were covered with fur, her nails now claws. She growled again, trying to bite his head, to pop those arrogant eyes, to rip that pompous tongue out of his mouth. Bruno yelped, clubbing her with a fist, then slashed at her side with the dagger. Bleeding and already weak, Tina whimpered and growled, but shoved him down again, intent on making him pay for what he did to her mother. When sounds came from the hall beyond the door, however, she jumped off him, running on all fours and bounding through the doorway and into the hall, dodging bullets and blades as she charged through the building and dove out a window, her fur and skin gashed as she landed and ran out into the dark forest beyond. Groaning, Bruno slowly got up as one of his fellow hunters entered the room to check on him. He looked at the dead woman whose name he didn't even know, sighing and pulling out a cigarette from a coat pocket. He waved his associate away as he lit up the cigarette and took a slow puff, shaking his head.
"And they call us monsters."