3V3'S 3D3N (EVE'S EDEN)

Trigger Warning! Proceed with caution and, at your own risk!

Contains:

- Sexual Violence

-Disturbing Imagery

-Abuse

-Mental health

-Substance Abuse

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Shivering. Dirt and muck covering her face, little cuts and bruises marring an olive skin, chapped lips and frayed hair yet there was still something distinctively breath taking about her. Soft features, appearing to be in her mid-20s, and almost a short but slender build. Too slender, as if she hadn’t been fed in days. The most striking part of her, however, were her eyes. Pools of blue, almost unnaturally so, saturated to almost artificial extremes, ones that 3 seemed to recognise.

“What’s a little thing like you doin’ here? What’s your name?” 3 says, bending slightly to meet her eyes, a rather tall herculean women, birch wood skin covered in military gear, covering scars and tattoos that painted and marred her skin. Her face, sharp features and all took in hers, an odd sense of familiarity settling in. 3’s face was a calculated smile, just as polite as she needed to be.

Just before the women could reply, Stan interrupted, a bear of a man, crossed armed, “we gotta move.”

3’s face shifted, scowl on her face, eyes sharpening and drilling into the man, jaw locking into a solid frame, turning to look at the man, shouting, “can’t you see she’s trying to speak sergeant?!” squaring up to him she gave a hard glare, “if it weren’t for the captain, you would be in a grave,” her voice dropped to a lethal depth, “if you were lucky.”

Just as quicky she turned back to the woman, that same smile back, “you were saying?”

“Eve,” she replied, shaky, her eyes scanning the room, cowering back a little under the scrutiny of 3.

“And that’s all that we need,” the smile softened a little. Sad, she thought shame there was another one. “Have some rest, Sen will show you the way.”

Just a small nod came from Eve, cerulean eyes dipping under the scrutiny, but when their eyes finally met, there was almost a sort of connection, something common within both of them that seemed to transcend the surface.

“Being the only survivor to something must be hard,” the captain said, coming up to 3, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder, a light pet of his fingers before he moved forward, his large frame skimming past her. “You’ll know how to handle this.”

3’s face darkens a little. A small yessir was all she said.

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Night fell and 3 went out for a smoke break, a small part of her usually unpredictable routine, something that gave her a sense of control, a sense of regularity that was so rare in her line of work. Surprisingly, the blue-eyed wonder had showed up at her local spot, staring off.

“You ok?” 3 asks, flicking the lighter before a soft flame emerged.

“Ah yes,” she replies, eyes meeting once again, a tug at her heart that made her cower instinctively. She wished she had even the ounce of strength behind the gaze of the woman before her, unwavering even in the midst of the strongest, behemoth of a man. She was always used to cowering, lowering her gaze slightly as a mere gesture, her sight still set on whatever was before her, the nearest threat. This time however, she didn’t feel threatened, gruff voice, scared skin taut over bulging muscle and all, seemed like no foe, only a harsh reminder of the sins she committed, of the scars she held, guilt and melancholy eating away at her soul, mind drifting to her only solace.

“Want a drag?” 3 asks, a cloud of grey dissipating as she offered the cigarette, Eve politely shaking her head.

Such an otherworldly sight she was, trapped within the confines of whatever she had gone through, the pain of it all in the back of her mind controlling every move in the form of a reflex, a trait 3 didn’t ignore. She couldn’t. It seemed all too familiar.

She took another drag, slow and lazy. She had noticed that rarely anything incredibly bad happened to her when she was smoking, the smoke almost acting as a shield around her, keeping her in a bubble of translucent bliss. Nothing can go wrong if you don’t particularly notice it, though this fact, she purposefully ignored. Ignorance was bliss after all.

“How long are we here till?” Eve asks, leaning on the pole, watching the clouds move across the sky, as if they had not a care, almost wishing she was one with the stars, dictating the fates, instead of being their victim.

“2 more days,” another long drag, another sigh of an exhale, exhaustion in every move. “And then we’ll be on our way to the city.”

Silence engulfed the two again, though not an uncomfortable one. It was one of caution but comfort, neither wanting to say more than they needed, a soft reminder of the true circumstances that led them here.

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Next morning, however, after breakfast, the bleak long lasting meal doing nothing in the form of true sustenance, each soldier was handed their tasks and soon got busy in them. 3, was tasked with preparing a statement and incident report from Eve, to gather whatever information they could about this elusive gang that terrorized the international illegal market for years, only making a rare blunder in the reveal of a merchandise location. 3 however, was a little sceptical, her captain agreed but at the end of the day, they had no say if the higher ups asked them to do something. Mere puppets, lapdogs. It was a part of the job 3 hated, not that she had much of a choice.

“So, how many of there were you?” she asks, getting straight to the point. The faster it was done the less you dwelled on it she believed. That’s what helped her anyway.

“At least 15,” a soft reply, Eve fidgeted. She hated this. Hated remembering all the faces that were lost. All of them were stuck in the same hell as her but for some reason, God had chosen her as the survivor, the one to continue, despite all her wishes. There were so many others who deserved it more than her, smarter, brighter, younger, less burdened than her, those with bigger dreams and wishes. Each face flashed before her, some young, some a little older, some dark skinned some light, all under one roof for the same reason.

“You remember how long,” who these girls were unfortunately, didn’t matter to others, each legacy lost to the souls and bodies littering the cramped building with the bare minimum some heathens considered living facilities. A sour taste filled 3’s throat, her usual fake smile not betraying the feeling. She had grown accustomed to not asking those questions. Much to her dismay, they always seemed to just waste time. No one had the time to chisel names into gravestone or write a eulogy, hell most of them had no name, no identity. There was to be no ceremony, no person they ever knew could or would attend. All they had was each other and even then, they were all broken and hurt, most likely husks, their potential and dreams dying with every passing day. She however hoped this wasn’t the case.

“A couple weeks,” Eve replied, however with all honesty, she couldn’t recall, unable to distinguish morning from night, day from week. After some time, it all blurred together, the same thing repeating like some sick cycle.

A sigh left 3, knowing the next few questions were always the hardest. “What happened, and is there anything you know, that can help us out?”

A shaky breath left Eve. Her hand wrapping around the wrists, rubbing along the scars there. “They would use us. Some as production, others as materials. Almost all of us were merchandise.” Bile rose up her throat, acid biting into the flesh there, a common feeling that she simply gulped down. Jack and Jill, she rehearsed mentally, the rhyme she grew up with and passed onto her children, a calming mantra that always seemed to bring her back to the times where life was much more simple, less painful.

Memories flashed, and a blank stare crossed Eve. The way they held her down, barely clothed. They found it more erotic ripping away at the few scraps she was given. Usually there was more than one to keep her from using her hands to stop them, her voice screaming, begging for mercy, for any help only to hear a laugh. Sometimes they’d slap her, or simply drug her. They’d cover her mouth or force her to scream, especially after she gave up, often times relishing in her struggles, taking joy in either bringing her to submission, or dominating her in defiance. Sometimes, they’d tell her to pretend. “You want this right?” they’d ask, and she’d be told to beg and plead, to smile and entice. She would force herself to act as if she was in ecstasy, enjoying the pain of the man using her like some toy, until he was done, passing her on to someone else. Sometimes it was one, other times it was many.

She had debts to pay, however. A no meant loss, defiance meant punishment, rebellion meant torture. She couldn’t afford any of that, so she did what she cold.

Went up the hill, she continued, mentally reciting. “They would sometimes shift us location to location. Wherever they needed us, they’d take us there,” to fetch a pale of water.

“Do you remember any location? Do you think it’s still working?” 3 asks, every answer further paining her, the familiarity hurting her with every syllable.

Jack fell down and broke his crown, “most likely. Unless the location is raided, they keep it going. There is one, not far from here I believe. An hour or so in a truck.”

3 sighs, a hand rubbing her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You need to stop,” she says, voice stern before getting up to go outside.

And Jill came tumbling after. “Stop what?” Eve’s voice shook more than she expected, noticing something off about the way 3 trudged back in, her face distorted under the light.

“Stop reciting whatever those fuckers gave to you,” 3 looked her in the eyes, voice softening a smidge, “there’s a blocker for 7-meter radius. They can’t see or hear us.”

A knowing look shadowed over 3 and Eve gasped, a small little sharp intake of breath, almost unnoticeable. Almost.

“Those eyes,” 3 begins, “sometimes they shock you a little, don’t they?”

Eve is just silent, taking in the information that someone knows.

“Those bastards will use whatever they give,” 3 says, and for the first time, Eve truly meets her gaze, holding back tears. Tears are dangerous. “Here’s the deal. You give us the information we need. Really this time, and we’ll give you what you want. You want to be safe, don’t you? We can make that happen, but only if you cooperate.”

Eve deliberated this. On one hand, she could ask for freedom and finally the life she had always wished. Quiet and suburban with her two boys, barely above the age of 3 and 5, both results of torture and hell, both the only pieces of heaven and paradise she had ever seen. On the other, if they got to her, it would be over for both, especially the boys.

“We can ensure your safety,” 3 says, sensing unrest.

“How sure?” Eve asks, knowing the truth but still wanting to hear the optimistic reassurance.

“As long as you’re near military, nothing will hurt you.”

A grim chuckle escapes Eve. Her trust in that was long gone. She had far too much to loose, and they’d always hunt her. They’d always eventually find her, and once they did, they wouldn’t spare the children for being boys. They’d use them as leverage. Right now, they were safe in some orphanage that she had hoped to find one day, to finally lead a normal life with a normal family.

“I can’t stay on military bases forever and have bodyguards on me all the time,” Eve says, narrowing her options, her actions no longer timid and fearful. Now they were, cold, her heart kept aside, a boulder of an organ she desperately tried to roll from her chest in moments like these. “I’m what’s useful to them not the boys. They shouldn’t suffer because of me, because I chose to live with them.” She recalled the smiles of her two boys, the last ones she could remember when they were mere babies. Now, that’s the only memory she’d pass with.

That boulder began to roll. Only one of them could come out unharmed, her or her children.

With a heavy heart, she looked down at the ruins of her body. It was no longer of much use anyway. Shaking yet firm she began, “I want you to sell me,” her voice dropped along with her head as she cam to terms with the words that came out of her, “dead this time. Whatever you get, they go to my sons. Whatever you need are in the eyes.”

A softness overcame 3, a familiar pain settling in, the pain of no control, no choice. A pain she could sympathize with. “You are… stronger than you know.”

Silence engulfed the room as 3 went to call the captain, taking the last few answers, honest ones this time before getting approval.

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3 stood at a simple gravestone one merely symbolic, a small picture of two young boys leaning against the marble, the two smiling, one missing his front teeth. Smoke escaped the confines of her lips as they once again created that shield of peace, mumbling, “thank you,” before finally snuffing the burnt cigarette out under her boot.

Two electric spheres sat on a neat white desk, a stark difference to the place where they most likely had originated.

Wherever her soul lied, hopefully it found peace knowing that the reason she made such a sacrifice, was worth everything she had lost.