The Natures Of Pain

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

*Trigger: Contains Grpahic and Sexual Material.
About a girl who goes crazy after years of sex slavery, starting from birth.

Place yourself in the role of the overseer, helpless observer. Watching of man kind for years and years, unable to to intervene. During this watch session, watch the metal break of a child held in sexual slavery from her birth and the circumstances that lead her there.

Chapter 10 (v.1) - Tainted Snow

Submitted: May 16, 2016

Reads: 209

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 16, 2016




“Order! Order in the court!”

 “Your honor, this child-”

“Monster!Killer! MONSTER! Demon!”


“Murderer! Killer! Demon! Hear-”



“I said order in the court!”

“Your Honor! Clearly this child is not in a healthy mental state-”

“Bloody stream, bloody stream, Bloody stream-”






“Hush child!!

“Uhhem! The defense of the crime presented is being defended as acts committed in self-defense and that the defendant themself is insane due to circumstances. The court has considered the nature and circumstances of the offenses presented. I as judge, have considered the aggravating factors found by the jury. I have identified aggravating and mitigating factors and considered those factors as arriving at a sentence. The crime committed was especially cruel as it was committed with multiple deadly weapons resulting in the deaths of four people The court-”

“Die! DIE! Every one dies HAHA-”

“Mr. Lawrence, I won’t warn you again, silence your client down or we skip the rest of this herring!

“Quiet you!”

 “The court has also considered as an aggravating factor the emotional and physical harm done to the victims’ family and the defendant themselves. As mitigation the court finds the circumstance surrounding the crime to be cruel and uncivil. That the defendant had no emotional, physical, or social support. And that the defendant has no prior criminal history.”

“Tainted snow, Tainted Snow, TAINTED SNOW!!-”



“The court finds that the mitigation presented is not sufficiently substantial to call for leniency and that a natural life sentence is appropriate. It is ordered that the defendant be incarcerated in the Napanomal State Hospital for the criminally insane, no possibility of parole.”


“The Court is dismissed. Officers if you see to the defendant please.”


“Thank you your honor.”


“You’re coming with us. COME ON! Move it!”


“Monster!Killer! MONSTER! Demon! You deserved to die!!”

“Row, Row, Row your boat~”


“Down a bloody~stream~”



“Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily”


“Everyone will die!!~ HAHAHAHA”

 “Go through the door!”





I am an overseer. My job is simple, to oversee humanity. I don't know how I came to be or where I came from. I sit above the earth in my own white soft spherical realm, looking down the beautiful blue sphere, unable to touch it.  Some people may call me a god or a goddess, but I am no god, I lack the truth of my existence. I am without knowledge, I am simply out there, surrounded by the bright glowing lights, big and small, near and far, there waiting for something to happen. Are others like me out there? Those who may call themselves my kin in their own spheres, looking over earth as I, no different in position than I? I do not know.

 I can only keep that thought in the back of my mind, in depths where no one may travel as I watch over the humans. That is all I can do, only look over the humans, unable to connect to them. No matter my shouts, tears, or motions, the feeble beings in the blue sphere beneath mine will never hear my shouts of glee or pain, feel the warmth or cold of my tears, or know of the gentle caresses or spiteful slaps I give. Only this place where I reside in, this indestructible cage, gets the pleasure of receiving the feelings and touches I wish to give to the ones I oversee.

 Day by day as I endlessly claw at the toughened fabric of my cage, I watch the humans with their strife unable to communicate, unable to intervene. I pled out to the bright orbs in the sky in hope and tears, if there are others who call me their kin, if there is truly a God who created me, then may they hear me at least once and granted me what I desire most, to help the Humans.  But despite the pleas I have given for the millennia, despite the efforts I have given, I have not been able to escape this sphere, been able to do anything. I know it’s because I do not have the power to do anything, for whatever reason I have only one job, to overlook the weak creatures of Earth, nothing else.

It is a horrid task, a hateful task. It carries on endless, as I have seen man evolve from stick to stone, from stone to bronze, and from bronze to machinery. There have been times I laughed, tears in eyes and a voice that bellowed louder than any seismic quake ever felt. There have been times I furied hotter than any volcano. And there have been times that even all of the azure of earth could not fill the amount my emptiness and loss of heart from the sadness I felt. As if in cycles, I feel these changes over and over again.

I blame my seasons on the very things I have been banned from touching, humans. I try not to get attached to people, look at them with objective eyes. But to no avail, they tempt me with their stories, their personalities, their shine. These frail organisms bend my will, force my heart to open to them, watch over them. Yet there is always the one that I find with every generation of mankind that attracts my eye more than the others. Be she with luscious brown hair and amethyst eyes who charms the screens of many, or he who from the ashes of a lumber mill in France becomes rich with high end fashion, launching his empire of clothing and designs.

 But there is nothing I can do.  I am only an overseer, my job is to see over the humans through times of good and pain. It is my only blessing to my existence and the torment of my existence. When death, despair, or madness, grips hold of the one I fancy each generation, I find myself riddled in self-pity and regret. That I couldn’t even lend them a hand or allow them sweet whispers of comfort.




I found that this generation is no different. The one I fancied, a young child, forced to a cruel fate.

A mother, beauty of sorts, kind and caring, silk flowing blond hair and pure green eyes. Milake Village They called her Illia and she was loved by all. Illia had moved to the when she was just a fifteen-year-old girl. The village chief had found her badly beaten and her clothing torn up, lying unconscious outside the village outskirts. The village chief took her into the village and cleaned her up and tended to her wounds. Once she was fully healed she was given the choice to stay or leave the sweet little mountain village. Illia, who had befriended the entire village with her kindness and positive attitude decided to stay and the entire village celebrated.

Years of happiness and prosperity would come to pass the village and Illia. Illia, tended to the Milake Village Orphanage, for five years before she married Rand, a handsome man with flame red hair and grass deep eyes, who was from the orphanage. Rand and Illia would enjoy their marriage life for five years before the mountains claimed his life after the announcement of her pregnancy.

 She gave birth to a baby girl blessed to have her traits only a few months after, but Death in his blacken rags and ominous scythe came to collect Illia’s due to him. Little Illia wasn’t strong enough to have the baby, but she wanted to have the baby so badly, to have a family of her own. In a dream before the third month, Death had approached her giving her the choice: Her life or the baby. Illia cried silently as she touched her womb and Death disappeared.

 I watch this very child be taken from poor sweet Illia, without even being named. The child was born healthy but did not cry, even as poor Illia breathed her last breath, sweat ridden and ragged reaching out to her child, covered in her own tears, the baby girl did not cry, not a single tear shed.  I felt drawn to the nameless child and I decided to especially oversee the child.  But what this child had in store for her, if only I'd known.  That my sanity would be crumbled like useless paper as it is today.

It was decided among the Milake Village that only suitable parents could take charge of Illia’s baby. That the ones who would become this baby’s parents and name the child would be clean shaven and properly breed: sweet, good hearted people who could afford to raise good. Until they were found, the baby was to remain nameless and raised in the orphanage. But later that night, when the darkness took it strongest hold, sweeping across the land more ominous than the devil, at a speed the would make any cheetah jealous, odious strangers I had not seen in those parts took the baby girl. She was taken to a place far from home, far from the loving orphanage and placed in a room with many other babies.  Each of these babies had been taken from their homes, hospitals and orphanages, some willingly sold off, some like this baby girl, taken forcefully and unknowingly.

This house was simple looking and the strangers called it Homebase. Homebase laid hidden far from visible eyes. Deep in a forest that no one could dare call home for it was more dangerous than the word itself.  Layered in poisonous plants, creepy crawlers, and festering with man eating creatures, the people who lived closest to the forest, ten miles from any direction, called it “No Man’s Land.”  These thieves knew no one would dare venture into No Man’s Land and placed Homebase in the dead center. Homebase was made of wood, from the trees of No Man’s Land, and had very little painting to help camouflage the simple wooden house.  There were traps and percussions set for all dangers for Homebase, whether forest or should people enter and find Homebase. The strangers who had stolen the baby were all part of a gang called the Enterpros, and Homebase belonged to them.

Enterpros is definitely a disgusting lot. More disgusting than say someone enjoying human experimentation. Viler than mixing moldy foods of all sorts, meats, breads, fruits and vegetables, then eating it in one sitting. They are heartless, scheming, and manipulative. The sole purpose of the Enterpros existence is to make money. That in itself is not bad but, they do it by human trafficking, even worse that they traffic children that they have stolen and trained for that sole purpose. Deprived of their humanity deprived of their rights.  All of children taken to Homebase would soon learn the method of slavery. Enterpros didn’t teach these children to speak; they were taught to obey.

From the time they all came to Homebase, they were kept in two separate rooms, separated by gender.  This is how they started their four phase training system. In phase one, six times a day an adult of the same sex would come in and yell and yell at the babies. Their cries enough to make any heart melt, even my own, but these Enterpros members would not be so easily affected. Their yells made even the all mighty Godzilla look meek. This would happen day, after day, until they reached their first year at Homebase. Then phase two of their training would start; obedience training. At this point the babies, now infant toddlers would be barked orders day in day out. The objective the Enterpros had was that this would become their norm and they would never refuse the orders as they aged, and unfortunately the system had not proven them wrong for almost eighty years. This phase of the training also lasted a year before then moved to phase three, assessment training. Phase three, involved two Enterpros members, one of both sexes, being assigned anywhere between one to ten infant toddlers, becoming their “trainers”, for a year to command to do various tasks. They would clean various things like glasses or rooms, get subjected to various forms of violence, like being slapped, punched, whipped or kicked, and forced to do various degrading tasks such as striping off their own clothing or bark and walk like dogs. This was all done to see where they best fit for phase four, assignment.

For phase four, three Enterpros trainers worked in a team and signed about ten children to train more in depth depending on their assignment. The way the teams worked is that they all had their “turn” or time slot with each child individuality. Once they were done with their turn, the next trainer would have their turn with that child after, followed by the third trainer. Assignment was once they were four years old, or their fourth year there, they were branded with the Enterpros emblem, an E encircled closed in a square in the middle of a seven pointed star, on their feet and placed in a category for further training before being sold off. The categories were: house slavery, release slavery, and sex slavery

House slavery was the most basic and least sought after by Enterpros customers. All they needed to do was house work like cleaning and guarding. Release slavery was the most sought after by the Enterpros customers. Their job required them to be stress or fetish relievers. It is unfortunate that these kids only last a few years after their purchase. Their masters, as the filthy beings called themselves, usually end up killing them from all the abuse and strain they place on the child. Last is the sex slavery, these kids only had one thing they had one purpose, being living sex dolls. These kids were also didn’t have very high chance of living after a few years as well. And unfortunately these children never receive a name, not even a number, the Enterpros or the ones who bought these children didn’t want them having any sense of self identity.

Illia’s baby girl was treated no differently, place though the phase process. Her vocabulary like the others, consisted of words like trash, hold, vermin, rub, disgusting, tainted, worthless, take. Her mind full of the orders such as “Take this tray!” or “Hold this and rub up and down!”

Her face, paler than white itself, and her body just slightly thicker than a sheet of paper, just enough to hide the bones beneath her skin. I watched over her as she was sentenced to sex slavery. That was the first time I had ever wished I had not been created, that I wished not to be able to see. I could feel myself be drained of the very energy that made me up, my heart felt colder than winter, and my anger hotter than the sun. But I couldn’t look away, I couldn’t go to her, I was stuck in my damned sphere, stuck in my role as an overseer.  Every passing moment, she was forced to stuff sweaty male genitalia down her throat. Covered in human procreation liquid, even threatened into drinking the disgusting discharge. Beating beaten every time she dispelled hot yellowy white goo from the discomfort or taste of the human flesh or “love fluid” she was forced to intake.  Her worst day would be her first day of phase three training.

Forced by the obligations of my role, I watched her be violated again and again and again. Without fail, without break, she was subjected to what her so called “trainers” wanted. She cried out in agony at first, clawed at her trainers, tried with all the power she could muster from her tiny three-foot muscles body. I screamed at the top of my lungs, screamed for them to stop. My entire being wincing with every one of her screams. But both of us were powerless, our screams in vain. They took everything that day, even her sweet innocence and purity.

The girl lived in misery, not that this girl knew what that word meant, she didn’t know anything, only that trash was not needed and she was equal to trash, the Enterpros made all their children though this way. She didn’t realize she wanted help because she was didn’t know what that was, that “help” existed, never even heard of the word. The girl was clueless to how riddled in emotions she was, loneliness, anger, remorse, pity, sadness. But these weren’t the only emotions she had, without realizing it, in secret to the Enterpros, she developed love. A lone Enterpros member is the reason for these emotions.

This Enterpros trainer was named Allalander and bared a striking resemblance to the late Illia, but sweet Illia had no siblings and Allalander was an only child. Yet Allalander also had silky flowing blond hair and pure green eyes with skin just fair as Illia’s, if the two stood next to each other, anyone would mistake them as twins. But I know the truth of the matter, why they looked so alike.

It was Allalander’s grandfather, Kilan who started the Enterpros Organization. Kilan was a rotten man who only sought after money, killing even his own parents in the name of money at the age of twenty. When he started Enterpros, he didn’t have enough money to hire many people or enough money to afford buying off children or for the information about children that he could steal.  So for the first few years, he had kidnapped serval women who had no families or people who would worry about them, and imprisoned them. Over and over and over again he would impregnate them and perfect his four phrase system with their children.  Amongst the imprisoned women was his youngest and only sister Sarin.

Sarin had silky blonde flowing hair and pure green eyes with fair skin. Just as her skin and eyes, her soul was that of an angel, sweet, loving and caring. Kilan had tricked his one-year younger sister the day he murdered their parents. Told her that he found a man hurt and needed her expertise to help heal the man. She, not doubting her older brother followed him, and when Kilan and Sarin were out of sight, Kilan knocked Sarin out. When she came to, Kilan told her he killed their parents and burned down their house. Sarin didn’t want to believe that her beloved older brother killed their parents, that this was some kind of joke or mistake, that it wasn’t real. But when Kilan tossed her parents bloodied wedding rings, she realized Kilan was speaking the truth because her parents would never remove their rings, it was a symbol of their love and always worn them even to sleep.

Sarin cried and cried until she went numb, but Kilan wasn’t effected by Sarin’s cries at all. He was more worried about getting is plans running and making Enterpros a success, securing the groups future. He also wanted a good male heir to his group to ensure its continuation. He decided that he would make Sarin his mistress for that purpose. And impregnated Sarin a few times, but they were all born female, he had no use for them and put them through the system. Sarin tried to fight back to save her children but in the end, she lost every single one. After the fourth child that was taken from her she wouldn’t have any children for almost ten years before she got pregnant with twins.

When the twins were born, they were fraternal, one girl and one boy. Luckily for Sarin, Kilan was not at their base when she had birth the twins, so she decided to escape with the babies. But escaping was harder than she had planned and she was force to choose between the twins which to take with her. She took the girl because she knew Kilan had wanted a boy, and the boy would be safe for a few years until she returned to get him, the girl would not.

So she took her daughter and escaped crying swearing to come back for her only son. But Sarin died a mere three years later and her daughter, Sarla, placed in an orphanage. Sarla grew up happily and married a kind man and had sweet Illia. But Sarla died after Illia seventh birthday from fever and the kind man Illia knew as father became a violent drunkard and finally Illia escape to the Milake Village. But Sarla’s brother would not be so lucky to have a blessed life.

Kilan named the boy Blyter and had him learn the ways of the Enterpros. Blyter would grew up to be as sick and twisted as Kilan and enjoy the prosper of the Enterpros. When Kilan died of old age, Blyter happily took over command of the group and established Homebase in No Man’s Land. To ensure that the group would have an heir, he married the best female Enterpros member and had Allalander at age forty.

But Allalander wasn’t like Kilan or Blyter, he hated the Enterpros. This is tribute because he had seen so many of his own sisters put into the system and saw that two of them died from the intense training. Blyter always told the young Allalander, to watch because that was his duty, his responsibility as the next leader. But he didn’t want to take over, seeing these children forced to do what they did sicken Allalander. He wanted to free them somehow and was always thinking of how to take down the Enterpros. He found his answer during his fourteenth year of life.

He would take over, that was his answer. As the heir, he had access to many of the secrets and files of the buyers of the Enterpros children, but this access was limited because he was the heir. If he became the leader he could get access to everything, even pass files, when Kilan was alive. He could destroy the group and rid the world of the Enterpros once and for all. He could give graves to all the children who had perished at the hands of their buyers and Enterpros, allow the families and loved ones who were connected to the children know what had happened to them, save the children who hadn’t died yet, and finally ensure no more children would go down this horrid route.

Allalander immediately started acting like the next leader should, participating in the training and understanding the system, showing little emotions toward the children. Blyter thought that Allalander had come around and would succeed him and didn’t doubt him. This is exactly what Allalander wanted Blyter to believed. Allalander knew, to be the hero in this world was to be the villain, he accepted this and didn’t look back.

His training was the least cruel, he couldn’t be as sadistic to them as the other members. And with every child he trained, he cried in secret.  When he was sure of no other eyes were around, he would lend out a word that was contradictory to the Enterpros, in hope they would keep it as a way to go on, as a way of letting them know to hang on until he was leader.  “Happiness or love” he would say, other times he would say “Freedom or fun,” while patting them softly on the head. But Allalander had to be careful with his actions. Although the majority of the Enterpros members stayed clear of Allalander and never questioned him, there were many who doubt him because he only started showing interest at age fourteen contest to Blyter who showed interest at age seven. Many of these members were waiting for the golden words or the silver platter moment from Allalander that would allow them to spill his blood in celebration.

And they were granted their desire when Allalander met Illia’s girl.  It would of been laughable or heart melting coincidence in a different scenario than this. These two ignorant that they were cousins, that such a cruel fate waited the two. It would their relationship that would make me hate my creators and curse them from the depths of my very being.

It was a test from Blyter when he assigned Allalander’s trainers team to her for her phase four training. Blyter saw the resemblance between the two, also ignorant of that he was her uncle. He wanted to make sure that he would succeed him and calm the uncertain members. Blyter figured if he trained this girl well despite the resemblance the members would be more accepting of Allalander.

But Allalander felt attached, like family from the very moment he laid eyes on her. It was the resemblance, that made him feel like they were family, he had yet meet anyone else who had looked so much like him. Out of fear of losing his bond with the girl, for the first year, Allalander stopped showing all kindness and trained the children that were assigned to him. But while the other kids made muffled sounds and hid their shrieks of agony, the girl responded to nothing. She did as she was told and bared the hardships with a blank face, never letting out a sound or showing the pain that she was in. Allalander felt nails hammer into his heart when he trained her. He had never once looked back in the ten years he had decided to take over, but training Illia’s girl made him regret ever making the choice. He teared as she limped quieter than the night itself. Couldn’t stand the discovery of every new purpley black spot on her supple white soft skin from the other two trainers. And over all, hated himself as he watched the other kids suffer from his selflessness of wanting to stay with the girl.

Unable to handle it anymore he resumed his kindness to the children and sweetly talked to the girl. The other kids when they hear these words, although unable to understand the words, lit up brighter than the sun. Somehow they knew they were good words. But the girl remand unresponsive. He tried time and time again, and she, time and time again never took hold to the words. What had seemed like an eternity of trying, only lasted for eight months.

It was nearing the end of her sixth year, just four months to go before the Enterpros put her for sale, and she smiled. Allalander was shocked, seeing her smile was sheer bliss for him, like the first breeze of spring in a flower meadow.

The girl and Allalander had just finished their intense BDSM training. BDSM training was the last of the training regime before all children were sold off, and the survival rate was only sixty percent. The ropes had bit into her skin so much that violet color and crimson liquid snakes roamed every inch of her body. Her arms and legs were covered in rope burns, some seeping out a deep, thick scarlet goo.  She had no breath left and was gasping for dear life, trying so desperately to catch any particle of air willing to be kind enough to her to enter her lungs. Wet and sticky from the buckets of salted water and human milk had consumed her body from all the training. Her eyes puffed from the quiet tears that were shed. Nothing of her true skin shown through the layers of training she had been through.

The girl tried to stand, but her muscles buckled and caved in on her without her permission. She fell to the ground and laid their waiting for her next instruction. Allalander rushed to her aid and cradled her in his arm, first time for either of them. Up until that point Allalander only patted the children on the head and the girl had only been groped, molested, and beaten. Looking at each, Allalander realized that this is what the girl needed. He held her in his arms and began to sing to her, ignoring what repercussions his actions may cause.

“Row, row, row your boat. Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream.” He sang softy and chopped, broken between tears and quiet sobs. He knew she wouldn’t understand the song, but deep down he wanted her too. When he took a look at the girl, she was smiling softly.  Feeling as if he had been blessed by the heavens, he sung it thrice more then retired for the night.

For the next four months Allalander cradled her in kindness and sung to her. He would sing the “Row, row, row your boat” song to her and other times he would talk to her. He loved snow and would always talk about the purity and prettiness of snow. He like the way snow sounded in other languages to, especially in Japanese and Finnish. Sometimes in a sweet voice he would go “Row, row, row your boat. Down a bunch of snow. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. The snow is glittery.” He knew it didn’t fit with the beat of the original song, but he and the girl liked that version of the song just as much as the original. The girl always wanted to hear them. When no one was around, she would quietly hum the tune and mouth the words. She would patiently await Allalander turn, then leap into his arms. He would then sing and cradle her before and after their training. The girl even started initiating training herself all too excited, all too impatient like a child wanting to play with their new toy their parent just bought them. Sometimes instead of singing or just talking, he played the naming game saying “Do you look like a Nix? How about Sheleg? No maybe more of a Chioni.” Every time he talked to her about a name, it was always name that meant snow in a different language. She played along to by shaking her head at the name he said. But it came to an end at the start of the seventh year, not because she was sold but because the other trainer found out about Allalander behavior.

Allalander got into the habit of cradling her every day, it was their bliss in hellhole they called Homebase. Their last training day of training, a week prior to her sale date, as routinely done, the girl leaped into his arm before he could act. Any time before that would not have mattered, but he knew someone was watching this time, he could feel it. He pried her off of him and was about feign anger and contempt for her actions. But he couldn’t go through with it. The mere act left the girl confused, it was written in her face. Lips quivering, eyes tearing and looking back and forth in confusion from his hands and her hands; she became restless. The pain he felt was even worse than the deep cut from him biting his lips looking at her, he felt as if he betrayed her. The girl then reached up to wipe at the blood flowing from his face but couldn’t reach his face. She stood a mere four feet and Allalander a full foot and a half taller than she, but that didn’t stop the little girl. She got on her tippy toes and reached her arm up as high as she could, extending her little figures as far they could, trying to tend to the blood running down Allalander’s face. Allalander was shocked to see the girl trying so hard for his sake, after everything he had done to her, she was now putting that to the side to help him. He grew weak knees and fell to the ground in tears. The girl walked up to Allalander and hugged and rocked him, and sung the Snow version of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”, over and over.

As she did this Allalander cried louder than he had ever before. At that moment Allalander decided that nothing mattered anymore, that He was going to give her a day of happiness. He knew it was too late for him, he was bound to execution. But she already had a price on her head, they wouldn’t kill her, she was too valuable, she has the highest buy price this coming sale.  So he deeply apologized to himself and to the kids in his head, so that he failed them, then looked up at the girl, stopping his tears.

Allalander picked her up and smiled at her. “How about we do something different?” He said to her, she only looked at him confused. As if he were the big brother or father of the girl, he began to play with the girl, scrapping their training. He tossed her up and down, played airplane and peek-ka-boo, and even taught her patty cake and rock-paper-scissors. The girl laughed and giggled for the first time and without knowing what it meant to enjoy, she enjoyed the moment. At the end of their time together, he gave the girl a quiet smile and kissed her on the forehead, then left the room.  Both uneasy.

The girl was uneasy because it was odd even for Allalander, not to do training, and Allalander knew if someone had been watching him, he didn’t have much time left. He needed to find a way to escape, by that that night the latest, and try to find a way to take down the Enterpros from the outside.

Allalander had been right, someone had been watching him and they were quick to report him to Blyter and other high ranking members. When the other Enterpros heard of his behavior, they judged it as treason and captured him as he was trying to make his escape. They beat him with their bare fists, whipped in from leather whips, branded him over and over with their metal emblems, stabbed him with small objects. They interrogated him, wanting to know what else he had done, if he had shown kindness to the other children he had trained, but he stayed quiet. They toughly tortured Allalander and decided to kill him in front of the girl the morning of her sale.

They brought the girl to a chamber where Allalander was chained up. The girl saw him worn to an inch of his life and the anger welled in her, she tried to attack the Enterpros members but they beat her and held her down. She shouted and screamed at them, trying to free herself, wanting to be at Allalander’s side. But the Enterpros only laughed at her vain struggles and taunted her. As if that wasn’t enough for the sick bastards, the Enterpros member that had tattled on Allalander, small and scrawny black haired fellow, shot Allalander serval times, slowly starting with each foot and leg, then each hand and arm before shooting him in the abdomen. Enjoying the fact that he was the one who got to kill Allalander.

Allalander held back his screams each time he was shot keeping his head down, face hidden. He knew the girl was in the room, in pain from having to witness what they had done to him. He wanted to make his death less painful for her, he didn’t want her to remember him crying out in pain. With his last moments, despite being covered in scarlet flakes and fresh crimson streams, riddled in scarring from the night before, he lifted his head with the remaining strength he had and mouthed the words “Sorry…Lumi…” and let out the biggest smile he could muster. He smiled at the girl until he drew his last painstaking breath.

I hate the Enterpros and anyone who is related to the organization, even Allalander. But at least he was trying to make things right. He didn’t deserve to die like his, a cruel and inhuman death, and the girl didn’t deserve to see it. He made the wrong choice all those years ago, he should of stolen what document he could and left the group, reporting to the royals. Maybe thing would have been different, maybe the girl would have been better protected, maybe the royal would have been able to take down the group. But now he must lay in the bed he made, making the girl responsible.

The girl watched Allalander in horror, unable to handle what had happened. His apology to her didn’t register, the name he gave her Lumi, didn’t process. As if her mind went blank, she could couldn’t think, she broke. The rest of the members laughed and the members holding her down let her go. She hesitantly approached the lifeless body that hung like meat in a butcher shop. She poked and prodded the body, trying to find some sort of life. Her eyes filled with tears as she touched the eyes and the lips of the dead body. She wacked the body and tried to clean the body, hoping Allalander would wake up. Nothing worked. When she realized he was never going to wake up, she became violent, and again tried to attack the members. She had managed to bite one and draw blood, but she soon rendered unconscious and injected with a high dose of sleep serum.  Latter on the Enterpros members packed her in a crate like she was some durable cargo, and sent her off to her buyer.

The buyer was a longtime customer of Enterpros known as “Quiet Juicer.” Quiet Juicer was an unsavory kind of human. On the surface he was a fat, greasy but kind widow, with a boy that moved off to a different country for opportunity. His head was shiny and but put marbles to shame despite having only a few stands of hair. Seen as a well-dressed man who liked his privacy, no one really knew. That deep down he was an unpardonably guy with a craving for inflicting pain and sex. To me, the fat lard looked like a big tomato with legs and arms attached. He had a quick temper and took out his frustrations in the privacy of his home out of public eye. Quiet Juicer yelled and beaten his wife and son. The wife died after thirty years of his abuse, and his son, who was genius, left when some royals scouted him for his intelligence when he turned twenty. He found Enterpros by chances not too long after his son left home and has been a buyer since. His nasty and cruel habits take too much out of the girls he bought and they never lived for more than two or three years.

Quiet Juicer had a type he liked, pretty and silent, unlike his previous wife that had been arranged for money. When he always got giddy with joy when he took a good look of what he called his “shipment,” even more so with Illia’s girl. The girl had been the prettiest of all the girls he had ordered. And soon he would find the quietest and obedient. He couldn’t get enough of her, using her like a ditty rag for his sexual pleasures every nightfall and places his frustrations on her during the day. This made she was worth the high buy price. And his excitement strengthened at the fact that this girl seemed she would last for longer than any of his previous purchases.

Quiet Juicer wouldn’t be wrong, she lasted his continuous torment for years, six long years. To show off to other buyers that were friends of his, he would invite them over and allow them to do as they pleased to the girl. But nearing the end of her sixth year at the Quiet Juicer’s resident, the girl lost her mine for good. That day I had to watch her in tears as she mutilated the Quiet Juicer and his three friends beyond recognition.

Quiet Juicer over the years moved further and further away from prying eyes. By the time he had bought Illia’s girl, he had moved to a remote small house out in snow country. It was called snow country because it snowed during the end of fall and by the end of winter, the land would be covered in several feet of snow.

The girl took an interest to the snow. When she first got to the Quiet Juicer’s residence, it was the first thing she saw through the peep holes of her box. She may not have known that the white fine powder that covered the land was snow was at first but, she unknowing felt attachment towards it. It was clean and white as it sparkled like bight stars. She loved that about the snow and as the years passed she looked forward to it every winter. She would secretly peep out the windows in hope of catching snow fall. She loved this part of snow the most because it looked like white sparkles falling to the ground from the sky.  She finally understood why Allalander liked it so much. It’s what kept her calm, kept her alive, and allowed her to keep her sanity. Every time it snowed, she thought of Allalander before his death and remembered the smiles and warmth he gave her. Having snow every winter to her was like having Allalander with her, even if it only lasted for two months.

She was filled with admiration for the snow, clueless that she was in love with its purity, that even not knowing the emotion she had was love. What she did know was that to her, the snow and Allalander were the same, that what she felt for the snow was how she felt about Allalander.  Though in due time she would learn the truth of her emotions as she learned more of spoken language. A fatal mistake that costed the Quiet Juicer and their life.

  Quiet Juicer never had a Enterpros child that lasted for more than three years, so he let his guard down frequently. And friends had no qualms shooting their mouths off in front of her. She learned how to form sentences and the meaning behind them. She discovery what feeling were and what the meaning behind the degrading words they called her. And as unfortunate as it was, with all of her acquired knowledge, she never once doubted them, she herself believed that she was tainted.

I regret not being able to do anything for her.  Not being able tell her that she was wasn’t tainted, that she was beautiful.  That the ones who were tainted were the Enterpros, the people who took her, and the Quiet Juicer and the other buyers. Tell her that there was an outside world waiting for her full of snow and wonderful new things and experiences. I wanted her to learn about hope and dream of a world that was full of it. Encourage her to hold on just a little longer and wait for an opportunity to escape and never look back, finding a new life living free. But I couldn’t. I tried so hard! I tried to pry myself out of my realm: scratched at it, gnawed at it, punched it, kicked it, I did everything in my power. But it was it was all in vain, I couldn’t leave, and she couldn’t hear me. And soon that fated day came.

It was in mid-winter, not too long after her thirteenth year of life; the snow was at its highest it had been in years. Quiet Juicer had never been too fond of the snow, but he loved privacy, so he dealt with the snowy winters, bad mouthing it on occasion. But on this day, his foul language would be too much for her to handle. Calling it worthless and stupid, continuously saying how needless and pointless it was. The girl tried her hardest so ignore Quiet Juicer, the one who calls himself master, but couldn’t when he said that snow shouldn’t exist and the world would be much better off without it.

“Please…not the snow!” she begged over and over. When she saw him walking over to the glass patio door, fearing that he was going to somehow destroy the snow.

Quiet Juicer angered by this action grab her by the hair and spat at her. “Not the SNOW HUH?” He yelled then threw her into the counter. “Not the SNOW HUH?!” He repeated harsher and louder, throwing her head into the counter again. “When do you command me? HA?” He inquired her pulling her head back by her hair. “THINK YOU’RE SMART BECAUSE YOU CAN TALK, DO YOU? HA! ANSWER ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!”

The girl repeated in a soft broken pained voice, “Please…not the snow!”

He threw her across the room then grabbed his half opened beer, walked over to the sliding door that was covered by the black drapes and pulled back. “Let me show you how much

I care for your precious snow.” He opened the door and shook the can, spilling the beer all over the snow in front of the door and as far back three feet away from the door before dropping the emptied can onto the snow.  The Quiet Juicer made sure that the helpless slave could see his entire show of violating the virgin snow by the adult beverage, laughing tauntingly all the while.

The girl screamed in agony; it was like a loud yell mixed with an ill shriek. Her world began to crack and all she could do was scream. She forgot her own pain as she cried for the voiceless, defiled snow. It reminded her of Allalander’s death and her powerlessness to save him. Her head pounded fiercely from the pulling of her thoughts scattering like the striking of a que ball and causing all the other pool balls to dance furiously with each other. Trying to handle herself and trying the make out of the event, she griped her head tightly and continued to scream her mind slowly going into a blank. Quiet Juicer mimicked her screams to mock her and the snow, but soon stopped as he met a sharp pain in his stomach.

The girl’s mind only went blank for a minute. But once she snapped out of it, her only thoughts were to make him pay. She had to make him pay, he needed to pay. She wanted him to pay for what he did to the snow, to Allalander. She got up and moved toward him. Quiet Juicer didn’t realize this because he was looking in the other direction, head turned, facing his master piece, comment that he should be a painter. As she approached him she grabbed the knife that laid on the counter from ear tiler in the day from him prepping his lunch, and like a wild animal with prey in its sights, closed in on him.

Once she reached him, gripping the knife as tightly as she could, she stabbed the knife through the stomach with all the strength she had. Quiet Juicer’s attention flew forward. He first saw the girl’s vengeance fill eyes in tear, then continued looking downward to find her hands gripping the seven-inch knife, the blade all the way through at the spot he felt the pain. It took the lard to register what was happing. But when he did, he gripped the part of the long hilt she hadn’t been holding on to with one hand and punched her with the other. But the girl was going down without a fight.

The two struggled for some time, it was mainly a losing battle for her as he punched and kicked her, but she managed to pull the knife from his stomach in attempt to use it again. But Quiet Juicer quickly to that from her and in the struggle, cut a deep cut into her left hand. With a few more struggles from both sides, she got her injured hand and wiped the blood in his eyes, blinding him. With uninjured hand, she kicked as hard as she could at his scrotum. He let out a painful cry and fell into the pool of mixed blood on the floor, clutching at his scrotum. She saw her chance, she could leave, the door was open.

She dashed out the door, and moved as quickly away from the house as she could. The snow was as cold as her punishment ice baths, but it felt good to her. She felt happy, excited and free. She spun around in the snow and wished for it to never end. In bliss from the feel of the snow. But soon enough she felt warm streams on her left hand and looked at it in horror.

She was bleeding heavily, but as fortune would have it, she had been running with her hand to her chest and her white rags had absorbed most of the blood, so nothing had fellen on the pure snow. She was relieved by this as she scanned the trail she made through the snow for as far as she could, checking for any sullied snow. She then moved her attention to her ever bleeding hand.

She squeezed her hand with the other and lifted it up above her head like Allalander had taught her in her training back at Homebase. But minutes passed it he flowing scarlet wouldn’t let up. It dripped down her arm slowly, slithering like a snake, making ridicule of her efforts. She wiped at the blood, rubbing her arm desperately on her body, allowing it to dry and cake onto herself. She did everything she could to keep the blood from spilling on to the snow, but it was no use, the blood fell on the snow. She saw her blood on the snow and began hating herself for it. She cried out of anger and in sadness, because she was now no different than Quiet Juicer, she had tainted snow.

 She was garbage, worthless, pathetic, that is what she thought of herself. Anything that made her, her; her hair, her skin, her blood, it was all dirty and useless. This very dirt was laid clearly on the winter snow.She looked at the snow and cried thinking over and over, blaming herself over and over, “it’s my fault, it’s my fault,” until she realized something.

The droplets of blood that fell on the snow looked like flower petals. Strangely beautiful in their own way. Her crying then ceased and she looked at the scarlet petals. It was at that moment that I knew I lost her.  As an overseer I cannot intervene I simply watch over life, her life, the sad spiteful miserably life that was forced on this child. Helpless to do anything for her.

She tried to make sense of the blood petal, why it had such a loveliness and appeal to it. Her thoughts became tangled and mangled together as she processed the imaged in her had. Only if a person is beautiful could they make anything beautiful. Therefore, beautiful things could never come from a tainted person, only ugly and disgusting things could come from someone as trained as she. That was the conclusion she had come up with. Yet her blood looked so pretty on the snow. How could she be tainted then? It didn't make any sense to her. She tried to figure out why this was the answer, but somewhere along the way she finally broke.

 A surge of hysterical laughter took hold of her as her sanity began to crumble along with her thoughts. She flung her head back to look at the whiten sky and turned round and round in place. Her smile cruelled and hot tears streamed down her face. “More!” she thought “MORE!” she laughed she flung her hand around and round, planting the seeds of her blood on to the snow. “MORE! MORE! MORE! MORE! MORE!” She yelled through her laugh growing louder and louder and her blood flinging bot in every direction, spilling all over the undisturbed snow.  She desired to cover the surface of the snow in her scarlet petals. “I plant my seeds! My beautiful seeds!” She exclaimed this over and over flinging her arm went until it finally went limp and blood scattered the surface of the snow all around her, she had painted her canvas. She had planted her seeds.

The girl then used her other hand to hold up her injured hand. She looked at it curiously then stuck out her tongue and slowly over her cut. The girl liked the way she tasted. To her it was the taste of beauty and she wanted more. But it wasn’t enough, she wanted something to compare it too, to let her know just how tasted her own blood was, and she knew where she could get it. She let out a wicked smile and walked back to the house sing her own Row boat song, but I could only cover my ears horror. “Row, row, row your boat, down a bloody stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily Everyone will die.” She sung it over and over, like a broken record, as she approached the house, picking up the snow shovel next to the sliding doors before entering.

She kept singing it as she dragged the long tool across the floor flowing the blood train left from the door way, finding the Quiet Juicer gasping a few feet away from the main entry of the house. When she found him she sung even louder and circled him several times, Quiet Juicer sobbing in pain and fear. “Please…please don’t kill me!” he muttered over and over again.

But the girl didn’t care, no, the begging made her feel alive. She crouched right next to his face and using the fingers of her uninjured hand, played with his blood, then proceeded to lick each fingers one, by one. She smiled at him when she finished, then swiftly, without the Quiet Juicer even seeing it coming, plunged her fingers into his eye saying “DISGUSTING” laughing all the while. He cried out in pain, only getting louder as she moved her fingers round in his eye sockets. The girl mimicked his pain and laugh at it before removing her figures. Then she got up again, grab her shovel and began singing again as she used the sharp parts of the metal to jab into joints and bones over and over again. She was having so much fun with tearing in and breaking his flash and bones, watching the blood spill from his body in bliss. Once the Quiet Juicer became quiet she checked to see if he was still breathing, and when she found he hardly had been, she smiled softly and served his head from his body and placed his head on one of the platters in the kitchen. Then she tended to her own injuries and returned to the plattered head. She petted his head, sweetly stroking the severed bloodied head she whispered into the dead ear, "Shuush, it's okay, I like playing with broken toys," as if it could still hear her, she whispered over and over, waiting for the other three to come.

I cannot speak of the rest of what happen to the girl after that because it is too gruesome for even me. As an overseer I have seen many things, watched over many wars, many murders, but nothing left me scarred, unlike that girl’s life. Till this day I hate myself for not being able to have saved her from that cruel fate. Curing my creators for not doing anything for the girl, not even letting me leave my realm, forced to watch her. I regret not being able to help her, not being able to tell her that she was she was valued. Not being able to reach out to her, let her know She had a name, Lumi. That she didn't taint the snow, the snow tainted her.

© Copyright 2019 Nick Nicosa. All rights reserved.


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