CONTENT WARNING:
Rape (not explicit)
__________________
On a beach under a starlit sky, there stood a girl.
Her neck was craned upward, and she looked at the stars. Their light reflected in her eyes, and on the traces of tears on her cheeks. She had waited so long. She was tired and she felt so lonely. She knew that chances were slim, but she held onto that remaining sliver of hope with all her might.
Seven times better odds, she thought, might not have been enough. I should have wished on all of them.
She came here every night. She spent hours waiting, staring up at that constellation, until the seven bright lights had burned themselves into her retina. The seven sisters that she had wished upon had forsaken her. She had always known that it had been a silly wish. A stupid dream. She didn't mind that she would not get to visit these distant stars after all. What bothered her was that she wouldn't get to fulfill her promise to the most important person in her life.
Tonight, she had told herself, would be the last night that she would come to this place. Not just because she couldn't bear looking up at that sky any longer, but also because she knew, she wouldn't survive the next cycle. This was her last night on this planet, one way or another.
Lars watched the girl as she lowered her head again and rubbed her sore neck. Her dark hair fell over her face, but he would have recognized her any place, any time, instantly.
"Null?" he called out her name, confused. He couldn't recall how they had gotten back here.
She raised her head to look at him, surprise and confusion on her face, too. Her cheeks were hollow and there were dark shadows under her eyes. She looked weary, but besides that, also much younger than she usually did in this place.
"Null?" he spoke her name again, and took a step toward her.
"Who is Null?" the girl asked, puzzled. Behind her, a bright star flickered in the sky, and began to descend towards the horizon.
"My name is Evelyn."
~ ~ ~
Evelyn.
The name hung in the air, heavy like the scent of jasmine flowers.
"Evelyn," the man whispered, "You're Evelyn Langdon. It's a pleasure..."
She looked up at the man she had just bumped into. He was tall, wore an expensive looking dark grey suit, and his sleek dark hair was combed back in a neat fashion. His eyes were of a curious amber color. Too light to qualify as hazel, they looked more like liquid gold in the harsh light of the hydroponics deck. His gaze wandered up from her name tag, which only had 'E. Langdon' written on it, and came to rest on her face.
"How do you know my first name?" she asked, puzzled.
"I heard it before," he just said, as he bent down to pick up the stack of papers she had dropped. He handed them to her with a smirk.
She narrowed her eyes at him as she took them. He didn't look like the kind of person who would read the scientific literature on artificial photosynthetic systems that she had co-authored during the past two years of her internship. Even if he had read it, her name only came up close to the very end of those authorship lists, with the other interns and technicians. And even there, she was only 'E. Langdon'.
"From whom?" she asked. He also didn't look like the kind of person who would just casually take a stroll on the hydroponics deck in the first place, and she wondered what had brought him here.
"From people praising you," he said and pointed over his shoulder, towards the office of her boss.
Her eyes widened as the realization hit her. Her boss had told her about an important visitor - and she had just literally bumped into him. This man was Riga Lawrence. She recalled seeing his face before, but only on some network broadcasts, and she had never really paid much attention to those.
He owned this space station, and everything and everyone on it.
"We were discussing budget plans for the next quarter. The work you're doing here seems to come along fantastically, but the advisory board has suggested we cut some costs on the upkeep of this station. They pointed out that this place uses a lot of energy..." he looked up at the harsh lights, and they made his eyes look like pools of honey.
"I can see why you need it, though," he added and cast a glance at the flora surrounding them.
She blinked at him in utter confusion.
This man and his money controlled all operations on this station. Her boss had used almost their entire grant money to rent this lab space, because it orbited a planet that held some of the most interesting plant samples in known space. But if the advisory board decided that they were too expensive or too bothersome to keep around, they'd have a big problem.
She clenched the papers in her hands tightly as she looked up at him.
"So what will you do about it?" she asked, a hint of defiance in her voice.
He raised an eyebrow at her blunt question. He was probably used to more boot-licking when people addressed him. But she couldn't care less about titles, money or protocol. These elites were all the same – ignorant, aloof, no respect for the importance of her work, nor for life itself. They thought their money could buy everything, and sadly, in this world, it usually could.
A part of her prepared for him to take offense. She expected him to take offense. She was curious what he would do about it. But to her great surprise, the corners of his lips curled up in an amused smile, before he turned away to look more closely at one of the plants growing in a rack next to them.
"I have a great interest in plants... not as sophisticated as what you do here, of course, but I quite enjoy looking at beautiful flowers," he said, and cast her a strange sideward glance. "My favorite are jasmines."
She stared at him, dumbfounded, as he continued to scrutinize the hydroponic rack. That was definitely not the answer she had expected from someone like him.
"I feel like I could learn a thing or two from you," he said, as he turned back to her and stepped closer. He was almost two heads taller than her, and the way he looked down on her now made her feel very strange. He flashed her a complex grin, and leaned closer.
"So how about I invite you for dinner and you tell me all about your work on this station, and convince me it's worthwhile, Miss Langdon?"
~ ~ ~
Evelyn Langdon.
He whispered her name, one summer night under the jasmine trees. It was strange to hear him say it like that. In all the three years that they had been together, he had always called her Eve.
"Evelyn Langdon. Will you become Evelyn Lawrence?"
She shifted in his arms, looking up at him with a confused crease on her brow.
"What?" she asked.
"You heard me right," he said with a grin. "I just asked you to marry me."
She was left speechless for a moment. They had never talked about that before. She had never even considered the possibility. Not because she wouldn't want to, but because it seemed so inconceivable, so impossible. Even after three years, ever day she spent with him, she found herself wondering if this was all just a dream and she would wake up soon. There were so many differences between them. He had everything, status, family, wealth. And she had nothing but her work.
At her silence, his expression changed from a self-assured smirk to a look of dismay.
"I... I mean... you can also say no..."
"I wanna keep the name," she cut him off.
"What?" Now it was his turn to look confused.
"I want to keep my name," she repeated. "It's on all my publications, and I already did all the formalities for my thesis, and I'm not gonna change-"
He cut her off by pushing her down into the grass and sealing their lips together in a kiss. It was wild and passionate, and she barely found the time to draw a breath of heavy, jasmine-scented air. When he finally drew away, not more than an inch, her breathing had become erratic, and she felt dizzy.
"Is that a yes?" he whispered against her lips.
"What will your parents say?" she asked, "The family? The House?"
"They can all fuck off for all I care," he answered in a husky voice. "I don't need their permission to marry the woman I love."
He traced his fingers along the side of her neck and along her collar bone, but it was his words that caused a shiver to run down her spine.
"Hm, say that again," she pleaded with a sigh. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his touch on her skin, the grass below her back, and the scent of the flowers in the air.
"Say that you'll marry me," he demanded in return.
She buried her hands in his hair and moaned softly as he leaned down to place kisses along the path that his fingertips had drawn before. Then she moved her hands to the sides of his face and pulled it up, so he would look her in the eyes as she answered.
"I'll marry you, Riga."
~ ~ ~
Evelyn Lawrence.
The name was printed on the piece of paper in her hands as if to mock her. She crumpled it up as she clenched her fist around it.
"Eve, be smart about this, will you?" Riga said as he grabbed her shoulders to force her to look at him.
"No, Riga. Not a chance," she replied and shook her head. She wasn't angry – she was disappointed.
"Please... just consider-"
"I won't go to that university! I already made my choice," she said firmly.
"But... it's an elite place... their xenobiology department..."
"Cut it out, Riga!" she grumbled. "We both know that this isn't really what this is about. This is about the survey gig on Thanatos 3."
He was about to say something, but his jaw just snapped shut. He let go of her shoulders and stepped away. He turned his back on her, and looked through the window down on the garden below. She didn't need to see his face to know exactly what kind of emotions were displayed on it. She sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry, but... you know how important this is to me," she said, "I really can't believe you'd sign me up for that program without saying anything, without even talking to me about it. Without asking me what I want!"
She threw her hands up in frustration and groaned. "And even under your name, of all things!"
"It would be closer," he said. His voice very quiet and composed, but she saw the tension in his shoulders. "We could see each other more often."
She chewed on her lip.
"I'd like that too, but... I cannot go there. This program starts in four weeks and I need to finish my work with Professor Zacharie first," she said. "But after that... I'll find something closer. I'll even wait a semester, if I have to. I promise. It's not like I enjoy spending so much time apart from you, you know..."
He turned around so abruptly that she jerked back in surprise, but she didn't get very far. In an instant, he had locker her in an embrace so tight that she couldn't move and could barely even breathe.
"I can't let you go there, Eve..." he whispered against her hair. "There's raiders everywhere in that sector. Hell, that whole planet itself could blow up any day. There's earthquakes. Solar flares. Hundreds of unclassified life forms. And now a fucking irradiated meteorite with god knows what living inside of it. That place is a deathtrap. Zacharie knows that. The local authorities know that. You know that, too."
His voice was strained. She could feel that he was trembling.
"I'm sorry, Riga," she said. She shifted in his arms until she could move, and softly pushed him away. Her glance fell on her left hand as it rested on his chest. The ring he had given her felt strangely hot and heavy against her skin now.
She stepped away, but he grabbed her wrist and held on to it.
"You can't go there," he said, his voice a low growl. "You won't go there."
She looked at his hand on her wrist in surprise, and then up at his face. There was a darkness in his golden eyes that she had never seen before. It scared her, and she yanked her hand free.
She had always thought that Riga was different, that he was not one of those people who thought their money could buy everything. She had thought that he understood why some things in this world could not be resolved by throwing money at them. And yet he had bought her a way into one of the most prestigious universities in space and thought she would simply give up on a lifelong dream because of this unwanted gift.
"Why do you think you get to make that decision?" she asked.
"Why are you so ungrateful?" he hissed, clearly forcing himself to stay calm. "Did I not give you all you ever wanted? Did I not-"
"Oh shut up," she cut him off. "I never... I never asked you to... I never asked for any of this!"
She gestured at the room around her. Her heart was beating heavy in her chest, and his words hurt her much more than he probably realized.
"What... what do you even think of me? Do you really think I am the kind of girl who would..."
"You are my fiancée, Evelyn." He spoke her name, her full name, and it sounded like a threat. It sent shivers down her spine, but not of the pleasant kind.
"But that doesn't make me your fucking property!" she spat at him.
He stared at her, speechless and wide-eyed, as she turned around and barged out of the room. She made a hard choice that night, and left the ring on his desk before her departure.
Evelyn Langdon would never return to Riga Lawrence's house again.
~ ~ ~
"Precious one."
His voice was a hoarse whisper, heavy as the scent in the air around her.
"Say my name. Say you love me."
His eyes had been sulfur when he had taken her to this place, where the air was as heavy as his words, and it was hard to breathe. Now his hands cast fire on her body as she lay in the grass, and she wished that the ground below would open up and swallow her. She didn't understand any of it, other than the fact that what he did caused her an agonizing pain that made her want to scream out loud. But she was too scared to open her mouth, too scared to open her eyes.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She felt his hand on her neck, a fleeting caress with and underlying, trembling threat of even more pain.
She opened her eyes tentatively. She could not see him clearly, half of her face was covered by her hair, and yet what she saw was already too much. She couldn't look at his face, so instead she focused on his necklace. The thin, silver chain with the silver loop swayed in front of her eyes, as if to hypnotize her. Still, his weight on top of her seemed unbearable, and the weight of the air in this place too. Her breathing was shallow and short, his was erratic and heavy.
She clenched the grass and dug her fingers into the ground, still hoping it would open up below her.
"Say my name," he demanded again, his thumb tracing across her larynx as she swallowed hard.
"Riga," she whispered.
"Say you love me," he ordered. He stared down at her, and even in the darkness the sulfur in his eyes seemed to burn right through her. "Say it!"
She closed her eyes and whispered, "I love you."
"No, no, no, that's all wrong," he complained, and as she hesitantly opened her eyes again, he was looking down at her with a frown on his face. She closed them again as he moved closer. His breath brushed over her lips, then her neck and her collarbone.
"Don't worry, I'll make you say it one way or another," he whispered in a low voice. "I'll make you scream it."
She gripped the grass tighter, and wished for the ground to turn into an abyss to swallow her whole and make her disappear.
And it did.
The world around her turned dark, and she began to fall, deeper and deeper into the chasm that had opened up underneath her, until she was caught by something. By someone. Arms wrapped around her in the darkness from behind, enveloping her in a tender embrace. But this time, she didn't feel any pain. She didn't feel any fear. It was like the warm light of a fire's glow without the searing pain of the flame.
"Wake up, Null. Please wake up," Lars whispered close to her ear.
"I wish I could," she whispered back, her voice trembling.
Around them, the darkness receded like a curtain that was drawn to the side, and it revealed a new scenery.
A man leaned over them, his face pale and covered in beads of sweat. In one hand, he held a thin silver blade. A scalpel. He brought it close to their face and up to their right eye. Their right hand shot up in a reflex too fast for them to really process. They blocked the scalpel with their hand, and the blade stabbed right through their palm. They screamed in pain.
The Butcher stepped back, his eyes wide with surprise, and his face began to turn grey.
They sat up on the surgery table, but something was wrong. Their left hand was restrained somehow, and as they looked down at it, they realized why. The skin had been torn open, all the way from the palm to the shoulder. Wires had cut through flesh, sinews, and nerves, and exposed them to the open air. It looked like a botched anatomical preparation of a corpse.
The wires came together in the Butcher's hand. He yanked at them, hard, and made them cry out once again. The wires bit and tore at their flesh, as the Butcher pulled them out.
No, Lars said, his voice strained from the pain. This is enough.
The Butcher pulled at the wires again, and Null screamed in agony.
"I said ENOUGH!"
His words tore through the nightmare, and finally shattered the illusion.