Chemical Poison

The room has been quiet for a little over five minutes. She was forced to sit down on a wooden stool with a small table and a rose in a vase on top, similar to that of the first cage she was thrown into when she arrived. However, this room also contained countless soldiers lined up across the wall and the three men she feared most.

Herbert had taken another stool and sat opposite her, more towards the left, slowly sharpening his knives as the seconds grew. Oskar was leaning against a pillar in front of her, busy looking at his nails. His stance showed he was bored as if he didn't even want to be in the room, and Anneliese knew that he would not be intervening with whatever she was about to face.

And then there was the man slowly circling her.

She had to keep her eyes on the rose to keep herself from displaying any fear for him to provoke. To use against her as he forces secrets she could never give: the serum, her father's locations, and Howard's theories for the Manhatten Project. So, as he circles her, she continues to stare and think only about the rose. Clouding her thoughts with questions about how she knew it had to be a rose from her garden, even if she had no evidence. But her gut feeling, if she ignored the sinking feeling of her soon-to-be death, was that the rose had to become her garden, as what purpose would Hydra need a rose for, if not to manipulate her? They surely weren't trying to seduce a woman within this building. Time slowed, and Anneliese would've believed anyone who told her days had passed as she continued to stare at the rose with her fingers trembling.

The tremors that slowly took control of her body would not shake away as she met his cutthroat beady eyes. The same as her very own: the same she shared with her cousins. They remained on her as he continued to circle her, they were almost thirsty for blood. Her blood. It was the first time she had seen her uncle in person since he killed her mother. And there was something incredibly wrong with how he looked - something she couldn't quite describe.

Breathing became impossible as she was no longer able to recall the last time she tasted the rose air on her tongue. Memories of being captive in a silent room seemed so far away when she was in the presence of him. Had she been anyone else, she would have been convinced that he was a god and that he commanded time. Perhaps she already did.

Her nose continued to be assaulted by the smell, crumbling all the walls she had built up in her mind from when she was just a young girl. All the time she spent protecting herself from the memory of him... all utterly helpless in the presence of Johann.

Her eyes darted across the room, back to where Oskar continued to lean against the pillar. She watched as his eyes met hers, and there was no hint of mercy or empathy that she was so used to receiving when she was younger. Oskar had truly changed and this realisation only made her shrink into the chair. Danger screamed within his eyes, a look that she was all too familiar with - he was studying the scene in front of him - he was studying her.

Now, this was home.

The constant fear of Oskar's lack of action against any of her punishments. He may not be holding the knife, but he would always be the never-ending nightmare; A single word from him created creatures made of vile and blood. Just like the rest of her family, he was a monster of his own making and he relished in it. He became a myth mother's told their children, one where happy endings did not occur... but he was completely real to her.

It was impossible to imagine the duality of his heart, as he was never one for lurking under beds like Herbert, or a constant reminder of her humane vulnerability, like Johann, instead, he did a much better job at hiding the black heart hidden under his thick skin. Skin that they shared - a black heart that Anneliese tried to run away from.

There was a time, alas a very long time ago that Anneliese adored him. A time that she would choose him over everyone else, even her own parents. But the man who leaned against the wall wasn't the Oskar of her childhood. What once used to be a boy who desired nothing more than reading and playing the piano had turned into a man who could smile as he sent a bullet through someone's head. He had created himself into some sort of devil, that carried himself with a sense of entitlement - of unquestionable power. She could no longer say there were two different Oskars. There was only one.

And she couldn't even fault him for it. Johann had taught all the men in her family the same, to be so completely self-obsessed that they believed no consequence would come from shedding blood any day they felt for it... especially if they could make a prize out of it.

And today, it seemed, he would watch whatever show Johann would put on to remind them, his soldiers and anyone watching that fleeing is not an option.

He did not move from the wall, nor did Herbert stop sharpening his knives, the crisp noise echoing across the room, as Johann walked around her. Blood slowly dribbled from her broken nail bed as she picked at it under the table as he continued to walk, to force the exact click-click-click of his shoes to match the knife sharpening... forever to be ingrained in her mind. A reminder for Anneliese that nightmares weren't just a bad night's sleep but a reality as she shared the same dark eyes as her captors.

Johann's tongue dripped with a desire to conquer as he spoke with callous intention. "Our Anneliese has finally returned."

Indeed she had and the haunting medical silver walls ensured she remained stuck. Even with the door wide open - accessible for escape, such a prospect would not be attainable as guards dressed in black stood outside the room as well. She would not be able to escape.

And the only comfort was the red rose on the table. Her rose.

"Far too many years has forced our separation, your mind has been corrupted and deluded by your weak father and now... your weak husband," He hissed, still circling her. Speckles of his cynical nature trickled in his voice, and Anneliese couldn't help but hold her hands even tighter. Perhaps the loss of blood that is certain to occur will be from her own doing. "But all of that can be easily corrected, you were always a fast learner."

Anneliese choked. Of course, she was a fast learner when a blade or shards of glass was being pushed past her skin when she didn't reply in the right way.

"After a few days you will remember what Erna forgot," he says bitterly as he comes to stand in front of her. Johann's black-gloved fingers push her chin up, forcing her to stare up at him. "That you were only ever meant to be mine."

Frostbite chilled her bones as she winced as his fingers gripped her chin tightly, bruises were certain to bloom green and purple if she lived long enough to see them. But the pain of his fingers was nothing to his declaration. Those were words she wanted to hear from anyone but Johann. Not ever Johann. She was meant to receive those words and get a fairytale ending, and she had believed it.

Those words were meant to come from Howard, and she was sure she would never hear them from his intoxicating lips again.

Johann Schmidt stole them from his feeble breaths. Just as she assumed he did with her mother when she ran off to marry her father. She, like her mother, was nothing but an object to marry off - a symbol that the Schmidt men were obsessive to the point of insanity. Their obsession with the women in their lives never ended with their death - it became worse. She feared the obsession Johann had for her mother - the same obsession her cousins had for her - had been translated down to her. A single glance at her two cousins confirmed these fears.

"Mine to destroy and mine to command," His whispers danced across her skin, as his grip tightened and forced her face up higher, stretching her neck painfully. "Mine to ruin and mine to decide if you kill or be killed."

She didn't want to show her fear, but that was a fool's wish. A Schmidt always got what it wanted, even if it came dressed as a monster in disguise.

There was no hiding from her shallow breaths or her shaking body. No escape from the curse that plagued every woman to be born into this house - this institution.

Anneliese wanted everlasting love... but such luck wasn't meant for the Schmidts - and Anneliese was just as much of a Schmidt as her uncle and cousins.

He leaned over the splintering table, a soft creak forming as he pushed down on it. Anneliese's eyes widened as his head moved closer to hers. Joahnn's eyes were sharp as he pulled her hand onto the table, roughly holding it down as he inspected the wedding ring that still sparkled on her finger.

"I should have had you on a tighter leash," Johann admits. His eyes not leaving her finger. "You resemble your mother in far too many problematic ways, but I suppose you differ in a few things. Erna wasn't stupid enough to keep her marriage a secret."

His other hand slaps her cheek and Anneliese lets out a cry. His palm collided with her skin fast, suddenly, and it fucking hurt. Anneliese quickly brought both of her hands to her cheek, begging herself - using all her goddamn willpower to not cry.

"I can still marry you off," Schmidt says as he rises back up to his full, intimidating height. "I can still use you for your only useful purpose now. You had so much promise, it a pity that you wasted it all on a weak dream of being a useless housewife to an American." His tone was dismissive, and Anneliese's eyes burned with rage. Her breathing slowly grew long and fast as she glared up at him.

She wanted him dead. More than ever before.

Johann picked up the rose from the vase, plucking the thorns off one by one, and dropping them on the table in front of her. "But where is your American now?" He hummed.

He was alone. Completely unaware of her current location. Well, maybe he was aware of the type of company she was unwilling with. But he was certain to blame himself if she was to die.

Death.

The reminder of her looming death caught up to her again, for what felt like the hundredth time.

But it felt so much more real with Johann's tight-lipped smile and her cousins lazily looking at their nails and knives.

She could die and no one in the room would care.

Panic reached her throat; a loud gasp left her mouth.

Johann's lips tugged into a smirk, a distorted version of a charming smile.

She couldn't bear to glance back at Herbert or Oskar - especially Oskar. She feared what sort of expression he would have - or the lack of it. To her, Oskar was the greatest manipulator of them all and she would never understand exactly how his brain ticked. Because once again, Oskar held no dagger and she couldn't stop herself from hating him more than Johann.

"I've given a lot of time to think about your treason, your transgression against this family." He begins to walk left to right, to left to right again. Her eyelids flutter closed as Hebert stops sharpening his knives. Between now and before, the only difference was Oskar and Herbert's new interest in her punishment.

They had risen from their stops, standing now behind Johann's slow, languid pace. Here, they looked the every bit of the heirs of Schmidt. Their posture was rigid and straight, their eyes not betraying any emotion, and their countless medals - medals she hadn't noticed before - were on full display. Curiosity ate at her mind, wondering what crimes they had committed to gain them, but she had no time for that.

Because Johann was pacing and nothing good came out of that.

"And whether you regret any of them? Of maiming Herbert, of leaving Oskar, of betraying me, of murdering your mother?"

No.

No.

She wanted to scream, and scream, and scream.

But no sound came from her lips.

It wasn't the truth. Yes, she had hurt Herbert, she had no option. She did leave Oskar, but how many times had he left her? Told her he was just going to Berlin and found himself in a military camp for several months. And Johann? How could she betray an adult when she was a child?

She was a child when she left, even if it was the right decision to leave. She was just a child, what say did she have?

And she didn't kill her mother. He did, she watched-

"My sweet, poor Erna," he mocked. "She's rotting in a ditch because of you. Her corpse has no tombstone and no roses remember her. She's become nothing because of you."

Anneliese feels tears spill over her fingers that still cradle her bruising cheek. Her eyes sting as she shakes her head furiously. It wasn't her fault, she repeated in her mind.

It wasn't her fault.

"She died because of you."

It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't her fault.

Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find any way out. The only exit was armed with far too many soldiers, and she is certain Johann made sure of that. She wasn't bound by rope, but she was trapped nonetheless. Ensnared to their sick mind game; the collateral damage for her previous freedom.

"Anneliese!"

His booming voice ricocheted across the room. Threatening and cruel. It was laced with every threat left unspoken, and Anneliese knew they were no longer threats. But promises...

Johann finally stops pacing, standing right in front of her: Herbert to his left and Oskar to his right, and they all look the same. She did as well. Those bloody Schmidt genetics.

"You were all but a child when you left," he tuts. "A girl at worse, what would I be if I held a helpless young child for the crimes of her parents?"

Anneliese's eyes widened, the smallest part of her was relieved. Maybe she would be spared-

-And then she saw the way his eyes kept falling to her ring.

She was fucked.

"But I suppose your crimes as a woman are far worse. Your association and collaborations against Hydra - your family, is..."

He pauses. Steps forward, and then smiles. A real, teeth-showing smile leaves Anneliese breathless and eyes wide.

"Treacherous?", Herbert prompts. "Deceitful?"

Oskar chuckles before his piercing eyes cut her skin like a dagger. "Perfidious is probably a better word."

Johann muses in agreement. There's another silence before he speaks again: "Oskar believes you wouldn't falter in torture, that your parents would ensure you remain strong."

Even her eyes were trapped on him, staring into his identical dark eyes. Terror haunted her every breath as this was not luxury, not in the slightest.

This was danger.

Aromas of roses flooded her nose once more, and Anneliese wanted to be saved. For Howard to come crashing through the bricks and save her. Surely she deserves a Prince Charming, right? After all the suffering and mistreatment.

But life was never kind to those who went against fate. And Anneliese had, ensured she was not made into a monster made of blood and bone. Or perhaps she was, and this was meant to be her happy ending - to become just like them.

"Herbert suggested branding you - forcing you to be one of us. Schmidt," He paused, grinning as he licked his lips. "Hydra. A childish ploy for revenge I am sure."

No- no- no!

This shouldn't be happening to her. She was meant to spend the Christmas break in Italy, enjoying the snow as she knitted inside the comfort of her holiday home with Howard. Peace had finally been made within herself, and she found herself happily married - though not to public knowledge. A secret kept to the family she choose, not the family that she bleeds for. It was meant to be romantic.

Even when she was told they would spend a week in the military base, the Colonel had promised her she would be safe, as what was safer than a military camp surrounded by soldiers on high alert?

But this was a terrifying detour.

One of Johann's soldiers steps forward and pushes her, the sheer force pulls her from her thoughts. And she's bent over something hard. It was the wooden table. Splinters dug into her skin as if they belonged there. And it does not hurt.

Anneliese has suffered much worse to cry over a few splinters.

"But branding isn't really the Schmidt way." Johann chuckles as Herbert steps closer and passes the sharp blade he has been working on. "I was thinking of something more sentimental, something that would heal if I decided it too. It has been far too long since I've seen your skin bleed red."

Closing her eyes roughly, Anneliese tried not to cry, to yell out, and to give Johann any reaction. She refused to look at Oskar helpless, even as the realisation set it. She didn't dare look at Herbert and the knife he held, the few seconds she had seen it had been enough. It was a decorative little thing, had she seen it in any other instance she may've even called it beautiful.

"I wonder whether your skin has grown more delicate from your years in America? Whether you would still make those little hisses as the blade inches towards your precious little organs? I have been waiting to teach you again, Anneliese. Let's find out if it's still an effective teaching method, hmm?"

Again.

It had happened before.

If Herbert was the monster under the bed, and Oskar the horror she never anticipated then Johann was the devil with the world in his clutches. Dictating whether the storm will flood or flower crop; if the sunlight with burn or dance across skin. She panics, her heart races and her mind can't recall any of the times his blade has touched her skin. Her mind is blank. She hates him. She hates them all. She hates herself. She can't remember. None of it. The memory was lost to her own mind. She can't hold it against him. She can't remember- Why can she not remember memories she's whispered to Howard on dark, stormy nights?

Callous hands suddenly held her neck, digging into her skin. And she does not cry, and she will not cry-

-And that was when she felt the soldier pushing his body weight onto her, keeping her in pace. She clenches her eyes tight as the sweet metallic smell of sharpened knives draws closer. She can feel the soldier's breathing as he continues to push her face into the table.

He was lying- he wasn't lying- the knife- oh, he wasn't lying-

"After all these years, I bet you still remember your lessons. Oskar was wrong, he believed you to be made of steel. Instead, you're just a rose- an appeared threat but so simple to crush."

Gasps came first, tears followed shortly.

The soldier grips her waist like a handle, harshly ripping her dress at the top. This was what nightmares were made of. She barely listened to the instructions about making her collarbone available.

"No one gets to escape," His voice hisses and it's filled with rage, a wanting for revenge, of his supposed need for 'justice'. She wasn't the origin of it all, but Anneliese dared to think that perhaps she was the fuel of all his fury. "Everyone must receive their punishments."

Anneliese stared ahead at Herbert and Oskar, who both seemed far too interested in what was about to happen to her. She managed to choke back a sob, her eyes remaining on the glass vase in front of her. The red rose on the table, directly in front of her nose. It laughs at her, and taunts her, just as the soldier pulls her dress down to her waist. The smell of home had always made her cry, a longing to go back. Of wanting to return home.

This want, this love was dangerous. And it was at this moment she remembered exactly what her home was. A manor made of bones and burning flesh, a family of morally corrupt monsters.

Anger burns within her, spiralling out of control - as if it danced the tarantella exactly as Nora did in the play she read so many years ago. It grows big, bigger than she ever felt before. Her fingers tingle as they spread across her body, blood sizzling and her heart thumping rigorously.

It makes her feel lighter. She's blinded by it, utterly helpless to a tight sensation in her stomach. No longer in fear of what lurked under her own skin.

She can barely breathe, struggling to even gasp. And she barely thinks straight when Johann moves his hand from her neck and pulls her hair to the side. His fingers trailed all the way down past her collarbone and landed just above her breast - an area she knew he'd never scarred. The blade follows shortly and she can't move; the soldier's grip becomes painfully tight, threatening a worse fate if she were to move. If she ever dared to move.

The knife nicks at her skin and Anneliese's lips are no longer trembling. Her eyes flooded with tears and she was sobbing.

"Your blood will look so pretty," Johann whispered into her ear, his breaths burning her ear. The blade curled painfully against her skin. "I wonder what patterns Herbert and Oskar will draw into you after"

Johann pulls back but the soldier keeps her in place. She can feel his warm breath at her neck and it disgusts her. It disgusts her more than being nearly exposed, thankfully saved by the bra she wears. But she feels humiliated all the same. Fury builds and she's blinded by it. Her hands aren't bound, she realised. And the rose vase is right in front of her. She reaches for it quickly and slams the vase straight into the soldier. She screams; the crisp sound of glass shattering becoming delightful to her ears. She quickly shrugs him off her and turns around to face the falling soldier.

Anneliese isn't sure if she is blinded by the red feeling of rage or her own blood, but her lips tug into a smile at the sight she witnessed. The soldier collapsed, falling to the ground with a whine. And there was still glass everywhere, rose petals flew across the floor and the sticky consistency of the water from the vase. It was long forgotten; glass imbedded in her palm is nothing compared to the smallest victory against a nobody soldier.

It doesn't register in her mind that no one stops her right away. It takes a moment of deep heaving for any of the soldier's to be propelled into action. Right in time for them to witness Anneliese pick up the splintering stool she was previously seated on. A musky brown stool, covered in layers of red dried liquid.

"I'll kill you!" Anneliese screams, raising the stool above her head as she panted loudly. Ready to throw it directly at the soldier's fallen body, and then her families. "I'll kill you-"

She fought like a Lorenz, but Schmidt's were so much better. So, so, so much better.

And before she knows it, the stool is slammed out of her hands and one of the Hydra soldiers grabs her arm harshly. The sheer violence of it all forced a hiss from her lips. The soldier twists her arm until she has no option but to yield, to bend over. She was on her knee as glass pierced her flesh.

Pain was for those with luxury, dressed in the diamond jewels of freedom and tiaras of truth. True pain, the screeching of glass cutting through her skin was not for her. Luxury was for those who could feel the pain.

Those who deserved to feel always got to keep luxury.

Howard was god himself, seated upon a throne of gold and emeralds. He was luxury reincarnated, his wealth never sinking.

Another fragment of glass drew an intricate shape into her skin, blessing her with scars to come. If such things could even be called a blessing. Anneliese was not wealthy, and she did not deserve luxury.

Maybe in the past-

-but not now.

As she became wrath's incarnation, vengeance's sinking

Gritting through her teeth, the Hydra soldiers tried to keep her sated, to keep her from moving. Their leather gloves painted bruises on her skin, but she fought.

Screamed.

Fought.

Screamed

"Let go of her," Johann snarled. All oxygen left the room just as Anneliese felt the tight grip around her shoulders instantly slackens. Her ears were thumping loudly, deaf to the shuffling footsteps away from her.

She had to run. Johann, who was always so carefully collected looked like a mess. Oskar and Herbert weren't much better: Herbert looked shocked and Oskar seemed amused. She needed to run now.

Forcing herself back onto her feet, she chooses to only stare at Oskar. His lips curl into a smirk as he mouths: "Game over." She was trapped - there was no running.

Especially when Johann shouts. His beady eyes remained on Anneliese. "What an interesting escalation," he slowly mused, as if his tongue was dripping poison. It had always dripped with poison.

Before Anneliese could even open her mouth Oskar spoke first.

"I've always said we underestimate her."

"More like forget about her bite," Herbert mutters.

Oskar mumbled in agreement. "Obviously we underestimated her and now she's gone ahead and smashed a fucking vase and stabbed the man to death with a stool"

She cringed. Her mind raced as she realised what she'd done: killed a soldier following an order. Oh god.

Anneliese must have missed a command from Johann because the soldiers held her arms and shoulders again... dragging her further down the long room, towards a fireplace she hadn't seen. That wasn't there before, Anneliese thought, she must've missed it. Why would an architect ever place a fireplace here?

They weren't just going to maim her with a knife, they were also going to brand her.

She started screaming and fighting the soldiers until she couldn't. She was pinned down on the cold floor, her cheek pressed against the ground. Her tears fell quickly as she watched the metal rod with a skull with 8 octopus legs dance within the fire.

She could see the glow of orange as the metal heated. Fiery passion led her to Howard and it seemed the same passion led Johann to her. And as the flames grew - so did the glow. It was going to happen-

-they removed what remained of her dress, followed by her bra.

They removed remained of her dress, followed by her bra.

Her dress.

Her bra.

They were going to brand her back. Across the scars that Johann had already caused.

A sudden rush of adrenaline pierced through her heart, thumping rapidly against her skin. Her lungs jumped down her throat as pleas left her lips before she could stop them. Helpless little pleads.

"Please," Anneliese choked on, "Anything but my back, please uncle."

The rod slowly moved away from the flame.

Her voice grew, almost screaming. "Uncle, please! Please anywhere but my back!"

There was no answer as she felt an extra pair of hands hold now her wriggling body. She was doomed. They were removing her freedom... for how was she meant to run if she couldn't move? How was she to escape if she couldn't walk? There was no cure for a ruined back in America - if her spine was to be destroyed...

... she let out a cry.

Herbert was the one to hold the metal and she knew this would destroy her.

Family values only kept her going as long as she was as far away from the Schmidt's. But her freedom? It came from her ability to crawl into hidden closets away from her cousins; to run away from the bullets when she fled; to save Abraham from the crashing glass. Without her spine, the reason she could even move - the opportunity of fleeing taken from her - she was destroyed.

There was no saving the damned, and she was certain her escape would not happen.

Then the metal touched her skin and everything went white. Screams that certainly came from her own throat twisted across the hallway, all the way down to the machinery room, and eventually into the cells of the prisoners. Even with every passing second. Every searing second. She could hear it.

The sizzling.

And her screams.

And the sizzling.

And the screams.

Her throat was dry - unable to scream anymore. But it didn't stop her from trying, even if she knew it was helpless. There would be no mercy at the hands of a man like Johann.

She hadn't even realised the metal had been removed from her back to her hand. They had pulled her right arm back, and her silent screams crippled her dry throat. Especially as she heard the crack from her shoulder dislocating.

A searing pain spread across her body - not like the blood bubbling from being branded. Her eyes blinked as she saw another mental rod inch closer to her body.

He was going to brand her back again - but it was the knife that danced in the flames that terrified her more. Oskar inched closer towards her arms, finding the spot of his mutilations on the top of her hand - he was aiming to kill her future and dreams. How was a scientist meant to complete an experiment without hands? How was a Secretary meant to write responses if she couldn't hold a pen? How was she meant to knit if she couldn't touch a metal needle without shying away from it?

If Herbert stole her spine to remove her freedom, Oskar burned her hands to eradicate what it meant to be Anneliese Lorenz.

And the onslaught begins. Everything was amplified. The crackling of her skin flaking, the pulsing blood bursting. Blade cuts her skin and she feels her blood sing and cry as hot metal cuts small intricate patterns into her hand. She was dying, surely this was how dying felt.

It was all dressed in red and sorrow. A black bag covered her future. Soundless screams were left unheard from her cracked lips. Her throat burned nearly more than any mark on her body. It was soft, warm, and completely destroyed. The flames that crawled her back were in competition with the marks the knife carved to cause the most pain; Anneliese was sure she was going to be driven into hysteria from the pain

Another crack and her left arm was moved into position, and it started again. She couldn't escape the legacy she had fled from. No amount of money could save her - Howard wouldn't be able to rescue her. She was damned, completely. Fire eradicated not only her skin but her future. Herbert's careful administration of marking her entire back as Oskar worked on her other hand had her pleading.

Johann stood in front of her, his eyes looking down at her. She begs. Mouthing promises she knows, that he knows, she would never be able to keep. She begs for death. To be in a cage of his choosing. To be sent off to be married and raped by a man of his choosing. She begs that she will tell him anything and everything to do with Howard's actions in the war. All to just stop the pain.

But his face betrays nothing but satisfaction. She's burned, cut, and begging: exactly how he always wanted her to be.

Oskar moved to her feet and she cried. He had spared the bottom of her hand, only the top being bloody and battered. But he held no sympathy for her feet. His blade cuts the sole of her foot and her moans of pain grow louder than before.

She wouldn't be able to flee back to camp - as she wouldn't make it back injured, and if she did, they would be far too infected for her to ever walk again. How many enemies had she seen her uncle condemn to death by cutting their feet and forcing them to walk across mould? Inflicting them to work a laborious job, without shoes, until they died from infection and pain. Oskar was going to completely cripple her.

That was when she heard the crackling of fire when a second rod entered the fireplace. They were going to brand her lower back at the same time- she was- she could not breathe.

The rods touched the skin of her lower back and it all burned - it all hurt. This was fire cascading.

Oskar didn't make it any better as his blade began to cut her neck, taking small, precise nicks that made her stomach lurk. She fears what she would throw up; would it be the rose petal or an entire organ?

She could feel everything. The burn. The blistering skin. The bleeding wound. And the smell was even worse.

It smelt like burnt skin.

A horrible stretch that had overtaken all of Germany and anywhere they invaded. It was the product of bodies burning, of skin burning.

And then a siren went off, followed by the sounds of guns. Anneliese felt the metal rod fall to the ground and hit her ankle, causing her to bend her legs away from it. The blade continues its path towards her shoulder, and then, roughly, she feels Oskar stab it deep. No cry left her lips as her hands slowly let go of her.

She could move.

She could move.

No one was holding her anymore.

Daring to open her eyes again, she noticed how all the men had fled after Johann. Footsteps were matching the noises of the bullets ricocheting. They were coming closer- and closer-

Energy surged within her as her eyes widened as only Oskar and Herbert stood by her body.

She clenched her teeth roughly as she pushed herself up from the ground with the rod - crying as her hands sizzled with the contact with the metal. And, without a second thought, she swung the branding rod across Herbert's chest.

And his legs, and his ankles.

He then fell.

And Anneliese didn't stop, smashing the rod into his shoulder, and eventually his head. She continued until he's eyes lulled to the back of his head and Oskar left an audible gasp. Anneliese swings it towards Oskar, who - in some level of shock for a brother he never really cared about - wasn't ready to fend off the branding rod. It hits him in the neck and he falls to his knees in a hiss, his hand clutching at the bleeding, burnt piece of flesh.

Panic surged within her as she forced herself to remain standing, crying out as her back screamed in pain. The pain of the burning was nothing compared to the cold cement piercing her broken, bloody skin.

She stares down at him, using the metal rod to stabilise herself: she has to get out right now. His lips were curved, and she knew what he wanted. He wanted a game of cat and mouse.

It forced the breath out of her throat. And she watched as a drop of his blood landed on the floor, it was just as sinister as the grin Oskar threw her way.

She had to run now, she had to run. Her eyes scattered across the room until they handed on her target. A no longer armed exit. With a deep breath, a simple prayer to a god, a deity - anything that will offer her help...

She ran.

She ran.

She ran.

Past the Hydra soldiers who seemed to care very little for a running woman compared to the bullets that grew closer. However, some that she could easily tell by their array of metals knew exactly who she was. Their keen eyes seemed to resemble something of sorrow, as they all very well knew what her fate was. She wasn't anyone's to hurt, to mutilate, or to kill. As Johann, alongside her cousins, had so cleverly said, she was his. And his only.

A toy for him to play with. A doll for him to dress up. A thing for him to dispose of at any inconvenience.

And so she ran, faster than she ever did. Risking a second to slow down to turn her head. To see-

-Sobs whimpered from her throat as she continued to run past guards. She was certain they were sympathetic to her cause now as they watched the second-highest-ranking Hydra member follow her.

Oskar never runs. And he was running straight towards her.

"ANNELIESE"

His voice sent shivers through her body, nearly buckling her knees as she only ran faster. Away from the manic cousin and towards her hopeful escape.

But this was not a romance, not a happily ever after.

Anneliese's story was one of infection, made of blood and bone. To fester within and no cure in sight. So, she chose amputation every time. Slowly cutting at her body, all in the hope of stopping the spread-

-but it seemed the infection had already spread too far.

As Oskar Schmidt continued to run towards her. His feet thumping loudly against the cement floor as he continued to tell her name. She didn't dare to turn around to face him, knowing she would only see a terrifying sight. Blood dropped from his neck and his eyes blazed with a single goal.

She was the goal, the target. Always was, and forever so. Anneliese was naive to ever think she wasn't one.

Her papa was never a target, that was a truth. He wasn't a Schmidt.

She was.

Somehow, Anneliese had made it into a completely armed room. Machinery surrounds her. This was the scientific division that made Hydra who they were, this was what she feared. Nearly more than Oskar, who was still chasing her.

It was technology that Howard could not invent. It was chemistry she could never dream about. It was money that Alexander could never touch. It was dangerous, and it screamed luxury.

And it smelt like roses from her garden.

Heaving loudly, Anneliese was not made to run for a long time. And perhaps that was the curse of it all. She wouldn't be able to outrun Oskar, a trained soldier.

Her heart was beating erratically as she continued to run, past the soldiers that only stared. Not so much at her running self, but further down.

She was completely exposed to the waist.

Embarrassment couldn't even make home in her lungs as her rapid breathing stole all the willpower she had left. And they all stood there, preparing their guns and watching as Oskar taunted her with her name. Turning her head behind her, risking everything, her eyes widened as Oskar was just as terrifying as she believed.

His smile was manic, borderline insane. Blood dripped past his lips and he licked it, staining his teeth red. Their eyes were bloodshot, similar to what she assumed her eyes also looked like, but the desire behind them was completely different.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god!

Ruination. Destruction. Blasphemous.

And then she tripped.

She had delivered herself to the devil. Closing her eyes tightly shut as she heard Oskar's rapid breathing slow down as he stood behind her, cackling. Death would be nicer; instead, she would be damned. Again and again and again.

She couldn't hear her breaths anymore - only that of her screaming mind or perhaps it was her voice. There would be no saving and no rescue. Trapped.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god.

And then the screaming began and this was definitely not hers. It was growing louder every second and the floor had begun to shake, tremble and her nails scratched the cement. She couldn't feel them. There was so much white in her mind that she couldn't feel her hands anymore.

Her body shook and she refused to open her eyes. She couldn't feel if the ground was hot or cold. If it was smooth or rough.

There was nothing left. No more future. No more love and no more choices. Herbert suggested it, Johann decided that and Oskar ensured it. There was nothing left.

No mother to hug her to tell her it will be okay. No father to pick up the pieces of her fractured soul. No one to save her and no one to mourn her.

Fingers trailed her skin and she refused to shiver. There was always danger in her life but she never expected it to come in the form of Oskar. The cousin she adored more than the others. The man who played a game of deception and a boy who would listen to Anneliese's strange dreams as a child. She always assumed Herbert would deliver the killing blow, to chase her until she had no choice but to give up. Instead, she got Oskar.

Though she feared the mind of Oskar and the brutality of Herbert, she was starting to think she had gotten the two mixed up.

As it was Oskar delivering the damning punishments, and Herbert suggesting the most vile words.

And there were still screams. The screaming was calming her mind somehow, and the screaming wasn't from her or anyone else. It was something other.

The alarms were still going off.

Snapping her eyes open she saw Oskar's face staring at her. She had expected to see a cunning smile; instead, it was a frown of shame. His lips fell and his eyes dropped. In the now dark compound with only red lights illuminating the room, Anneliese had just noticed how much older and tired he seemed.

She wondered if guilt was eating him as quickly as it ate her. How the crashing memories overtook her nights and the ways the past slipped across her skin in bruises and cuts.

That maybe the fire in his eyes wasn't exactly true flames but perhaps a disguise. But she owed him no sympathy.

The man had watched her back be burnt - he had cut her hand and feet into pieces - pieces she could no longer feel The man allowed his guards to grope and rip her clothes off and the man had been the one to collect her.

She owed this man nothing and yet, her mind reminded her that her past owed him everything.

Unable to fight his hands, she was his doll as he slipped her hands into the oversized coat he was wearing just before; all black, leather and the red skull embroidered on the left breast pocket. It was heavier than the first one he had given her. She didn't even have the effort to tell him to remove the silver octopus pin.

The fabric brushed against her skin and she whimpered but remained quiet, ignoring the searing pain that had begun to return.

"Can you stand?"

She didn't reply but she knew the answer. She had run away from the man. She could stand. She was certain of it.

His hands held onto her waist tightly, careful to avoid her back as he lifted her from the ground. Oskar was gentle and slow as she rose from the ground and once she was on her feet-

Oh, once she was on her feet she knew something was terribly wrong.

It was electrifying. It was hot ash scorning her skin as she fell. The dazzling sizzle from it all was too much. She couldn't endure it. And she fell, faster and more rapidly as wounds better left unknown became apparent.

She could not stand.

And as if this was her fate - Anneliese knew it was the cruellest kind. The skin on the sole of her foot was tender; there was no barrier between the cement and her bones. It was all just blood.

"Anneliese!"

She was ruined in a way she never expected. She never thought the fire would consume her in this way. She was nothing more, she never will.

"Anneliese!"

Blisters were the worst the burning could do, she told herself. A small cut here and there would be all they do.

Staring down she saw the glimpses of the sole of her feet. Red. Bloody. Tarnished.

She images her back: multiple skulls burnt into her skin.

She didn't dare to look at her hand, nor try to glance at her ruined shoulder, somewhere between running and falling it had been removed. She couldn't fathom how her heart would break at the sight of her mother's family name branded on her lower back.

If she couldn't be Johann's, Anneliese thought as tears sprung in her eyes, he had made sure no other could claim her.

Mutilated. How could she have not seen that coming? She assumed death as the most likely punishment, with rape and entrapment following after. Branding was never an option or a choice in her mind.

"You need to go Anneliese!"

The frantic tone in Oskar's voice evoked a thought that went unaddressed.

Howard.

How would he take it? Would this brand make him pull away? How was she meant to face him knowing that she could not walk - how was she meant to get back to him if she could not stand?

Her heart clenched unbelievably tight. Johann hadn't trapped her in a cage of steel and iron but one made from fire and blood. How could she escape if she could not move?

"Anneliese," Oskar said firmly. "I will not have you be weak when we are yet to have a fair fight."

She couldn't move. She- she wasn't able to move! Would she ever be able to move? To walk to the bus? To run around the office? To stand backstages as Howard received an award?

As the environment changed, Anneliese knew it wasn't her moving. The sounds of crashing metal and explosions drowned out Oskar's voice. She had lost her freedom. Dependent on the arm of a traitorous cousin.

It was all too much.

Hearing and seeing became all too difficult: everything felt fragmented.

"Uncle wants us to fight for the spot of heir and I will not win because you are weak."

"Should we shoot him- Wait? Is that Miss Lorenz?"

Bullets fire, and she falls to the cement.

"We will meet again!", bullets follow and her back burns from the coat touching her skin.

"Fuck!", cried another voice - was it Barnes or Falsworth? She couldn't be sure.

Someone picks her up, much more gentler than before.

They move fast and Anneliese finds herself in and out of consciousness; eyes fluttering as she looks up at him. Blond-haired man in all blue.

"Steve?", she croaks.

"The building is about to blow!", he shouts. He doesn't hear her. Anneliese fears her last words will not be heard.

Oh god.

Death.

Maybe this whiteness and silence was death coming for her? It had to be. She hopes it is.