#apparently we cant make more than one change to my meds without fucking the whole thing up

[bunnyb34r]

Huh... apparently my dr forgot to send in one of my meds TWO WEEKS AGO and I didnt notice til now... that explains why I've been so irritable and anxious 🙃

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.20 "Into the Frying Pan"

CW: airplane setting, hospital setting, police mention, drugs/alcohol/cigarettes, nightmare/ptsd mention, tics/tourettes, injury description, discussion of noncon/dubcon, nsfw themes, conditioned whumpee trying to initiate sex with caretaker, dehumanizing language/discussion, discussion of past abuse, food mention, discussion of wearing a collar, derogatory language, strangling mention (let me know if I missed anything!)

It was all at once insanely overwhelming and yet incredibly simple for Elias to be away from August, to be on his own. He was allowed to just sit peacefully on his own, no one's hands were on him, there was no tight collar to make him feel suffocated. The flight attendants would occasionally sit with him and ask him how he was doing, if he needed anything, and he was thankful to be otherwise left alone. The lack of constant stress allowed him to lull himself off into a fitful, drunken sleep, where the dreams were horrendous but not stronger than his fatigue. At some point, one of the nice flight attendants keeping an eye on him draped her jacket over him, smiling at him when he woke up to look at her.

"You looked cold," she excused herself. "We'll be landing in about an hour and a half."

"Thank you so much." He grumbled back, tightening the jacket around him to get warmer, then he promptly fell back asleep.

The hospital visit was long and tedious, and by the end apparently also pointless, because they simply couldn't do anything for him. His injuries were plenty, and they had all been severe in the beginning, but by now they were all healed just enough for the doctors to slap some antibiotics and pain relievers on him and call it a day. The meds they gave him seemed diluted by the leftover drugs in his blood, so even that didn't matter.

He wasn't allowed to go straight home after that, like he'd been hoping, instead he was taken to the police station to talk about August. By then he wanted nothing more than to just be back with No Name, and the longer he wasn't the worse he felt.

"Is there anything we can get you while we wait?" People kept asking him, ever since he'd gotten on the plane. It was incredibly unnerving, didn't they know he was just an idiot pet, that he didn't get wants? He guessed maybe not having a collar on wasn't helping his case.

Right now the person asking him was a large police officer, waiting with him outside. Elias felt his stare fixated on him, probably on the tears stained on his face, or the tired, far off look in his eyes.

"Would you be able to get me a cigarette? Please?" The request came out slightly mangled and watery, he was surprised to hear himself asking for it. He was never allowed to ask for anything, he half expected to be slapped across the head for it. Instead, the officer reached out at a safe distance with one in hand. "Oh. Th...thank you so much."

As he lit up, the chill breeze ran through his hair, making him feel gradually more sober. He looked up at the palm trees swaying slightly, the realization that he was home really started to sink in. It was all gonna be ok because he was home. After talking about August and all of the atrocities he'd put him through with the police for a few hours, he felt like he had relived it all. And now it could be done, he just had to wait for No Name.

"Is that him there?" The officer piped up suddenly, making Elias flinch. He looked up to see him approaching, his shoulders high with tension.

Elias dropped his cigarette to the ground with a gasp, his hands flying to cover his eyes in pure shock. He was there! He came! Elias could've fallen over in ecstasy.

"Elias, my darling," he was saying as he got closer, his voice on the very edge of breaking, "Elias I'm here. I'm here."

One inch at a time, Elias dropped his fingers, peering up at him with tears in his eyes. How could he possibly have any more tears left? Now that he was looking at him, he was overwhelmed with relief, absolutely flooded with the promise of safety. No Name's hair was so much longer than Elias remembered, put up in messy dreads, and his face was glowing healthily. Was there...genuine, actual love in his eyes? Elias hadn't seen that in August's face for so long, his stare was often only predatory and arrogant, despite how often he threw around the word, he didn't ever look like he felt love for Elias. He couldn't fight the tears anymore, he dropped his hands to the side in complete surrender and choked back a few pathetic whines.

"Hey, hey, it's ok," he assured him, timidly stepping toward him, "you're alright."

"I c-cant...I'm so happy t-to see you." He sobbed, biting his lip to try not to get too loud. "I'm s-so relieved."

With a small, pleased hum, he grabbed Elias's arm gently, testing how much touch he would allow. "Come here, Eli."

The nickname sounded heavenly back in his mouth, and hearing the way his voice glazed over it with no remorse or second guess made Elias positively break, stumbling the step forward into his welcoming arms.

Cologne and lemons and weed. That's what he smelled like. That's what Tyson smelled like. "Oh god. Tyson. Fucking hell, Tyson."

"I've got you Elias," Tyson whispered, voice watery with his own tears, "I'm here, darling."

Elias couldn't contain himself after that, he was ticcing melodically in Tyson's arms, his name slipping out every few seconds, his hands tightening and loosening around his shirt. "You're here, Tyson. I'm so...oh Tyson..."

Slowly, Tyson led him to his car, without fully letting go of him. Only when he opened the door for him did he pull away, watching him duck in with red, swollen eyes.

"You look so different," Elias mumbled, picking at a loose thread on his borrowed pants, "I feel like it's been years."

Tyson sighed heavily, reaching over to take his hand. "Nearly 10 months."

Elias closed his eyes, a breathless whine squeezing past his lips. Ten months?! He couldn't believe that it had really been that long since they'd seen each other, and yet at the same time it felt more like years. It made him feel sick, thinking about it in that way. Ten whole months of torture, of wondering when August would snap again, terrified he would get killed if he said something deemed unpleasant. "That's...that's a really long time."

Tyson gave a somber nod, then glanced over and saw how sad it had also made Elias, and he squeezed his leg softly and forced the subject to change. "God, I've missed your voice so very badly. I'm so happy to hear you talking."

Elias couldn't take his eyes off of Tyson, and he found himself desperately holding his wrist with both hands to make sure he didn't pull away. "I forgot your name." He blurted. "I'm so sorry."

"My name?" Tyson chuckled, throwing him a questioning glance.

"When I was out there I...all I could remember was your voice and your face. I-I forgot your n-name and I feel like shit a-about it. I'm so - fucking shit - I'm so sorry."

Tyson's jaw flexed a few times, and Elias thought maybe he'd pissed him off. You're off with August for not even a year and you forget about me? You stupid slut, I can't believe I ever thought I could love you-

"Elias, you've been stuck in an absolute nightmare for the longest time. I cannot even begin to imagine..." He trailed off, shaking his head to himself. "Things are gonna be ok. You're here and you remember my name now. That's all that matters."

A shuddery breath shook Elias's frame as he tried to calm himself, and he slowly reached up to loop his fingers around his throat. When his fingers fell onto bare skin, a jolt of panic shocked through him. He didn't realize how used to the collar he'd gotten, but now that it was gone he felt stripped, naked in the worst way. He kept his hand there, cold fingers pressed to his own pulse, the entire ride back to the apartment.

It looked about the same as he remembered, which didn't mean much because every memory was sort of hazy and muddled through the drugs and injury caused brain damage. He stood in the center of the living room while Tyson set his things down in the kitchen.

"Can I get you anything Elias?" Tyson asked when he came back in. He had a glass of water in his hands, and Elias cringed hard as he took it from him.

"People keep asking me that," he mumbled, "I'm not...not allowed..."

Tyson frowned at him, tilting his head to the side. He gave Elias a second to answer on his own, but he'd already decided to stop talking. "Not allowed what, Eli?"

"Not allowed to want things. I wish people would stop...stop asking what I want. I can't want anything."

The face Tyson made at that was like he smelt something foul, his nose wrinkling as he thought about what he'd been told. He had guessed that Elias would be damaged when he got back, but it had been so long he couldn't even fathom what broken pieces he'd have to work with.

"Ok. Finish your water and we'll get you in the shower. How's that?" He kept his voice gentle in the suggestion, relieved when some of the tension dropped from Elias's shoulders with a nod.

"Thank you."

"Let me know if you're ready to talk about anything, yeah?" As he asked, he inched his way forward, looking him over carefully. He could see the faint outline of sharp bruises around his neck, a large scar barely healed on his bottom lip, and on top of it all large purple and blue blotches scattered his pale skin. "Elias...I'm so sorry I didn't do more to stop him."

Now it was Elias's turn to flinch at the distasteful words, shaking his head quickly. "It was my choice, please don't be-"

"No, my love," Tyson protested, softly caressing his arm, "no, I should have done more. You got hurt, I should have done more to help you. I am so incredibly sorry."

Elias was tearful at the words, leaning into his touch eagerly. "Tyson I... I missed you so bad. I felt so empty without you." His lungs tightened as Tyson got closer, his hands staying so gentle against his arms that it was jarring. Elias had to remind himself that he wasn't going to hurt him, this was Tyson, Tyson wouldn't do anything to harm him, but he couldn't help the uncomfortable anxious burning in his chest when he got so close.

"I love you, Eli." He whispered.

The look on his face alone was enough to send Elias reeling, the genuine, evident adoration made his head spin. The last time someone was telling him they loved him, the only emotion he saw on his face was some sort of sick obsession, a look that told him the "love" was only surface level. He began to openly cry, barely able to bite back his sobs.

"Y-you...you do?" He whined, suddenly not able to look at him head on. The emotions were so strong and heavy that he felt weighed down. Again, he wondered how his body was still producing tears. It was probably why Tyson had given him the water. "Really?"

"Yes, really." With that, Tyson kissed the bridge of his nose ever so gently, even when he flinched a little and closed his eyes. "Now let's get you cleaned up, huh?"

"Please."

Being nude wasn't nearly as intimidating as it had been before, being forced to put himself on display for prying eyes and watering mouths ready to grab and pet and squeeze made him shamefully accustomed to not wearing clothes. Even though Tyson could easily overpower him and do any of that to him, he only touched him when he was sure it would be alright, only looked at him when he spoke. He was a little uneasy because he couldn't tell what Tyson was thinking, if he was disgusted or put off and that's why he wasn't touching him. Or maybe he'd done something wrong and Tyson was punishing him. Or he just wasn't pretty enough. He could make himself pretty, he was getting good at that, at carrying himself the way people liked him: as an object.

He did this as he was helped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was relieved when he felt Tyson's stare fixated on him, and he forced himself to look up at him through half-hooded lids. "Thank you, Ty," he murmured, in that way that August always loved, the way that made him go soft for a split second and then hold him closely and gently. When Tyson didn't do that, he took a shaky breath and closed the space between them, grabbing his bicep to get closer.

"Do you feel better?" He grumbled. Elias's eyes fluttered closed when Tyson reached out to run his thumb along his cheek.

"I do. Thank you so much." When he was met with silence, he turned his head slightly, pressing his lips against Tyson's wrist. His whole demeanor was screaming "touch me, please touch me" but Tyson didn't move, keeping his hand against his jaw, watching, waiting. Elias could scream.  He was too used up, that's what it was. August would hardly touch him anymore either, for the same reason: because he was a used up toy, no fun anymore. And Tyson felt the same way. It killed him to know that he wouldn't ever experience the bliss of Tyson's adoring hands on him, his warm mouth murmuring sweet nothings against his skin, his name falling from his lips, ever again.

"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?" Tyson asked him, shifting a little to stroke his hair, humming when Elias pressed into his touch desperately.

"I'm so...I'm afraid that I'm useless now." He admitted. "I know that you won't use me and...and if I'm not being used I...i just want to be important. Useful."

Tyson let out a soft, seemingly disappointed sigh, one that made Elias cringe. "Is that what it was like with August?"

He nodded slowly, not even making an effort to look up at him, too afraid he would see anger or betrayal or even nothing. That's what he was really afraid of, seeing no emotion there, the same blank stare August often gave him, toward the end. "I was just a toy, and August used me for a little while but then other people...they just started taking me too, because I was made t-to be used. But I guess I messed up cause August started hiding me and no one was allowed to touch me or speak to me and I don't want that to happen again, Ty, I want to be useful and good-"

"Eli, take a breath angel," he cooed, stepping closer to him, "I'm not them. You're a human being, and I care about you a great deal, I'm not going to use you."

Don't cry, Elias thought to himself, save your tears for when you really need them. Don't fucking cry. You look so ugly when you cry. He noticed that the voice saying it wasn't his own, rather August's low grumble. He wondered if it would always be there, saying awful things in the back of his mind. Tyson pulled his hand away, leaving Elias to sink into a frigid, freezing loneliness, the feeling of being in the basement was now inside of his chest. He brought his own fingers to his throat, wrapping his hands around his slender, bruised neck to ground himself. He hated himself for admitting it, but he knew deep down he'd look so much nicer with the collar, and maybe Tyson would use him then. Or he'd at least look at him the way he was meant to be looked at, with an intrigue and a thirst that barely overshadowed the guilt of it all. He knew the look well, he saw it every time he got up the courage to look up at the people using him. The dark eyes, the shameful pink tint to cheeks. Tyson would look at him like that, if only he was wearing his collar.

"Don't do this to me," he mumbled, voice breaking just a little, "you don't know how bad I n-need...i just need you-" he cut himself off with a swallow, shaking his head. He wasn't allowed needs or wants, what was he saying? Tyson could use him or ignore him however he saw fit, why did he think he had any say in the matter? "I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't be sorry, love. Talk to me, tell me what you need."

"Nothing," he rushed, smiling through his tears, "I don't need anything. I'm perfect."

Tyson looked on the verge of arguing, ready to pry until he got something out of him, something worthy of a reaction. He knew, though, that Elias had shut himself up again, nervous to even be standing under his gaze. So he stepped away, nodding at him slowly. "Let's get you dressed, then."

Elias was thankful for the luxury of Tyson dressing him, after the whole day spent being treated far too well, too much like a person for his comfort. It was easy to slip back into the practiced doe-eyed, mindless little toy mindset as Tyson pulled his arms through his shirt, holding him steady as he slipped pants on. When Tyson stepped back to look at him, he had a fond grin on his face.

"You're so cute," he cooed, ruffling his hair playfully as he stepped away, "I missed you so much."

Elias blushed, bowing his head as a thank you. He felt cold under his stare, cooled down too quickly from the shower. He couldn't help the tremor that shook him slightly, and the second Tyson noticed, he reached out to grab his shoulders gently, pulling him against his chest. The warmth of being close to him made him weak at the knees, and Tyson tightened his grip as he keened against him. "Oh, Tyson," he whispered, "ah, you're so warm."

"Mm. I could hold you forever. You fit so perfectly in my arms." He gave him a light squeeze, listening to his breathing hitch gently.

"Tyson," he whined, trembling fingers twisting into his shirt, "ple-please touch me. I need you to touch me."

"You need it?" He repeated.

"Y-yes, Ty. I need it so bad it aches. Please." His voice was desperate, slightly fear tinted by hearing his own request. I can't have needs, he reminded himself, but this, oh this is the blood in my veins. This is the oxygen in my lungs. I will die if I can't have this. "Oh god, Tyson, please."

At that, Tyson's lips fell against his throat, causing him to tilt his head back with a small gasp. His skin was hot from Tyson's breath and it was constricting in the same comfortable way his collar was. "I love you, Elias."

Even though it was just a hushed whisper against his skin, Elias swooned, body light and airy at the words, Tyson's hands the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. "Ah...thank you.."

Tyson pulled off to look at him, a small grin on his face as he looked him over. The second he was off of him, Elias replaced Tyson's mouth on his neck with his fingers, dropping his head back down, face flushed and shoulders high. It was too much, entirely too much to have Tyson so close to him, touching him that way, and simultaneously it wasn't nearly enough.

"Anything else?" Tyson teased, leaning forwards as if to try and entice him. Elias was glued to the floor, refusing to look up at him after a breathless whine left his throat. "What is it, baby boy?"

He watched Elias melt at the words, legs shaking slightly as he stepped forward, quickly dropping to his knees in front of Tyson. He kept his arms raised in front of him in submission until Tyson took his wrists in his hands. He looked utterly broken as he peered up at him, the shower didn't help with the cuts and bruises as much as Tyson had been hoping. The bruises under his eyes seemed near permanent, and Tyson sighed heavily.

"Let me...let me make you feel good," Elias whispered, fingers reaching for the button of his jeans. Tyson's grip on his wrists was tight though, and Elias instinctively fell pliable in his grip, dropping his stretching fingers, when he realized Tyson wasn't going to let him move any more. "Wanna make myself useful."

Tyson dropped to his knees as well, keeping his grip secure on Elias as he did, trying to be at eye level. It was difficult because he was so much smaller than Tyson and he wouldn't look up at him anyways, but Tyson returned one of his hands to his own lap and coaxed him to look up with a finger just under his chin. "My love," he soothed him, "you don't even know what you're asking for. You've only been home an hour."

"But I-I don't...Ty..." His bottom lip trembled as he spoke, and now that his arm was free he once again rubbed nervously at his throat. Tyson had just started picking up on it, and all it made him think of was having to go pick up Elias from the hospital the first time, being told he'd been strangled. "P...please, Tyson. Hu-hurts."

"Look at you, Eli. You're shaking. Why don't we get you something to eat?"

"No!" He whined, looking rather afraid at his own outburst. "Tyson, I'm begging you-"

He froze when Tyson's hand replaced his own, fingers loose around his neck. "What is this, why do you keep doing that?"

Elias flinched a little at the harsh tone he used, then he relaxed into his hand. "I don't have my...uh...a collar. I'm not used to it yet, I guess."

"A collar?! Ugh, christ. Why would he..." He trailed off as he saw the sad, dejected wince pass over Elias's face. "Hey, no, it's not you, love. You did nothing wrong."

Elias nodded slowly, then straightened out his posture a little, taking a deep breath to reassure himself. "I'm sorry. I won't whine anymore."

Tyson was shocked by the quick change in demeanor, how, when Tyson's tone changed with him, Elias seemed to correct himself to not look so bothered, so ill. The way he carried himself was more thought out, like he was aware of every muscle in his body, how to present himself in a pleasant way. He stood up with a huff. "Ok, beautiful. Come on, I'll make you some food."

Elias let Tyson pull him up to his feet, then followed him to the kitchen. He was set down in a chair to watch and wait (and look pretty, don't forget to look pretty, Tyson keeps looking over at him and smiling softly but only when he remembers to be pretty). He ignored the burning need in his chest to be underneath the knife Tyson was using to cut up fresh fruit, or to be the water running over his hands as he washed the juice off. He was jealous that he couldn't be closer to him than he was, so jealous it hurt him. But he stayed in his place at the table, because it's where Tyson wanted him to be. And that's all that mattered.

[weareallfallengods]

Survival

Writing prompt:

If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?

I write for adults about adult themes with adult language. I try to tag possible triggers (but I know I'm not going to get all of them), so if violence or implied death or cussing bothers you, you'll probably want to find a different author.

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Somehow, that date came up again. Not quite sure how, but somehow, the number circled on my shitty wall calendar with the coffee splatter on it managed to be today. Again. It's been doing that for 5 years now.

At first I wanted to be a surgeon- save people's lives, make a difference, all that shit. Yeah, I was caught up in the hype for a while too. Just like everyone. Thought I'd make some ground-breaking discovery and change the world. Just like everyone. And then, at 22, I flunked out of med school. That was it. Dream over, kaput, fin.

When I opened my termination letter, it was like reading a death sentence. 10 years of prep and study down the drain. 3 years left. 3 years, and no idea what to do. No clue what I could do to save my own life after all those years learning how to save others.I drank for a solid month. I dont even remember that month now. My only memento from it is an entire skip of liquor bottles. It's a miracle I didn't die from alcohol poisoning. Not that I didn't try.

See, I was afraid. Scared, actually. Terrified would be more accurate, if I'm honest. I knew I only had 3 years left until they came for me. Unless I managed to do something extraordinary within the next 3 years, they'd come for me, and the only thing that would remain is a 2 paragraph obituary in the local paper, followed by a vacancy announcement. When you're suddenly forced to confront your own imminent demise, and see every dream, hope and aspiration you'd had evaporate, right in front of your eyes, its perfectly natural to drown that in a swimming pool of vodka.

But then, after a month of drowning, and a week of curing a hangover that would make Satan shudder, I got angry. Like Bruce Banner angry. As I was leaving an all night diner, the notice board caught my eye. Having nothing better to do with my life, I stood there for a while just reading every single card in detail, every single lost cat, every used car, every 5k charity run. And then I saw it. And I thought, "You know what? Fuck it, why not. I've spent all this time trying to do one thing that I've never actually done just whatever I feel like, had hobbies, anything really. Why the fuck not."

And that's how I ended up 2 days later in some shity warehouse district, rolling around on a mat with some dude I didnt even know, sweating and swearing profusely and having the time of my life. "Sasha's Self Defense" it said on the small, weathered and rusted sign on the brick wall out front, next to a door that looked like it had been transported straight from the proverbial gulag.

I'd naively thought this was going to be one of those Karate Kid knock offs for some reason when I first arrived. Sasha soon disabused me of that notion. In fact, when he saw I'd brought a new gi in a duffle bag, he laughed so hard he had to slap his ass down on a rickety folding chair just to keep breathing. Once he calmed his mirth at my expense, he let me know in a no-nonsense, 'I'm an old-timer and seen some shit in my day' heavily accented tone that this would be a class that focused on survival at all costs. "No bullshit wax on-wax off," were his exact words I believe.

And boy was he right. When I told him I'd set aside my year's tuition for lesson payments, well, wouldn't you know it, I became his most prized pupil; I quickly learned this was not a good thing. It meant 14 hours a day of the most humiliatingly punishing activity ever dreamed up by Moscow's Finest. I couldnt even move the morning after my first day. But somehow I limped my battered frame down to the bus stop and was only an hour late. Ha, only. Sasha seemed to take it as a personal insult. The only thing he hated less than sloppiness was tardiness it seemed. Apparently the 10th Circle of Hell was reserved for those who dared be late. And he made you earn your way out of that circle.

His only saving grace was fairness. If I had to suffer, at least I wasnt alone. Well, at first anyway. The few other students that suffered his wrath along side me doing slavic folk dances with wrist and ankle weights very quickly learned that this wasn't the type of class they had thought it was and soon I was alone with Sasha.

On the days I did well, I got treated to pierogies. Oh man, I lived for those pierogies. They were made by angels and served by someone I can only describe as if Jesus came back as a woman. Who was Russian. And spoke even less english than Sasha, if that was possible. His sister was as completely opposite to that sadistic maniac as it was possible to be and still be a human being. Where he was loud, she was soft. Where he was tough, she was gentle. Where he was strict, she was generous, even indulgent. Blonde to his brunette. Slim to his barrel chest. Cousin by marriage, I think they said. Well, relatives of some kind anyway. And she was the only one who could make him laugh. And when he laughed, the whole block knew! He was just that loud, that boisterous, with everything he did.

But I loved his little Anya. Just like everyone. But like in a wholesome, mom-ish kind of way. I loved her because I got to sit for an hour when she was around. Because she"d always tuck a to-go container of pierogies into my bag. Because she'd chide Sasha for pushing me too hard. In short, she was an angel.

But I have to hand it Sasha- in 4 months, he took a scrawny bookworm into someone who could pose for Men's Health. In 6 months, I could beat Ivan, his partner, in 5/10 sparring matches. In 7 months, I ran a marathon. In 9, he had me enter a triathalon. And I made it into the top 50 out of 500 entrants. Not too bad if I say so myself. In 12 months, I was beating Ivan almost every time.

And that's when the other Ivan showed up. After a year, Sasha decided it was time I learned weaponry. After all, no real fight was fair, he said. And Ivan (another cousin? Sasha had one heck of an extended family) instructed me on everything from broken beer bottles, to knives and pool cues. And my medical training paid off, because more often than not, I was the one stitching myself up if training got a little rough that day.

Eventually, I moved into the gym. Not sure how it happened, but I think I just got too tired to leave one day and never really left. Sasha didnt seem to mind since it meant I wasnt ever late again. Plus the coffee he imported was the best thing ever. Like it was so good that's probably the Extraordinary Thing he did to live as long as he had.

The days just melted together, into one long symphony of beautiful exhaustion and physical torment, as I poured myself into the first activity I could remember doing purely because I wanted to, something that numbed the dread of the finality of my life expectancy.

But then one day, one specific day, the one I'd been dreading in the back of my mind for a year came around.

They found me.

I guess they were a little slow in finding me, not surprising since I'd basically just disappeared from my old life, no forwarding address type thing. It wasnt intentional, it just sort of happened, what with me diving head first into something purely for me, without the thought of doing it for someone else. But they found me. Just like they find everybody.

See, it doesnt matter if you try to run, if you move, or change your name. They always find you eventually. I just hadn't thought about it in a long while. That year was the first time since I was probably 14 that I'm hadn't thought about the Gardeners. I guess that's why it surprised me so much.

Yeah, Gardeners. I dont know who came up with the name, in guess some misguided attempt at a positive PR spin bullshit to pass off squads of government assassins who's only job was to track down the NCs of the world and eliminate them. Sorry, NCs- Non-Contributors; the people who hit their expiration date without doing something noteworthy, something that was deemed to "advance or bolster the Human Condition" to borrow a phrase from the civics classes we had to take every fucking year of school. A cutesy sounding name that was supposed to make the government sound like a benevolent old couple pulling weeds from their garden of humanity. The worst lies always sound the sweetest, dont they?

And I was now 25.

It happened a few weeks after my birthday. Just another routine day for me, going for a light 5k run after my soak in a mineral bath. Light rain, most of the streetlights out, the few lights on in the warehouse district reflected beautifully off the streets. That's why I ran at night, all the colors changed that normally bleak neighborhood into something beautiful. It was just one little thing to balance out the harshness of reality, and I reveled in it.

I don't actually remember what happened exactly. I do recall seeing a suspiciously conspicuous homeless guy huddled under a loading dock awning, and then just a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. I think it happened really quickly; at least that's what Sasha said the next morning as he was making arrangements for me to visit another cousin of his "back in the old country". It could have been. God, after seeing the bodies around me in the aftermath, I hope, for their sake, that it was fast. 5 bodies. All still. I still remember my breath turning to blue fog, blurring the details of them. Helping me to be able to pretend I didn't see the blood mixing with the rain and oil, spreading out over the concrete like a macabre inversion of the cloudy sky above.

I'm glad they wore masks. It's bad enough having that scene burned into my brain forever, without specific people's faces being etched there as well. I'm glad I dont see their faces in my mind every time I close my eyes. I just wish I could still enjoy the rain. They managed to take that from me, even if I'm still breathing, so I guess they didnt completely fail. They just killed a part of my soul instead. But hey, there's plenty of people that don't like the rain, right? But I bet they don't smell blood when it does though.

And that was pretty much it. No sirens, no manhunt, nothing. Before I could process what was happening, I was on a bus, headed for "the old country", which, as near as I could tell, looked an awful lot like Pittsburg. Sasha's 'cousin' met me at the bus depot there, a man of very few words. Not as loud as his cousin, Zhena tended to communicate with looks, grunts and shrugs mostly. Same work ethic though.

And then the cycle repeated- 14 months this time before they caught up with me. Too bad that Zhena got caught up in it, he was a great guy. He and I didn't really become close or buddies or anything, but it still hurt to see what happened to him. To what was left of him anyway. The Gardeners definitely were trying to send a message with that. To quote an old wise man, "I didnt want to know, but now I do, and I'm telling you, you dont want to know." And that's coming from someone who was training to become a surgeon, so just trust me on this one.

This time, they were waiting for me. I think they'd planned on Zhena being enough of a distraction that they'd be able to take me out easily, but since since I woke up the next day on the floor of the sparring ring in a too large pool of blood that wasnt my own, I'd say they failed. The difference this time was I was on my own. No 'cousins' to call in favors from. No family I could call because I didnt want them getting a visit from the Gardeners either. I was alone this time.

Weirdly, I was actually OK with that. I'd been surrounded by family, teachers, advisors, tutors for so long that solitude was actually kind of nice. I could hear myself think my own thoughts for the first time in what seemed like forever.

I'm not ashamed to say that I took what little of value there was from Zhena's gym (I knew him well enough to know that Sasha was his only family) so that I could get a seedy hotel for a while. I did at least have the decency to let Sasha know, and that that would be the last he ever heard from me, to keep him out of trouble. Bad enough that 10 people were already dead, I didn't want Sasha or Anya's name added to that list because of me.

And so I vanished. Completely. Sure I travelled, kept studying and training like I had been, but never staying longer than a few months, never using the same name, copying other random people's habits and patterns so I didnt have one of my own for them to track down. Yeah it was cliche, but hey, I figured my dad watching all those spy flicks when I was young had to be good for something, right?

Sometimes I was a baker, sometimes a delivery driver, even a dock hand. Whatever it took to make a buck so I could eat.

I got really good at other things too. Like disposing of bodies. Not really a skill I ever thought I'd want or need, but Necessity is a harsh and demanding teacher. Sadly, my skill as a surgeon came in handy- bodies are easier to get rid of when they're in smaller pieces. And people are easier to turn into bodies when you know how they're put together intimately. Not what I had in mind for my life, but since it was the choice between this or dying, well, I guess I can put up with it.

I suppose that catches us all up to the present, more or less. OK yeah theres a lot that's gone down between Pittsburg and now, but it was all pretty much the same: lather, rinse, repeat. Literally sometimes. Those were the days it felt like there wasnt enough soap in the world to get all the blood off.

So here I am, I'm my single room in Kandahar, staring at the date that had somehow come up again. Every year, they send someone. Usually a team. And I survive. No matter how they come at me, or when or how many. I survive.

And I'm sitting here, staring at the calendar, steaming cup of espresso, just staring, as a light breeze fluttered the corner of the calendar page, sending the orchids dancing in the vase next to it. All I could think is, "How? How does this keep happening? I'm not even supposed to be here, not supposed to be alive."

As I raised my cup of espresso, something slid under my door. "OK that's weird," I said aloud as I stood.

The chair made an ungodly screech as I pushed it back and made my way over to where a small, cream colored envelope sat on the floor, a couple inches from the bottom of the door. It was heavy for it's size, but not because anything was in it, just the paper was that thick. Probably hand-made. It's odd the little things you notice in times of stress. Heavy, rough paper, no postmark, nothing written on the outside, just the flap tucked in, not even sealed. Reminded me of how my mother used to give out birthday cards. I always thought that was a little weird, but it was just one of her quirks that made her even more endearing to everyone.

I sat down a little heavier than I had planned and felt the chair crack a little. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded in half; I was right- handmade paper. But that wasnt important, what was important was the heavy, blocky hand-written message it contained.

"We've been looking for you for a long time. It has come to my attention that you may have something unique to contribute after all. We may have been too hasty in judging your Ability to be a Contributor. I believe you do actually have a remarkable Ability to Survive. I'd like to speak to you this afternoon in the plaza outside the Blue Mosque. I will be alone, and you can approach me, so as to allay your justifiable suspicions. I will have a silver coffee set on the table in front of me.

I believe we can help each other, if you're willing to listen to my proposition.

-Soon,

Baddar"

Well, this is interesting.

[meitanreax]

day 1

hi baby! it’s been a while! i miss you tons and i hope you’ve had a great day!! so the fucking flight was SOOOOOOOO long and i wanted to die SLDFKJSF you know the rest of the story with the annoying flight and the dummy guy!!! so we arrived at the wrong hotel...cuz of my dad.......im ...LOL

and im really tired! i think i updated you on most of the things that happened today~~ but ill update this as i go along! here are some photos of the hOTEL that we thought we were supposed to GO TO SKJLFDK  

!!!

this is the hotel we are staying at now (down below) !!! :D it’s really fancy..when we walked in there was a string quartet and then there was some fancy mini jungle behind the glass..and there were a bunch of floors (one just for the gym, jacuzzi, etc, and a bar!! they give complimentary breakfast that’s buffet :3 and im really excited about it!!!) they have a pool too!! and it really is five star!! ^.^ ill post more pictures tomorrow for the day 2 update hehe

ill go around more and take more pics when i go out later ^.^ 

...so i went to go get bonchon like i said!! then we went to a mall!!! nothing much at the mall but i got aloe O: and then aloe gel!! we can use it when i get back!!! yay for eczema or dry skin together HAHA

random update but - idk like- im really exhausted and ive been getting really homesick as of lately ;w; i cant seem to have a conversation with mymom without college/med school/dent school being brought up, and how i literally get no space from her and how nosy she is and how she always butts in (esp when we were calling) makes me so T_T ive been having kinda a tough time today and im just trying to countdown the days that go by!!! i scheduled everything in my calendar so its easier to set in stone and try to pace myself day by day;; i really miss you bebu!! i miss you a whole lots but i know when we reunite itll all be worth it in the end ;w;

anyways! i got tea at the sky lounge in the hotel - i got chamomile and it was super fancy with a strainer and stuff! the night view was especially pretty!! this area of manila is ~~ok~~!! when i went to the tea lounge, i went w my mom but u know how that always ends...but regardless, the tea was great!! even tho it looks a lil bit like pee HAHA

on a lighter note, we got our commission rough sketch!!! it’s super cute ;_; LMK IF U WANT ANYTHING CHANGED BUT IM REALLY HAPPY WITH IT AHH im so glad it came through!! yayayay I HOPE U LIKE IT SO FAR!!!

also i realized that jetstreams exist, and it’s easier to fly eastward rather than westward, so........MY FLIGHT FROM seoul -> lax should be considerably shorter!! apparently its ~10.5-11 hours then! heheh

anyways i love you so much bebu! i really hope you sleep well and you are ready for your flight tomorrow! buny misses u!! and i miss u much much more. i love you forever baby!!! i hope to see you soon and i know i will! just 13 more days!!! WE GOT THIS!!! hopefully the days will go by faster ^_^ just trying to get through the end of this week and just bs the rest of next week!! hehe i loveeee you baby! i hope you have a great day! im sorry the time difference makes it really difficult but we can do it!! i love you sm!!! i miss u!!!!! i wish i could hug u!!!!!! ill update you with more tomorrow!! buny says hi too!

[te-amo-ergo-amo]

How Did I Let This Happen.

Overall things started out great, things were just easy. It flowed like water and I had never felt this way about another person. I was deeply and fully in love. I cant lie, it was terrifying to open myself up to another person like that but it felt right and i trusted him with my life, my heart and my soul. Even throughout the years i can say without any doubt that there were some amazing times and I wouldn’t give them up for the world.I can’t say that it started recently or even immediately. It did start in short bursts soon after the beginning. 
Making fun of me to others- specifically other women that he dated or was “interested” in. 
Telling me i was overreacting or being too sensitive, responding and talking to me in condescending tones(which honestly he does to everyone,) and blaming me for pretty much everything. Then we got pregnant and financially we couldn’t do it- we made probably one of the hardest decisions in our lives to terminate. That was costly on all sides- it put me a bit deeper with my depression. It may have made him angrier… I’m not sure- I know he was sad but we haven’t really spoken of it. 
He made some promises to help me out while I heal- those were empty. I should have realized then but I was in love. I thought we were in love and honestly all of the good things far out weighed that. Actually I would still say the same thing now. However, at that point he just got meaner.
Everything is always things that I have done, or my issues that I can’t work out, I’m being ridiculous. That was January. A few months later he would have his first manic episode. That morning he had screamed in my face about getting in his way(he was staring at the iced tea mix) and shoved me and told me to get out and not come back. 
This is the first and last time he ever touched me as even I knew- something was very wrong. I stayed, he was in the hospital, then his parents house and then back home in what was pretty much a chemical straight jacket. It was awful and I haven’t a clue how it was for him but it was definitely and obviously worse. He had his moments but overall we could talk things out now as we made the decision that if we were getting defensive then we stop- if it’s important we would come back to it later. This actually worked out quite well most of the time for many years. I moved in. A few months later he proposed- something I was not entirely expecting but I was so in love and could see myself spending the rest of my life with him. It was one of the happiest days of my life. 
However, he started leaving the house randomly and after I had had enough and asked about it- “I’m out fucking prettier women” my heart sank. I figured this was just the ending part of his episode and he didn’t mean it and hopefully it would stop- hopefully he was using protection or maybe it wasn’t true at all. Then he stopped seeing his doctor and soon after stopped taking his meds. To where we go back to him talking inappropriately about me to others. He started getting annoyed with me often and so on. It was not entirely a fun time had by me.
He lost his job at the end of the year. Yet he was still making more than me with his unemployment which he found amusing. Kind of funny/kind of sad. I tried to make jokes about it as well but I felt like a failure- I mean I loooved my job but the pay was crap. I had some serious goals though through them and honestly speaking they would have been attainable. 
A few months later he had his second and so far last manic episode. He was committed and his last comment to me before going in after I agreed that he should stay and that I was sorry- “you’re gonna be sorry” 
Can’t say he was wrong.
Regardless, they found meds that worked for him and he found a great doctor. He never was into therapy as he “had nothing to say.” Then the sleeping around started going on again. Coming home smelling of other women, nail marks on his back… i cant even say that this time it may not have been real. Again, I stayed and said nothing- to any one. 
Things were kind of getting back to normal, he had some freelance work and that became reasonably steady for a while. We got married in July and honestly that was the best day of my life… minus our first kiss. Not sure how I failed to mention that one. That kiss was beyond amazing. It’s like the kiss that books and movies talk about. Where you feel like they are kissing you as though you are the only good thing in the world/ that you have all the good air. We share the same feeling about that kiss.
Damn though- I will always remember that, I would go back to that moment in time in a heartbeat. 
Things were good. We had our ups and downs like most. He was getting more depressed about not having full time work. The freelance was still coming though. We had great holidays and other memories fill in the rest of the times. Every once in a while he would have a moment where I would do something wrong and “just keep doing these things to set him off, didn’t I care what I was doing” and he started an online thing with someone I knew - and she was ok with it. He even started to make plans to go see her. I lost it. I gave him an ultimatum which isn’t something I would do but I did and it was over. 
We continued our life together he would have a moment every now and then but I either brushed it off or walked away and cried on my own. On occasion he would apologize yet somehow turn it around to make it me feel bad about it. Obviously I would forgive him. Love. 
We had a big wedding the year after for family and friends. It snowed and he was by far the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. My husband is a hottie and I do adore him.
That following year was a big struggle for us, financially, emotionally and physically. I was applying for other jobs and second jobs that just wouldn’t pull through. He was having a hard time finding freelance work and finding something full time seemed impossible. He got more depressed, we both gained weight. I would cry after he fell asleep as I didn’t want him to know how much it was effecting me as I was trying to be strong for the two of us. 
In November we decided that he would start applying elsewhere- out of state. A few seemed like great matches but there would be some snag and then early within the new year he found a contract in Austin that he was stoked about. 
I have always been able to take care of myself financially, yes there have been some hard times but my credit was awesome and my bills were always paid and on time. 
I would not have a full time job when I got down there. This scared the hell out of me. He told me not to worry about it and that he would take care of me. I’m not sure how or why I agreed to this- yes we were married but I don’t know. I think I’ve always just had money things thrown in my face and was nervous of that happening again.
He stayed with some of our friends and loved his position, I stayed back to fix up the house so we could sell it and to pack everything up. I was so happy for him.
It was lonely as hell and part of me was a bit aggravated that I was left behind which honestly made zero sense. Then my anxiety started to kick- what if he felt lonely? What if he turned to someone else? Then the thing I dreaded hearing “he felt neglected” I was trying to finish up everything and I was still working and at night- I would drink myself to sleep. 
I offered him a free pass- open the marriage. I trusted him to tell me the truth and to be completely honest. 
I started losing weight but still felt disgusting, so he would want to skype and my brain was just like “do you really want him to see you like this?” Any time he called or text i was afraid that he would tell me to just stay in Philly, that he no longer wanted me. The joys of depression and anxiety sabotaging your life.Then I was finally able to move down to him. My anxiety was crap and I was using my phone as a crutch. All things that made him feel alone even with me there. I would stop for a bit but then he would say how I was failing at something else and I would go back. I ended up saying I went in some dates just to leave the house so I wouldn’t feel like I was failing more- that was the wrong thing to do even though I was “pestering him, being annoying, being too negative and always triggering him”
Thinking about it, I really didn’t go out much in Philly because of that and I felt bad/guilty because he was out of work and depressed. He’s my husband and we’re a team and I needed to be there for him.
So the open marriage- my worst idea in history. We had rules to be open and completely honest, no overnights, condoms were mandatory no matter what, no one on one stuff and a few others that honestly I cannot remember. 
He hopped onto sites immediately- I didn’t until I moved down here. The first person who I decided sure let’s get this over with and see how it goes was a disaster. It was embarrassing and I lied about it twice. I had changed my mind and the guy was not into that, fortunately he was so excited by that he came before he was even near me let alone in me. He decided to go for a second try and my brain finally clicked and the shock wore off enough to get him the fuck out of my home. What do you tell your husband? Would he believe you- I mean I would hope so. I felt shameful. 
I should have told him the whole thing and ended everything right there but I didn’t and that was stupid and inconsiderate. I will regret that along with many other things for the rest of my life. 
Ended up going on a few dates and we mainly had people together. Apparently because I was talking to more people he was upset( yet said if it was the other way around it wouldn’t have been an issue for him) he wanted to close the open marriage but honestly I was afraid that he wouldn’t stop and continue behind my back- awful of me and obviously with that we should have stopped it. Yet again my fail. It continued he found a girlfriend he begged to stop but I didn’t see that happening with her. He had been making fun of me and humiliated me in front of her and with her. I was sort of seeing someone and talking with someone else but I just wasn’t there. 
However, slowly he started taking away the rules and went away with her, was ok with him doing overnights. Then he stopped using condoms(“because they kept on breaking”) and he started lying and saying awful things about me to her. He bought her a necklace that matched my engagement ring- that hurt, still hurts because of what it is. My depression and anxiety got worse and I found out he gave me three cancer causing strains of hpv. “He did this to get my attention so I would stop fucking other people and get back at me because this was all my fault.” I found out because i went through their messages, i am NOT proud of this. I still feel like shit because of it. I just felt off and I apparently was right to. My question is - how was he doing this to get my attention if he was doing it behind my back? He says he would have told me but thinking about it now… that sounds off.
I ended things on my side, i was still hanging out as friends with one of the guys i had dated but that’s it. About a month later I said I wanted to end it, he agreed and broke up with Amy about a month or so later. For someone who was so eager to end this, why did it take hi so long to end it on his side? Was he just trying to get back at me? Obviously i just thought the worst- I’m an idiot. 
During that time he got upset with me a few times- enough so that I left the house and he told me not to come back. 
Yet, then he would say he overreacted and I’m the best thing that ever happened to him and he can’t live without me and there was nothing i could do to make him leave me. 
He had a major rage moment in August that started with him wanting to quit his job because they weren’t listening and it was so stressful(it was awful to watch and I felt terrible for him and honestly he was right) after I helped to fix it(by talking to his coworker/friend) he was good for a week then the atomic blast landed in my lap- because “I’m a selfish fucking bitch and I’ve changed and he doesn’t like the way I love him” add in all of the past things that he will always and forever bring up when he is mad and I was back at Our friend’s house for a few days- the whole thing lasted about a week and was the longest rage moment towards me that we have been through. I ended up getting a crap job to make him happy and help out more. I should have done this instead of watching my nephew but he told me not to- I should have done it anyway.
He had a moment in November and canceled thanksgiving that we were preparing for everyone, a day later he ended up changing his mind and apologizing.
At this time I am now weaning off of my old depression medication, which is terrible timing. So we have thanksgiving night- his friend who I thought didn’t like me as he only talks to her when he’s mad at me used the n-bomb in my home… I used a flat stern tone and told her by no means is that ok and she wasn’t to use it here again- I didn’t want an explanation just don’t say it. 
Because of that “she could no longer be friends with him because of me” 
He didn’t talk to me for the entire weekend. I had passed out in the bathroom and was there for hours, I suppose he didn’t hear me fall but waking and realizing I was alone and … well yeah that. 
When he finally started talking to me he said he was sad to lose his “only” friend here but he would pick me because I’m his wife. The following day he realized none of it was my fault. - My brain is still hurt from him having to decide whether to pick me over someone he has only known for a year. I honestly think that is a crap friend. My opinion and I would feel the same if it was a guy or girl. He keeps saying she is gay and now married so I have nothing to worry about. I was never “worried” I just thought/think she’s toxic. Perhaps I’m wrong and because of what he has told her that is why? In which case, she does deserve a second chance and if she means that much to him as a friend then i need to give he the benefit of the doubt.
December- I do something else to upset him because “I will never learn and don’t want to change because I don’t care” He cancels Christmas and while I’m at work throws all of my belongings into the guest room along with a note that said I’ve ruined his life. I’m back at our friend’s house again. I still have pictures I wish I never took them so maybe I could forget. 
The next day he texts me we talk about everything and he puts everything back before I got home. I’m once again the greatest thing in his life and I just need to be careful not to trigger him. 
Things were good until he went to Cambridge for work- I used the card he told me to to pay for some things and became the worst human in earth and left him with no money. As after i had already used the card and told him, he found out that’s his company didn’t not set up the hotel correctly and he needed to pay out of pocket but they didn’t take the credit card that he brought. I transferred money into the account to fix it but he was still livid- he apologized the next day and said he was sorry for being an asshole- he’s just stressed.(stressed is a serious understatement as he busts his ass every damn day. Work, school freelance- to make our life better. So I feel incredibly fucking awful when I set him off and I certainly don’t do it on purpose- who would)
We were good/great for a bit longer until he went to Lisbon in March. He was on his way home and I wasn’t feeling well(later finding out because I had forgotten to take my meds) So the other guy came out and I left the house before he even got home which made him angrier. 
We talked and he finally realized that “we” have both been walking on eggshells and not communicating like we use to. - We did communicate well in Philly even with his moments, he was more willing to hear me out after and have a rational conversation. 
He started mentioning the other guy more and has now told me his name. I’m glad that he feels comfortable and safe enough to do so- in which case I will leave it at that.
We were good until this month where the rage moment lasted over a week and he threatened to divorce me again. He thinks I have tried to sabotage him to his doctor which is very much NOT true and something I would never do. His parents don’t believe me- why would they, he is so convincing that even I normally believe that I am an awful human being. He wanted to just sell the house and split whatever was left, as long as I wasn’t greedy with what I wanted from the house he wouldn’t get lawyers involved.
He got upset a bit over a week ago because I came home excited from class and he was in the office with the door closed talking quietly. I knocked- a few moments later he opened the door annoyed- his coworker from England was on a video Skype “talking about work” 
I thought he was doing school work so I asked who it was as she was glaring at me. Apparently my tone was bad and I have no right to ask such questions. As she smirked and rolled her eyes at me- no offense women do not do this to each other unless something is off. 
He wasn’t talking about work. I hate being lied to. But “she has a boyfriend and is across the ocean” so I have nothing to worry about. - He doesn’t work with he office door closed- he just started doing that that week. Not sure why as we don’t share an office anymore. Apparently it’s because I’m annoying and he wants to get away from me.
We had a huge long talk last night where once again everything is my fault and I’m selfish because I make it all about me and try to explain things and refuse to let him have feelings. 
So I’m not bringing up anything again. I told him I wouldn’t- but I’m losing my best friend and the guy I love has been treating me like garbage. Yet it’s my fault because I fucked up and never do anything right. He wants a divorce- yet changed it to just separating and him getting an apartment for a couple months to where he can go out with another woman if he wants- so he doesn’t feel alone. Do you know how that feels? To know as a wife you have failed or at least been told repeatedly that you fail- that you aren’t trying- that you don’t want to try. Yet if someone isn’t willing to forgive you even though they said they did- is that not setting you up to fail? **So I have come to find out that he’s been cheating on me for months, possibly since March if not earlier? They had a plan set to have her come to the city and he had a hotel. He wanted to see if it was a real connection…I want to die. tbc-

[weareallfallengods]

Reposting because I'm a disaster and don't know how to pin posts.

Survival

Inspiration: If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?

I write for adults about adult themes with adult language. I try to tag possible triggers (but I know I'm not going to get all of them), so if violence or implied death or cussing bothers you, you'll probably want to find a different author.

********************************************

Somehow, that date came up again. Not quite sure how, but somehow, the number circled on my shitty wall calendar with the coffee splatter on it managed to be today. Again. It's been doing that for 5 years now.

At first I wanted to be a surgeon- save people's lives, make a difference, all that shit. Yeah, I was caught up in the hype for a while too. Just like everyone. Thought I'd make some ground-breaking discovery and change the world. Just like everyone. And then, at 22, I flunked out of med school. That was it. Dream over, kaput, fin.

When I opened my termination letter, it was like reading a death sentence. 10 years of prep and study down the drain. 3 years left. 3 years, and no idea what to do. No clue what I could do to save my own life after all those years learning how to save others.I drank for a solid month. I dont even remember that month now. My only memento from it is an entire skip of liquor bottles. It's a miracle I didn't die from alcohol poisoning. Not that I didn't try.

See, I was afraid. Scared, actually. Terrified would be more accurate, if I'm honest. I knew I only had 3 years left until they came for me. Unless I managed to do something extraordinary within the next 3 years, they'd come for me, and the only thing that would remain is a 2 paragraph obituary in the local paper, followed by a vacancy announcement. When you're suddenly forced to confront your own imminent demise, and see every dream, hope and aspiration you'd had evaporate, right in front of your eyes, its perfectly natural to drown that in a swimming pool of vodka.

But then, after a month of drowning, and a week of curing a hangover that would make Satan shudder, I got angry. Like Bruce Banner angry. As I was leaving an all night diner, the notice board caught my eye. Having nothing better to do with my life, I stood there for a while just reading every single card in detail, every single lost cat, every used car, every 5k charity run. And then I saw it. And I thought, "You know what? Fuck it, why not. I've spent all this time trying to do one thing that I've never actually done just whatever I feel like, had hobbies, anything really. Why the fuck not."

And that's how I ended up 2 days later in some shity warehouse district, rolling around on a mat with some dude I didnt even know, sweating and swearing profusely and having the time of my life. "Sasha's Self Defense" it said on the small, weathered and rusted sign on the brick wall out front, next to a door that looked like it had been transported straight from the proverbial gulag.

I'd naively thought this was going to be one of those Karate Kid knock offs for some reason when I first arrived. Sasha soon disabused me of that notion. In fact, when he saw I'd brought a new gi in a duffle bag, he laughed so hard he had to slap his ass down on a rickety folding chair just to keep breathing. Once he calmed his mirth at my expense, he let me know in a no-nonsense, 'I'm an old-timer and seen some shit in my day' heavily accented tone that this would be a class that focused on survival at all costs. "No bullshit wax on-wax off," were his exact words I believe.

And boy was he right. When I told him I'd set aside my year's tuition for lesson payments, well, wouldn't you know it, I became his most prized pupil; I quickly learned this was not a good thing. It meant 14 hours a day of the most humiliatingly punishing activity ever dreamed up by Moscow's Finest. I couldnt even move the morning after my first day. But somehow I limped my battered frame down to the bus stop and was only an hour late. Ha, only. Sasha seemed to take it as a personal insult. The only thing he hated less than sloppiness was tardiness it seemed. Apparently the 10th Circle of Hell was reserved for those who dared be late. And he made you earn your way out of that circle.

His only saving grace was fairness. If I had to suffer, at least I wasnt alone. Well, at first anyway. The few other students that suffered his wrath along side me doing slavic folk dances with wrist and ankle weights very quickly learned that this wasn't the type of class they had thought it was and soon I was alone with Sasha.

On the days I did well, I got treated to pierogies. Oh man, I lived for those pierogies. They were made by angels and served by someone I can only describe as if Jesus came back as a woman. Who was Russian. And spoke even less english than Sasha, if that was possible. His sister was as completely opposite to that sadistic maniac as it was possible to be and still be a human being. Where he was loud, she was soft. Where he was tough, she was gentle. Where he was strict, she was generous, even indulgent. Blonde to his brunette. Slim to his barrel chest. Cousin by marriage, I think they said. Well, relatives of some kind anyway. And she was the only one who could make him laugh. And when he laughed, the whole block knew! He was just that loud, that boisterous, with everything he did.

But I loved his little Anya. Just like everyone. But like in a wholesome, mom-ish kind of way. I loved her because I got to sit for an hour when she was around. Because she"d always tuck a to-go container of pierogies into my bag. Because she'd chide Sasha for pushing me too hard. In short, she was an angel.

But I have to hand it Sasha- in 4 months, he took a scrawny bookworm into someone who could pose for Men's Health. In 6 months, I could beat Ivan, his partner, in 5/10 sparring matches. In 7 months, I ran a marathon. In 9, he had me enter a triathalon. And I made it into the top 50 out of 500 entrants. Not too bad if I say so myself. In 12 months, I was beating Ivan almost every time.

And that's when the other Ivan showed up. After a year, Sasha decided it was time I learned weaponry. After all, no real fight was fair, he said. And Ivan (another cousin? Sasha had one heck of an extended family) instructed me on everything from broken beer bottles, to knives and pool cues. And my medical training paid off, because more often than not, I was the one stitching myself up if training got a little rough that day.

Eventually, I moved into the gym. Not sure how it happened, but I think I just got too tired to leave one day and never really left. Sasha didnt seem to mind since it meant I wasnt ever late again. Plus the coffee he imported was the best thing ever. Like it was so good that's probably the Extraordinary Thing he did to live as long as he had.

The days just melted together, into one long symphony of beautiful exhaustion and physical torment, as I poured myself into the first activity I could remember doing purely because I wanted to, something that numbed the dread of the finality of my life expectancy.

But then one day, one specific day, the one I'd been dreading in the back of my mind for a year came around.

They found me.

I guess they were a little slow in finding me, not surprising since I'd basically just disappeared from my old life, no forwarding address type thing. It wasnt intentional, it just sort of happened, what with me diving head first into something purely for me, without the thought of doing it for someone else. But they found me. Just like they find everybody.

See, it doesnt matter if you try to run, if you move, or change your name. They always find you eventually. I just hadn't thought about it in a long while. That year was the first time since I was probably 14 that I'm hadn't thought about the Gardeners. I guess that's why it surprised me so much.

Yeah, Gardeners. I dont know who came up with the name, in guess some misguided attempt at a positive PR spin bullshit to pass off squads of government assassins who's only job was to track down the NCs of the world and eliminate them. Sorry, NCs- Non-Contributors; the people who hit their expiration date without doing something noteworthy, something that was deemed to "advance or bolster the Human Condition" to borrow a phrase from the civics classes we had to take every fucking year of school. A cutesy sounding name that was supposed to make the government sound like a benevolent old couple pulling weeds from their garden of humanity. The worst lies always sound the sweetest, dont they?

And I was now 25.

It happened a few weeks after my birthday. Just another routine day for me, going for a light 5k run after my soak in a mineral bath. Light rain, most of the streetlights out, the few lights on in the warehouse district reflected beautifully off the streets. That's why I ran at night, all the colors changed that normally bleak neighborhood into something beautiful. It was just one little thing to balance out the harshness of reality, and I reveled in it.

I don't actually remember what happened exactly. I do recall seeing a suspiciously conspicuous homeless guy huddled under a loading dock awning, and then just a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. I think it happened really quickly; at least that's what Sasha said the next morning as he was making arrangements for me to visit another cousin of his "back in the old country". It could have been. God, after seeing the bodies around me in the aftermath, I hope, for their sake, that it was fast. 5 bodies. All still. I still remember my breath turning to blue fog, blurring the details of them. Helping me to be able to pretend I didn't see the blood mixing with the rain and oil, spreading out over the concrete like a macabre inversion of the cloudy sky above.

I'm glad they wore masks. It's bad enough having that scene burned into my brain forever, without specific people's faces being etched there as well. I'm glad I dont see their faces in my mind every time I close my eyes. I just wish I could still enjoy the rain. They managed to take that from me, even if I'm still breathing, so I guess they didnt completely fail. They just killed a part of my soul instead. But hey, there's plenty of people that don't like the rain, right? But I bet they don't smell blood when it does though.

And that was pretty much it. No sirens, no manhunt, nothing. Before I could process what was happening, I was on a bus, headed for "the old country", which, as near as I could tell, looked an awful lot like Pittsburg. Sasha's 'cousin' met me at the bus depot there, a man of very few words. Not as loud as his cousin, Zhena tended to communicate with looks, grunts and shrugs mostly. Same work ethic though.

And then the cycle repeated- 14 months this time before they caught up with me. Too bad that Zhena got caught up in it, he was a great guy. He and I didn't really become close or buddies or anything, but it still hurt to see what happened to him. To what was left of him anyway. The Gardeners definitely were trying to send a message with that. To quote an old wise man, "I didnt want to know, but now I do, and I'm telling you, you dont want to know." And that's coming from someone who was training to become a surgeon, so just trust me on this one.

This time, they were waiting for me. I think they'd planned on Zhena being enough of a distraction that they'd be able to take me out easily, but since since I woke up the next day on the floor of the sparring ring in a too large pool of blood that wasnt my own, I'd say they failed. The difference this time was I was on my own. No 'cousins' to call in favors from. No family I could call because I didnt want them getting a visit from the Gardeners either. I was alone this time.

Weirdly, I was actually OK with that. I'd been surrounded by family, teachers, advisors, tutors for so long that solitude was actually kind of nice. I could hear myself think my own thoughts for the first time in what seemed like forever.

I'm not ashamed to say that I took what little of value there was from Zhena's gym (I knew him well enough to know that Sasha was his only family) so that I could get a seedy hotel for a while. I did at least have the decency to let Sasha know, and that that would be the last he ever heard from me, to keep him out of trouble. Bad enough that 10 people were already dead, I didn't want Sasha or Anya's name added to that list because of me.

And so I vanished. Completely. Sure I travelled, kept studying and training like I had been, but never staying longer than a few months, never using the same name, copying other random people's habits and patterns so I didnt have one of my own for them to track down. Yeah it was cliche, but hey, I figured my dad watching all those spy flicks when I was young had to be good for something, right?

Sometimes I was a baker, sometimes a delivery driver, even a dock hand. Whatever it took to make a buck so I could eat.

I got really good at other things too. Like disposing of bodies. Not really a skill I ever thought I'd want or need, but Necessity is a harsh and demanding teacher. Sadly, my skill as a surgeon came in handy- bodies are easier to get rid of when they're in smaller pieces. And people are easier to turn into bodies when you know how they're put together intimately. Not what I had in mind for my life, but since it was the choice between this or dying, well, I guess I can put up with it.

I suppose that catches us all up to the present, more or less. OK yeah theres a lot that's gone down between Pittsburg and now, but it was all pretty much the same: lather, rinse, repeat. Literally sometimes. Those were the days it felt like there wasnt enough soap in the world to get all the blood off.

So here I am, I'm my single room in Kandahar, staring at the date that had somehow come up again. Every year, they send someone. Usually a team. And I survive. No matter how they come at me, or when or how many. I survive.

And I'm sitting here, staring at the calendar, steaming cup of espresso, just staring, as a light breeze fluttered the corner of the calendar page, sending the orchids dancing in the vase next to it. All I could think is, "How? How does this keep happening? I'm not even supposed to be here, not supposed to be alive."

As I raised my cup of espresso, something slid under my door. "OK that's weird," I said aloud as I stood.

The chair made an ungodly screech as I pushed it back and made my way over to where a small, cream colored envelope sat on the floor, a couple inches from the bottom of the door. It was heavy for it's size, but not because anything was in it, just the paper was that thick. Probably hand-made. It's odd the little things you notice in times of stress. Heavy, rough paper, no postmark, nothing written on the outside, just the flap tucked in, not even sealed. Reminded me of how my mother used to give out birthday cards. I always thought that was a little weird, but it was just one of her quirks that made her even more endearing to everyone.

I sat down a little heavier than I had planned and felt the chair crack a little. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded in half; I was right- handmade paper. But that wasnt important, what was important was the heavy, blocky hand-written message it contained.

"We've been looking for you for a long time. It has come to my attention that you may have something unique to contribute after all. We may have been too hasty in judging your Ability to be a Contributor. I believe you do actually have a remarkable Ability to Survive. I'd like to speak to you this afternoon in the plaza outside the Blue Mosque. I will be alone, and you can approach me, so as to allay your justifiable suspicions. I will have a silver coffee set on the table in front of me.

I believe we can help each other, if you're willing to listen to my proposition.

-Soon,

Baddar"

Well, this is interesting.