Layla

Chapter 9

March 15, 1962

(9:00 pm)

"And this is why I should have locked her down below," The monster spoke up as Layla's consciousness faded back into place. "She's too much of a danger to herself to be trusted." 

Layla opened her eyes to find herself laying on the ground looking up at the night sky. The stars and the moon are not visible. She pushed herself to sit up, quickly finding herself on the cold deck of the accursed ship that she had ended upon. She was still on it. It wasn't a terrible nightmare. It wasn't some sort of hellish nightmare brought to life where her happiness was returned for a brief moment before being ripped apart by the demon Schmidt himself. 

He was there. He was there in front of her. Talking to his "friends" or god knows what he calls them, accomplices more than likely. He was shit-talking her as she regained what motor control she had over herself. 

Erik. 

She forgot about Erik. 

She looked around in a panicked state; looking for her husband as she ignored the ever-growing fear that he had been killed. That he had been kicked off the boat and drowned for her disobedience. He had been killed and it was all her fault. 

Pietro, oh dear god Pietro. She had to get to him. She had to get him off this damned boat now. Layla moved to stand up, wobbling while she did so, clearly still suffering the effects of the many alcoholic drinks she had consumed earlier. She needed to get to her son, damn any side effects she might suffer to get to him. 

Damn the consequences, damn the reality of the situation. All that mattered was her son and getting him far away from this boat and the monster who claimed to be his grandfather. He would be cold and dead before she allowed that man, that thing, anywhere near her son again. She was a weak-willed little girl no more, she was a mother on a mission. Even if it killed her, she didn't care. She just had to get her son to safety. 

"Layla," Schmidt spoke up as he noticed her trying to stand. "Do you think it's wise to try to leave us now?" 

He was mocking her. Mocking her attempts to escape just as he had done in the camps, knowing she was too big of a coward to actually risk escaping. Knowing that if she had been captured outside the camps she would have been executed for her crimes against humanity. No this was different. She was going to save her son. She was not going to be the ever-petrified little girl scared of her own shadow anymore. 

She needed to save her son. She needed to get off this damned boat. And escape to some god-forsaken city in the middle of nowhere where she never had to worry about Herr Doktor ever again. He'd never find her. He'd commit his crimes, he'd commit genocide, she didn't care. She just had to get away. She had to run away. 

"Ich brauche Pietro," Layla managed to stand, at last, finding the strength to move forward. "I need Pietro." 

Before she could take another step forward Herr Doktor himself stopped her. Grabbed her arm and sat her down on the couch she had been sitting on previously. He was forceful with her, just as he had been in the past, but this time there was something different in the way he handled her. As if he was worried that he might actually hurt her this time around... as if he actually cared. 

But he didn't care. All he cared about was hurting people. Killing people. Committing genocide apparently. 

"You'll see him in the morning, Layla," Schmidt said with mock concern for her. "He needs to sleep just like you." 

"Wo ist Erik? Was hast du mit ihm gemacht?" Layla asked as she ignored his previous statement. "Where is Erik? What did you do to him?" 

Schmidt grinned a wicked grin.