Grandeur Defector

XIII

...
He was running as fast as he could, leaves brushing his cheeks. The birds above him called, angry for a man disturbing their peace.
He looked back, panicked and frightened.

"N-Nó an toàn ở đâu? Hướng dẫn tôi, các ngôi sao!"
'Where is it safe? Guide me, stars!'

There was no one there.
He scanned everything he could see for a sign of hope. In the distance, there was a sudden voice yelling. It sounded furious.
Eleven ran again, not looking back. He only referred to himself as his soldier name, feeling it was more deserving than an actual name even still. The chain on his side clacked against his pant leg, noisy. He slid under a mangrove root, hyperventilating as his panic grew even stronger than before. He finally stopped, pausing, and looked back. His helmet was still strapped to his head tightly.

I... I... I don't know what to do! I'm not used to thinking on my own, not without his guidance! Think Eleven, think!
Eleven's eyes stung as the blood roared louder in his ears, reality becoming twisted from adrenaline and his mind racing. He took a step back, not taking his eyes off the jungle.
Then the world was suddenly falling all around him, and before he could react, he hit water and fell unconscious. The birds of paradise didn't sing. Everything was quiet now.
There lay a tiger, bloody and bruised, at the end of a cliff side waterfall.
...

Truffles shook his head, letting another memory hit him. He sank himself into the cot again.
I want to remember my sins, not pity myself.

...
She was thrown into the pile of corpses still breathing. Violated, she had nothing on, grasping her anatomy that bled painfully. Around her were slit throats abash, heads split open, intestines and spare rib bones dragging and tangling people into the pit of hell. A tiger soldier lit a match, chucking it in. She screamed horrifically, shouting for them to have mercy on her and her child.
The General tugged at Eleven's obsidian leash. After all, it was tailored for those lesser.
The woman who screamed had no idea her child, barely able to walk, was being used by the more deprived men already for pleasure behind closed doors. Her screams cut short, and then she made no noise.
Eleven stood numb as the men cheered in victory over a small town enslaved. Eleven did not join their cries, he knew this was no victory. This was slaughter. He looked away, nauseous from the smell of rot and clumps of burning flesh that tainted the sky.
Eleven shook with fear, but said nothing.
I must obey.
...

I should have reacted, I should have saved her. Another— I want to remember why I don't deserve the peace Animalia is giving me.

...
"Mười một! Người phụ nữ này có thể được trả tiền cho."
'Eleven! This woman can be paid for.'

His bully shoved his arm roughly, pointing at a barely dressed woman. Everyone suspected Eleven found no interest in sex in general. Being only 16 at the time, he didn't feel comfortable in the slightest with providing reasons why. He always refused to force himself onto a woman, no matter how tied up she was or if she even found interest in him, and his bullies loved that they had a new weak spot to mess with him with.
The woman herself was beautiful.
What clothes she had on were silk, and she posed herself timidly to be a man's candy to the eyes. She wore red crimson with black speckles of detail along her body, outlining her figure.

He eyed her nervously, taking in the details uncomfortably. She had bright, emerald green eyes, jewels themselves. Her hair was long and uncut. Although her breasts weren't fully exposed, the undersides were; one had a purple-ish bruise—likely from a rough past client— barely visible. Eleven approached her carefully, looking up at her; he was shorter than her and everyone else.
Keep no emotion in my face. I am not man, I am nothing. I am nothing, I am not here.