𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫'𝔰 𝔇𝔬𝔩𝔩

Part 43

"I've been told

that people in the army

do more by 7:00 am

than I do

in an entire day,

but if I wake

at 6:59

and turn to you

to trace the outline of your lips

with mine,

I will have done enough

and killed no one

in the process."

- Shane Koyczan

An entire night had passed since Fyodor had locked Kate and Ivan in that room and there had been not a sound since that lock clicked into place. Ivan didn't know whether to be relieved or worried at this point. He was worried that Fyodor had left Kate's side for such a long time but he was also relieved that Fyodor's theatrics could no longer stress him.

Ivan was not one to be the centre of attention, in fact, he much preferred to be in the shadows so that he was not seen under a microscope. He often failed and made mistakes, so it only made sense that he hated to be watched by people, especially people he didn't know. Even when it came to his master, Fyodor would much rather his master only see the result of his hard work rather than the process itself. Yes, he craved praise, but he hated failure with a passion, much more than he could ever want to be praised for something.

When Fyodor first recruited Ivan, he made sure to use this to his advantage by feeding into Ivan's praise kink ever so slightly as to make sure he came back for more. Fyodor always had his way with people that he wanted, he either had meticulous planning or he was just a master manipulator-- perhaps he had to be both if he was able to complete these miracles.

Faith does not, in the realist, spring from the miracle but the miracle from faith. If the realist once believes, then he is bound by his very realism to admit the miraculous also. Ivan had learned that he had to admit the miraculousness of Fyodor, who demanded his faith, especially in situations in which he was given scraps and yet still held on. Ivan had seen his master work his miracles with others (who were disposable, as always) and always demand their full attention. Fyodor always got his way, this was a fact that Ivan knew all too well. When his master claimed that Kate Chopin would be destroyed by his hands, Ivan believed it entirely. As though he were some evil villain in an 80's cartoon on Cartoon Network, specifically, Fyodor said his plan aloud and Ivan, playing the role of the henchman, was quick to snicker and mutter, "Yeah, yeah." But now that everything had happened the way it did, Ivan knew that his master's words were empty. They were empty the very first time that Kate became deathly ill.

When Ivan took care of her those other times, he gave her a sponge bath, of course. And although this sounded like something a stereotypical creep would volunteer to do, Ivan's intentions were entirely pure. He wanted nothing but the best for Kate and even made sure to keep his eyes aimed at his hands and never even put his hands near somewhere unacceptable. Despite all these precautions taken, he had truly fallen in love with her when he washed her of her sins, the same way that Jesus washed his disciples.

When Ivan's hands meticulously scrubbed her pale and clammy skin, he first saw the scars. They were not ugly scars, in fact, Ivan thought them to be quite beautiful. They were white, quite possibly even having the slightest pink tint against her pale skin. She had them running all along her inner thighs and even some on her hips. Unfortunately, Ivan knew this type all too well because his own feet and forearms were littered with them. This was the first time Ivan felt that Kate was actually similar to him; she wasn't as grand as he made himself believe she was. These scars were proof to him that they shared the same pains, they had something in common for once and this was enough for him.

Upon the thought of this memory, Ivan smiled ever so slightly, looking down at Kate, who resembled princess Aurora during her slumber. He loved her scars more than he would admit to anyone, even himself. She was beautiful but she still had her cracks and little imperfections that made her unique. She might not have ever thought of herself as unique but he did, she was the most interesting person he had ever seen (and he knew Nikolai). Ivan couldn't control the way his eyes softened at the sight of Kate; he would do anything to keep her safe from those who would lead to more scars.

Kate's scars were something she worked hard to hide, in fact, even their placement was meticulously planned out. Kate's body was constantly on display, she was a woman, after all, so she couldn't allow anyone to see these scars.

Ivan was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice Kate's eyelids fluttering. Who knew what she was dreaming up in this sickly state.

Kate's eyes opened silently and she blinked, trying to remember exactly what happened moments before she fell unconscious. She was talking with Nikolai about... something serious, something important. What was it exactly? Was it her plan with Miroslav? Was it about Fyodor? She couldn't remember at this moment in time. It was then that the soreness of her body filled her every thought. She felt as though she had just been hit by a truck, everything hurt. She wanted to close her eyes and return to her slumber because it would be far more pleasant than what she was feeling right now.