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“Oh, he’s scary, this one.Let me through. Let me through.” His grating voice causes my throat to close and bile to rise in my stomach. “You’re too uptight for your own good, Aleksander. Relax a little, will you?”
He grabs my shoulder, and I stiffen. My flight mode zips through my limbs like it did the day I lost everything.
“Fuck. You don’t only look girly, but you also feel like one.” He strokes my shoulder, and even though our skin is separated by clothes, the predominant need to escape gets stronger.
“No wonder you’re a weak little thing at camp.” Matvey’s hand tightens as if to prove he has the physical superiority and is able to inflict harm if he wishes to. “Anyone ever tell you the army isn’t for weaklings?”
“I’m not a weakling,” I snarl in his stupid face, resisting the urge to knee him in the balls.
The others snicker, taunting from the background, but I can’t look away from Matvey. A maniacal grin spreads across his lips, stretching his features in a disturbing manner.
“Sounds like something a weakling would say.”
“Maybe we should check the balls situation, after all, eh, Matvey?” one of his goons says.
The dangerous nature of the situation dawns on me in a sudden flood. I fling myself forward to try to release my shoulder from Matvey’s hold, but he shoves me back against the wall so easily, I can feel the tears forming in my eyes.
I am a weakling.
It doesn’t matter how long I slave through physical activities or try to build my muscles. The truth remains, I don’t have these guys’ strength. Not only are they men, but they’ve also been in the army longer than I have.
“Aww, are you crying, boy?” Matvey shakes me. “Should I call your mama to come pick you up? Oh, sorry, you don’t have a mama, do you? Or a papa, for that matter. Poor Aleksander trying to be a man—”
His words are cut off when I grab his shoulders and raise my knee, hitting him in the nuts so hard, he’s lost for words.
And expressions, apparently, because his face is caught in a blank state for a while. All the others freeze, too, probably not believing what just happened.
His hold loosens from my shoulder, and I use the chance to free myself and slip from beneath his limp arm as he wails and groans in pain.
“You fucking…fuck… I’m going to kill you!” he screams from behind me, but I’m already running toward the exit. If I find the captain or even some other soldiers, I’ll be safe.
Note to self: Never stay alone with Matvey and his gang again. Ever.
My muscles scream with exhaustion, and the boots weigh down my escape, but I still don’t stop running.
Like back then, I know, I just know that my survival depends on how fast and far I run.
Just when the exit is within reach, I’m pulled by a firm hold on my nape, flung back, and tossed on the floor like an old rug.
The thud splashes all the way to my bones, and I groan, then grab a painful spot in my arm. Well, shit. It’s either sprained or broken.
I have no time to focus on that when a shadow falls on me. I slowly stare up to find a very pissed Matvey hovering over me, his goons close behind him.
“You really fucked up, little fuck.” He reaches for me, and before I can get away, he lifts me up with a savage grip on my jacket.
The material tears at the top, nearly revealing my chest bandage, and I dig my nails into his hand while I grab whatever I can of my jacket to keep it in place.
For the first time, I’m glad to be wearing my combat gear over my T-shirt and, therefore, won’t be fully naked, even if he rips it.
But that would put my chest bandages into question.
His palm wraps around my neck, applying enough pressure to cut off my breathing. I wheeze, but little to no air sprinkles into my lungs.
My legs flail in midair while the other soldiers taunt, laugh, and snicker. Matvey slams my back against the wall and reaches for my pants.
“Let us see those miniscule balls.”
I thrash, scratch, and scream, but only a haunting sound escapes my lips.
