The air was frigid as Diana walked through a small Chechen village. Her newest potential asset was informing her of Chechen rebels that were under suspicion of working with American terrorists to plan large scale attacks. She had been sure of his ability to give her actionable intelligence but, still she walked with wide ears and open eyes for enemy combatants in the town square.

There were a few residents of the town whom moved about their daily life as she was there. Dragging around their children or taking a few puffs from their ashy cigarettes. Diana drew no attention to herself as she wore the same outfit as them all, her hair and face hidden behind a torn red veil.

A few steps further, a small hill descended away from the village. Green grass and shorts winds brushed over her clothes. Diana sat and stared down into the hills that surrounded their small village.

They spoke in Chechen, the young man had a deep and gruff voice. One that didn't match his child-like face. "Balsham, how have the winters in Malaysia been?"

Balsham smiled, he was a good man. She'd known that from the day she'd turned him into an asset. "I have not been able to travel to Malaysia recently, but their weather stations predict cloudy." Both rose simultaneously and walked towards the forest. Balsham had a small cabin deep into the woods that allowed him to stay far from the villages wandering eyes.

He had information for her, good information based on the excitement in his voice.

Just as they crossed the threshold into the forest, one shot burst in the air. Barely missing Balsham. "Run!" She ordered, the brush dug into their skin as they ran towards salvation.

Balsham ran beside her in a thick sprint. Neither of them wanted to die.

She pulled Balsham next to her beside a large tree. The bark dug into her back. Diana pressed against her comms but nothing came back, not even a crackle.

What the fuck is happening?

"Don't flinch. Don't move." She advised him with a dark tone.

Another shot rang out. His body fell, his face half obscured by the mud of the floor. A darkness and hollowness ringing out in his obscured eye. 

Diana wanted to scream, instead her clamped a hand over her mouth and stared down into his eyes as they darkened over. Tears stained her cheeks.

There were four men who chased them. Her face splattered with blood; she didn't know if it was his or hers. Honestly, Diana didn't care, she just wanted to live.

The arms grabbed and surrounded her as if they'd just appeared. Their grimy fingers gripped and pulled at her skin, bringing her deeper and deeper into the ever growing forest.

Diana's back slid against the forest floor. Picking up dirt, sticks and leaves. Her veil was left behind in a thick puddle of mud.

"Don't. Don't. Please! Please!" Diana struggled and struggled. Her fingers scratched at her captors wrists as tears drenched her blood soaked visage.

There were few moments over the course of her life that Diana felt fear. Before this moment Diana had thought she had felt fear, but she had been wrong. The fear in her chest choked her as pure hands shook her frail frame.

Then they stopped and for a moment Diana's chest stopped cracking holes in her body. The four of them turned to her. They tore off their masks, allowing her to see the true visages of those who would drag her to the watery depths of Hell.

All that stared back was her family. Mama. Dad. Phoebe. Henry. Each stared back at her like she was not their daughter or their sister. They stared back at her with no love behind their black eyes.

For a moment Diana too stopped moving, her face contorting into one with weeping and mournful details. With a bone shaking horror Diana pushed to scramble away from the faces of her family.

"Why don't you love us anymore?" Henry questioned, his beady eyes boring holes into her skin.

"I do love you! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" More tears tore down her face. Her limbs felt tired and weak but her mind felt like it would never wind down. Like it would memorize every portion of the woods around her until it broke.

"Why don't you love us anymore?" Her mother spoke.

"Why don't you love us anymore?" Her father interrogated.

Phoebe did not speak, instead her eyes were trained on Diana like a predator watching its meek prey. Perhaps Phoebe had asked the ringing question in her head instead.

Eyes wide open, her heart felt like it was running a million miles a second. Re-adjusting herself Diana remembered that she was not in Chechnya anymore, she was at home.

She scrambled off the bed, arms outstretched and reaching for anything to write with. There was no more putting it off. Sweat drenched her skin, it felt like poison curled every fiber of her being.

They needed to die. 

If she ever wanted to tame the wildfire that was licking her bones, Diana needed nothing more than to get rid of them. She needed to watch as they leaked the last of their blood. She needed to cleanse herself of everything their presence had left behind. 

Her hand shakily scribbled their names on the back of a receipt from the bedroom's plastic red garbage can.

Marcus Blackburn

Kurt Asher

Julius Sloane

Darryl Fellowes