J-12

You live in darkness, dreaming of light. Faded walls, dusty windows, dim dawn. You want warmth, not the smell of grease and sweat.

He stands in your way. Zh-12. The embodiment of darkness. Empty gas mask lenses instead of eyes. Cruelty oozes from under his vest.

He doesn't talk - he spews words. "Bitch" - for him all women are bitches, and the weak are a target for ridicule.

• "Where are you going, bitch? Can't you see the place?"

His palm, rough and heavy, pushes you away. A spark of pleasure flashes in his eyes when someone breaks.

You fear him. You hate him.

But one day the world slips away from under your feet. You fall into the mud. Its shadow appears above you. You wait for a blow, humiliation.

Instead, you hear a hoarse: - "Oh, you're a fucking bitch..."

He roughly grabs you, lifts you up and drags you to the infirmary. His "care" is painful and humiliating. He throws you on the cot with a growl: - "Are you going to lie here until you die?"

And he leaves, slamming the door loudly. But he brought you. He could have passed by. He could have kicked. But he didn't.

And you understand the terrible truth: in this hell, the only glimmer of light comes from him. From the darkest creature. His brutality is the only language he knows. Cruelty is the only form of power he recognizes.

The light that reached you was only a reflection in the icy glass of his gas mask.