Dreams were powerful weapons to mankind. They had the ability to incapacitate you, render you powerless and make you submit to their will. He wanted, for once, to stop dreaming. The scribblings in his journal came to life and over and over again he relived the memories until he'd wake in a cold sweat. Perhaps this was his just due. This was his reward. What he deserved. The ghosts of the men watched him as he slept, the women he'd raped and mutilated laid beside him and screamed as they did before dying, the children he'd bayonetted and sliced in half sat on his chest, in their many pieces, and laughed at him. You deserve the pain and suffering. You deserve to die a long and slow death. They whispered to him. You deserve to watch your body rot from the inside out. 

When he'd wake, tears had seeped from his eyes and wet his pillow and pain set his entire body on fire. Grunting, he pushed himself up and reached to open his nightstand dresser drawer. Nearly pulling the whole of it out, his fingers fished around until he found it. Wrenching it out, he gripped a photo with his burning fingers. Watery eyes took in the picture that time and time again served to comfort him. 

Standing in front of the picturesque setting of a tree, countryside, and a white gate, he held his wife close. Hands curled up in a loose fist against the side of her body, he'd turned his head and leaned down some to press his lips against her cheek. His other hand rested on his hip. A demure and gentle expression lived on her face, in the small smile she gave the camera, her hands out of view. Gasping for breath now, he couldn't control the tears that came from his eyes. 

"Beatrice...." 

*** 

1945

January

Mukden POW Camp 

Her legs had grown tired and cold but she forced herself to continue working. She had no other choice. Bending low, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a handful of seed. Sprinkling it into the dug out holes, she covered it up and went to the next hole. Her sackcloth dress was soaked with sweat and the harsh winds of winter chilled her to the bone. Shivering, she continued to work as best she could. Her mouth was dry and she was severely dehydrated. It was a feeling she'd grown used to, her tongue feeling like coarse sand brushing the top of her mouth. If she finished early, the guard would give her a tiny amount of water. It proved motivation to hurry.

It had been two years since she'd been brought to Mukden. In that time, she'd seen it all. Children born only to be shot. Men were forced to stand in below-freezing temperatures naked and doused in ice-cold water until their limbs froze. Women were taken to 'appointments' and never seen again. This place was hell on earth. 

*** 

Crowded into rooms, she hugged another woman as they waited. Shivering, cold, and naked, fear gripped the small group of them. The waiting seemed to drag on for hours before the steel door to the cell was opened. In filed five soldiers, each for the five of them. The door began to close and for a moment, they looked back and forth at each other in deafening silence. But soon, the soldiers started to unbutton their uniforms, signaling their intention. Every one of them began to panic and tried to push themselves against the cold stone wall.

Some of them began to scream as the now partially unclothed men advanced and gripped them by their hair. Fear threading a deep knot in her stomach, she felt like her heart was going to pop out of her body with how fast it was beating. Her breaths were uneven... harsh... gasping. A shot rang out, making them jump. One unwilling participant laid crumpled up on the floor, blood oozing from her head. Tears made her eyes shiny and she couldn't help the low cries that escaped her as one man grabbed hold of her. 

"You're prettier than the rest of them. Dark skin." He said with a slight grin, lifting his hands to grip her breasts. Her hands were tight in fists and her entire body shook and shivered. She squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth as he pinched her nipples, a hiss of pain at him brutally twisting them. Lifting her hands up now, she gave him a healthy shove, her hands taking her injured breasts in her palms. 

"Don't touch me." She spit, eyes growing defiant. He chuckled but didn't say another word, instead he lifted a hand and slapped her, the sound of impact loud and reverberant. The force of it knocked her down and he didn't give her any time to recover, straddling her. 

"I have heard about your kind. Black skin and black blood." He hushed, his hands wrapping around her neck. Squeezing tightly, he forced her to gasp for air, her hands trying but failing to scratch him. He succeeded in forcing them back with a hand and punched her hard, making her vision blur and black out. Another against her cheek. There busting her lip. Still, she tried to fight back, determined grunts rising from her throat. They only seemed to humor him, however. Once silent, now the room filled with the noise of open and muffled screams, wet gurgling, impact from blows, and rough hard thrusting. 

"The only normal color on you is your pussy." He vocalized in discovery, having spread her legs open. 

"D-don't...touch...me..." She pushed out, bloody saliva oozing out of her mouth. Her consequence was a bruising slap against her triangle and the impact made her cry out in agony. Her legs instantly tried to close up but he forced them to stay apart. 

"Close them and I put a bullet through your head." He threatened, letting go of the now shaking limbs. Extending a finger, he prodded and poked at her, pulling apart her folds and examining them. He stretched them outwards, testing the feeling of the skin. 

"Interesting. Soft." Letting go of her labia, he took that same finger and jabbed it into her small entrance, making her screech. 

"Hm." Wiggling the digit around, he brushed every nook and cranny of her insides, feeling and examining her like an animal. Withdrawing his finger, he took two of them and hooked the tips on either side of her opening. With brute force, he pulled it apart as far as he could go, the action forcing a scream to come from her throat. 

"So pink inside..." He ignored the shouts and yells to stop. She'd dug her nails into the ground so hard they'd broken and started bleeding. To her disgust and horror, he had the audacity to spit, watching the saliva disappear into the stretched hole. Pain made her quiver with fresh sharp prickles as if a million needles stabbed her from her head to her feet. By now the ugly dangling thing between his legs had grown in size and now visibly oozed white liquid. Reaching for it, he began to touch it, bringing it closer and closer to her abused opening. He said not a word as he penetrated her, the force of his intrusion made tears slip silently down the sides of her face, her expression full of anguish. 

He released a shaky groan as he smashed into her, his thrusts uneven and violent. The tears in her one good eye that had not been blackened blinded her vision and she squeezed it shut as he pummeled her insides. He let out a loud exclaim of pleasure and pressed flush against her for a moment, his body weight completely crushing her and the skin of his flesh slick with sweat. Finally, he withdrew from her and licked his lips at the semen that expelled itself from her body. She laid there shuddering, ears taking in the rustle of clothes and weeping from the other women. They shared a few words amongst themselves, some chuckles, and then with the sound of the door opening and closing she opened her eye. 

Failing to will her body to move, all she could do was turn her head. The woman she'd rode with in the black vehicle had curled up into a ball, arms wrapping around herself as if to shield herself. Another laid limp, legs still open, her fingers flexing and eyes staring up at the ceiling. And the last woman was still and unmoving, deep red finger marks around her pale neck revealed signs of strangulation. Her eyes looked upward, lifeless and unseeing. 

*** 

After that, every semblance of their former identity had been erased and the four had simply been given a three-digit number. For some reason, she was given a four-digit number. They'd been split up, she and the woman from the truck sent to work in the agricultural sector, and the other one elsewhere. 

They had been sent to a building called 'Sector 9'; quarters specifically for women and children. After some time there, she'd learned that some of those men who had been abducted with her had long since died, not even surviving two months. She'd finally learned the name of her companion that survived the abduction. Her name was Ruby. Her husband and children had been taken to another camp somewhere in Singapore. Ruby was the only one keeping her fire going. They encouraged one another no matter what came. 

Every day that she woke, there was no certainty that she'd live to rest that night. It threatened to deplete and destroy her. The bitterness and rage she felt towards these Japanese creatures kept her going. She'd never forgive them for murdering her brother. She'd never forgive them for violating her. She'd never forgive them for murdering innocent men, women, and children just for the hell of it. She'd heard stories from some of the women. They called it 'Unit 100'. The place people went never to return. It was well known that people were used in experiments....being cut open alive with no pain medication, forcibly made to have sex with syphilis infected strangers, and put in chambers that made their bodies explode. She'd heard enough to turn her blood cold.

In the two years since at Mukden, she'd come into contact with so many different women. Those from Russia. Ukraine. Lithuania. India. Korea. Even more Americans. Here, the racial divide didn't matter and she supposed that out of everything, that fact was the best thing to happen. It was sad that it took the threat of losing one's life to create a sense of community. 

"Bea," Turning, she saw Ruby scooching her way towards her down the line of rows. 

"Did you hear about Uly?" The one that had been separated from them and taken elsewhere.

"Yeah. I heard. They killed her and the baby." Ruby tightened her jaw and messy scattered seed over the holes she'd neatly filled. 

"Bastards. All of em goin to hell." She didn't argue with that. 

"It feels like this war is never gonna end." It did feel that way. It tortured her to think that she'd die on this cursed plot of land surrounded by the corpses of the innocent. 

"Head to the women's chamber!" The overseer commanded suddenly, his hands on his gun ready to shoot all who opposed. 

"That's sudden. Wonder what they want." She inquired, eyes taking in the sour-faced man. 

"I don't know but they can kiss my ass," Ruby replied, bringing a tiny chuckle to her. They dropped their tools and obeyed, going into the barracks. As they headed in, they passed a building they called 'the urn'. It was the crematorium where they incinerated all their physical evidence. By now she should have gotten used to the smell of burning flesh and bone. But then she gathered that she never would be able to get the smell of death out of her nose even if she dug her own fingers into her nostrils.

"Fall in!"  The guard ordered once they were in the barracks. They did as told. 

"Attention!" The voice of the one the women nicknamed the devil of Mukden. Immediately, some of the women began to shake, their eyes wide with fear. She bit the inside of her cheek as the commander stepped in through the open doors. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. Seedy eyes drifted across the still maruta, faces ranging in color and size. How lucky was he to be in the midst of such fortune? So many different body shapes. Textures of hair, lengths, and limb height. 

Licking his teeth, he smirked as his eyes came across one. She curiously didn't tremble or shake. Interesting. She was short and small. Malnutrition hallowed her cheeks and eyes. What healthy curve there used to be had started to be chipped away. And yet it didn't diminish her beauty. In fact, it intrigued him even more. Smooth honey-colored skin. Lips plump. Cracked. But indeed very biteable. Especially that bottom one. Her hair was in a wild primitive state, frazzled untamed curls pulled back with a piece of cloth. His feet led him past the other rats, insignificant. Standing directly in front of her, he grinned as he watched the muscle in her jaw tighten. 

"What is your name?" He asked in smooth silky Japanese.

"Do you care what my name is?" She replied, keeping her eyes level with his chest. Laughing, he sneered, lips quirked up at the ends like a cheshire. 

"This place hasn't completely gotten rid of your defiance." He lifted a finger and lifted her chin upward, bringing her gaze to his. 

"Since you won't give me your name I will name you." After a short while, he spoke again. 

"Dog." Her eyes grew hard and he now gripped her chin. 

"If I didn't have enough on my plate today, I'd have fun with you." Letting her go, he took one step back from her and eyed her from head to toe. 

"I know just where to send you....little impassioned puppy. Someplace where the defiance and rebellion will be squeezed out of you until you're nothing but a broken little shell." Grabbing her arm, he began to drag her towards the door, ignoring her sudden screams and protests. 

"Ianfu." Two men took her from him and took her kicking and screaming out of the barracks into a separate building. Full of men, they watched as they shoved her down on the ground. 

"Ah, a new one?"

"Has she been broken in?"

"She's different. Darker than the other ones." Grabbing her by her hair, the man knelt down and pressed his lips against her ear. 

"As of today, you will serve the great Empire of Japan with your body until the day you die." Letting her go, he stood. 

"Has Matsuda returned yet?"

"Mm. He's just getting off the deployment truck."

"Takahata wants her to go to him."

"Hey, that's not fair!"

"As newly promoted officer it is. You have no say Seiki. Have fun with the others. This one goes to him." The thousand of eyes it seemed that stared at her, slipping like fingers underneath her clothes. Tongues that licked lips, barely controlled lust in narrow eyes. Teeth grinned, like cats. Like beasts. 

"Ah, Matsuda." She kept her head down, not enough gumption to face the eyes. 

"The commander has gifted you with a promotion treat."

"That is?" The voice of the man was cold and hard... unemotional and unfeeling. 

"A war bride. She's yours until we win the war." 

"Take her to my quarters." Hands grabbed her and she began to scream again as they took her off again, deeper and deeper into the pit of hell it seemed until they shoved her into a living quarter. Spacious, private. The sound of boots entering made her freeze and she balled up her fists. Not this again. She'd seen women die because of it...of this. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach. 

Young girls...some barely thirteen or fourteen years of age... beaten...raped repeatedly...sometimes thirty times a day...thirty different men... till their insides ripped apart and their outsides swelled and bruised so much the pain became unbearable. Then and only then did she begin to tremble, tears welling up in her eyes. She....she'd kill herself before she let that happen to her. She'd personally ask this son of a bitch to shoot her dead before letting him violate her. 

"Do you speak English?" The startling deepness of the male voice sent chills down her spine. Swallowing, she gave a nod. That was different. Most of the ones she'd encountered did not know enough English to count to two. But this one was fluent, with nearly no accent at all. 

"Do you know why you're here?"

"You brought me here to die." The boots grew closer until they stopped right in front of her. The man knelt down. He had long legs. 

"Where are you from?"

"Does it matter?" 

"It doesn't no. Nor do I really care." The harshness of his words cut into her. Something about his attitude annoyed the hell out of her. 

"Look at me."

"No."

"I won't ask again." 'Or what?' almost slipped out but she bit her tongue to quiet herself. Slowly, she lifted her head. At once, he grew slack, mouth open and eyes wide. Likewise, the man she envisioned was not who knelt before her. Not a stranger. Not a brute pig eager to make her human flesh his meal. 

"B-Beatrice?" Eyes filling with tears, she clenched her jaw. No way... this wasn't happening.... how was this happening? 

"How the hell did you end up he-"

"I thought you didn't care." She shot back smoothly, watery eyes growing indignant. It was his turn to tighten his jaw and he didn't say another word as he stood. She watched as he sat down at his newly provided desk and bent over to unlace his boots. 

"At ease. No harm will come to you." He answered, tone hard and flinching. 

"I don't believe you." He chose not to answer, standing up to unbutton his uniform jacket. Placing it over the back of his chair, he quietly grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and slipped it into his mouth. Lifting eyes briefly to settle on her, he dropped them once more as he struck a match, the light from the fire burning up the paper and tobacco. The sight of him made her heart twist painfully in her chest and she blinked the tears back. God, it was really him. He was here...he was back... but...but-

"If I wanted to, I could strip you right now and take you as many times as I wanted." 

"You'd really entertain the thought?" That characteristic quietness of his swallowed the room and he took another drag of his cigarette. 

"I might." 

"I'd fight you until my last breath then. Know that." He seemed humored and blew out thin cloudy smoke. 

"The chances of you succeeding in fighting me are very slim." 

"I didn't say I had to win. I just said I would fight. Winning doesn't matter."

"Neither does dying apparently." She silenced herself as a long trail of misty white smoke dissipated across his face. 

"If you refuse to stay here, I could always trade you to one of the other men vying for you." 

"You wouldn't dare."

"I wouldn't?" Knowing better than to call his bluff, she drew her fingers up into fists, digging the nails into her palms. 

"You're different than the last time I saw you..." She said quietly, letting her eyes drift across him. Indeed, it seemed the youth had been sucked out of his face and in its place was a person she'd never seen before. Like night and day, the person who came into her dressing room those years ago seemed to have vanished. 

"We both didn't expect to meet again this way. Or at all." He replied, taking yet another inhale of his nicotine. 

"And here we are." She wasn't sure she could call the slightest quirk movement of his lip upward as a smirk but just as quickly as she'd seen it it was gone. 

"You might not like it but here is the safest place you could be. If I were you, I would take advantage of it." Snuffing out his cigarette he sighed. 

"It seems fate wills this reunion. I'll allow it." He began to unbutton his shirt forcing her eyes downward.

"You will be at my side should I leave the quarters. We will share baths. And should I be deployed, you will not be allowed to leave this place until I return." 

"That sounds like slavery." 

"Call it what you want. But I call it survival." Turning to face her, he lifted his shirt up and over his head. 

"Think about your options and ponder them well. I'll give you 24 hours to make your decision." She bit her lip, damning her eyes as they slipped down his exposed chest and muscular midsection. There was once a time when the very sight of him like this was only a dream...a fantasy in her mind. He went to go stand at a small face bowl and she licked her lips. 

They weren't smitten strangers anymore. The moment of brief but intense love born to a night of jazz and sweet soft kisses had long since passed. Now, who stood before her was a callous calculated murderer, and she a newly appointed sex slave by force. It would be in their best interest to play the cards right. It would be in their best interest to use each other up in order to survive the game.