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Description
"So that's it, then."
"Yes."
"She's gone." She squeezed his shoulder tightly, voice thick as she replied, "Yes." Soft 'tch' noises filled the silence as the gravedigger finished patting the dirt down. Pushed a marker in, temporarily stating who's life had been lost, which cold body lay beneath the ground. It cast a long shadow, mildly contrasting with the fresh-dug soil. She stood behind her husband, who was still sitting on a chair beside his daughter's grave. The digger took a step towards them, removed his cap and wrung it in his old, knarled hands. "That my job done, sir, miss," he nodded to them, "and I'll come back for the chairs in the mornin'. You take all the time you need. My condolences to the both of ya." He nodded again and replaced his cap. He swung his shovel over his shoulder and started to walk away, then stopped. "It's a terribly tragic thing, this. The passin' of a child. It doesn't get any easier each time I dig a grave for one so young, no it doesn't." He coughed a little and continued, "I don't envy you, this circumstance. Buryin' your own flesh and blood before their time. No parent wants to go through what ya'll have, no parent should. But you two believe whatever it is you believe, believe it with all your heart, and be it God or Goddess that awaits you in the afterlife, know that your precious daughter will be waitin' with them to see you again."
She smiled weakly and nodded. "Thank-you, sir," she whispered. He nodded and coughed again. "Now, if you two need anything, I mean it, anything, call me up. I live right by the church, and if you need your roof patched or garden weeded, or even a bit of extra food on the table, don't hesitate to pay me a visit. I may be gettin' old, but I'm still willin' to help ya'll out whenever you need me to."
"Again, thank-you." A single tear rolled down the valleys of his cheek as he turned and coughed again, gruffly, and started murming to himself as he walked away. "T'ain't right, what's happened, no... T'ain't! Poor family, losin' a child like that..." his voice faded as he made his way out of the cemetary, back towards his lonely hut behind the church. As the sun sunk lower and lower, shades of orange and yellow bled across the grounds, tinting everything it could touch. Green turned to red as the sun lowered, and still they remained, motionless. Twilight started creeping over the orange and yellow when he spoke.
"Where did I fuck up, Lil?" Tears sprang to her eyes at his words. With a choking voice she replied quietly, "Nobody fucked up, Ans. We were out of town, she was at Cyan's, there was nothing-"
"We could do. Right. Not what I meant, Lil." He sat up and rubbed his face. "We aren't-" He stopped, and rubbed his face again, hands shaking, then started again, quieter this time. "We weren't 'Mom' and 'Dad' to her, Lil. We were Lilian and Ansil. She stopped calling me 'Daddy' when she was three. You were Lilian by the time she was four. If I'd been a-" Lilian covered his mouth from behind with her hand. "Stop, Ans. It's not your fault.' He mumbled into her fingers, and she pressed down harder. "Stop, Ans! We were still 'Mom' and 'Dad' to her, she just felt.. wrong by saying that. You know that. We talked to her about it as soon as she started calling us by name. It's simply how she felt." She removed her hand as she came around to his front. Brushed a lock of dark hair out of his puffy, red eyes. "You know that." She repeated quietly. He closed his eyes and pressed her hand to his cheeks. "Then why do I feel like such a failure?" he whispered strongly. "Why do I feel like she wasn't crying out for her mummy and daddy, she was crying out for Lilian and Ansil?" He was crying now, tears streaming from behind his closed eyelids. The last bit of sunlight streaked across them as Lilian grasped her husband's hands in her own and said, "We don't know that, we can't know that. Only that bastard that did this to her-to us- knows." Darkness fell as he sobbed over his dead daughter, his wife hugging him and crying silently as well.

Two Weeks Earlier
The bindings chafed at her wrists. Still, she fought them, jerking her arms back and forth as much as possible. 'Wet blood is slick... If I can just get out of these stupid bindings!' "Ugh!" she sat back and relaxed her arms with a cry of exasperation. Let her head roll backwards over the back of the chair, felt tears slowly creep into her eyes. She sat up quickly, shaking her head and the tears away. 'No! No tears, no fear, no anything! Just like Ansil says, gotta keep a clear head...' She sighed and started slowly wiggling her wrists, trying with her fingers to untie the complex knots. "Gah! Ow!" she exclaimed, feeling a nail tear. Frustrated, she let out a high-pitched squeal and shook her limbs fiercely, trying desperately to get free. In the midst of her fit, she didn't hear the door open and close, or the footsteps approaching behind her. When she finally stopped, the man spoke. "Nice try, but that won't work at all, dearie." He had a slight English accent, she couldn't place the origin. She craned her head around to look at him. "What do you want with me?" she spat in his general direction, as he was still out of sight. "Oh, not much. Not much at all." Her slowly walked in front of her as he talked. "Bit of this, bit of that, mostly pleasure, love." The single bulb that was lit directly above her cast too many shadows for her to make him out as she barked out a laugh. "Ha! Well, I already gave my boyfriend everything, so you can't take that from me!" She could tell he wasn't her kidnapper, however, when he said, "Don't sound so smug sweet, that's not what I take pleasure from," and stepped forward into the light. A short cropping of shaggy brown hair covered his scalp, and a neatly trimmed goatee was the extent of his facial hair. He stood six foot tall and had a knife in each hand. He stepped towards her and ran a blade down her arm and she shivered, fear deep in her heart. "See what I mean, love?" he grinned evilly, slowly licking his lips, revealing teeth sharpened to terrifying points. Still, she put on a brave act. "You be careful there, mister! When my father-Ansil's his name- when he finds you he's going to kick your ass so far in you'll be shittin' out your mouth!" At that her captor threw back his head and laughed. "Really.. Well then, better get started, before 'e gets here." Chuckling, he circled her once before giving her a nick on her knee. She didn't even flinch. "Oh dearie, dearie me, looks like I will be 'avin' some fun with you!" Blood was pouring from her wound, and when he came close to her again, she kicked out, sending a spray of red towards the ceiling, and knocking one knife out of his hand. "You little bitch!" He cried, cradling his hand. Grasping his other knife tighter, he came towards her. "You'll pay for that," was all he said.

Tears ran down her cheeks, clearing two paths through the smeared blood. Blood dripped down her arms, legs, torso. Her clothes were cut almost completely off her body, cuts covered almost all of her arms, legs, and whatever parts of her back he could get to through the chair. Her captor stopped carving maliciously on her arm and listened. "Well, well well, dearie. Seems I might get that ass kicking sooner than anticipated." Bangs came from above wherever the hell they were, and he turned back to her. "I'll need my special knife for this, hold on a tick, will ya love?" He stood and walked to his table. Picked up a blade so long and deadly-looking it looked like it could slice a horse wide open.
"No." She whispered, struggling against her bonds. "NO!" She screamed, "Ansil! Lilian! ANSIL! ANSIL! LILIAN! NO! NO! MUM, DAD! PLEASE MUM! NO! DAD!" she fought harder and harder, watching the blade gleam, watching it come closer to her, could almost feel its cold metal pressed against her skin. Saw it raise in the dark, and let out one last scream as it descended towards her, captor laughing maniacally, seconds away from salvation. The last thing she heard was the gunshots fired into the twisted bastard who took her life.

Description
"So that's it, then."
"Yes."
"She's gone." She squeezed his shoulder tightly, voice thick as she replied, "Yes." Soft 'tch' noises filled the silence as the gravedigger finished patting the dirt down. Pushed a marker in, temporarily stating who's life had been lost, which cold body lay beneath the ground. It cast a long shadow, mildly contrasting with the fresh-dug soil. She stood behind her husband, who was still sitting on a chair beside his daughter's grave. The digger took a step towards them, removed his cap and wrung it in his old, knarled hands. "That my job done, sir, miss," he nodded to them, "and I'll come back for the chairs in the mornin'. You take all the time you need. My condolences to the both of ya." He nodded again and replaced his cap. He swung his shovel over his shoulder and started to walk away, then stopped. "It's a terribly tragic thing, this. The passin' of a child. It doesn't get any easier each time I dig a grave for one so young, no it doesn't." He coughed a little and continued, "I don't envy you, this circumstance. Buryin' your own flesh and blood before their time. No parent wants to go through what ya'll have, no parent should. But you two believe whatever it is you believe, believe it with all your heart, and be it God or Goddess that awaits you in the afterlife, know that your precious daughter will be waitin' with them to see you again."
She smiled weakly and nodded. "Thank-you, sir," she whispered. He nodded and coughed again. "Now, if you two need anything, I mean it, anything, call me up. I live right by the church, and if you need your roof patched or garden weeded, or even a bit of extra food on the table, don't hesitate to pay me a visit. I may be gettin' old, but I'm still willin' to help ya'll out whenever you need me to."
"Again, thank-you." A single tear rolled down the valleys of his cheek as he turned and coughed again, gruffly, and started murming to himself as he walked away. "T'ain't right, what's happened, no... T'ain't! Poor family, losin' a child like that..." his voice faded as he made his way out of the cemetary, back towards his lonely hut behind the church. As the sun sunk lower and lower, shades of orange and yellow bled across the grounds, tinting everything it could touch. Green turned to red as the sun lowered, and still they remained, motionless. Twilight started creeping over the orange and yellow when he spoke.
"Where did I fuck up, Lil?" Tears sprang to her eyes at his words. With a choking voice she replied quietly, "Nobody fucked up, Ans. We were out of town, she was at Cyan's, there was nothing-"
"We could do. Right. Not what I meant, Lil." He sat up and rubbed his face. "We aren't-" He stopped, and rubbed his face again, hands shaking, then started again, quieter this time. "We weren't 'Mom' and 'Dad' to her, Lil. We were Lilian and Ansil. She stopped calling me 'Daddy' when she was three. You were Lilian by the time she was four. If I'd been a-" Lilian covered his mouth from behind with her hand. "Stop, Ans. It's not your fault.' He mumbled into her fingers, and she pressed down harder. "Stop, Ans! We were still 'Mom' and 'Dad' to her, she just felt.. wrong by saying that. You know that. We talked to her about it as soon as she started calling us by name. It's simply how she felt." She removed her hand as she came around to his front. Brushed a lock of dark hair out of his puffy, red eyes. "You know that." She repeated quietly. He closed his eyes and pressed her hand to his cheeks. "Then why do I feel like such a failure?" he whispered strongly. "Why do I feel like she wasn't crying out for her mummy and daddy, she was crying out for Lilian and Ansil?" He was crying now, tears streaming from behind his closed eyelids. The last bit of sunlight streaked across them as Lilian grasped her husband's hands in her own and said, "We don't know that, we can't know that. Only that bastard that did this to her-to us- knows." Darkness fell as he sobbed over his dead daughter, his wife hugging him and crying silently as well.

Two Weeks Earlier
The bindings chafed at her wrists. Still, she fought them, jerking her arms back and forth as much as possible. 'Wet blood is slick... If I can just get out of these stupid bindings!' "Ugh!" she sat back and relaxed her arms with a cry of exasperation. Let her head roll backwards over the back of the chair, felt tears slowly creep into her eyes. She sat up quickly, shaking her head and the tears away. 'No! No tears, no fear, no anything! Just like Ansil says, gotta keep a clear head...' She sighed and started slowly wiggling her wrists, trying with her fingers to untie the complex knots. "Gah! Ow!" she exclaimed, feeling a nail tear. Frustrated, she let out a high-pitched squeal and shook her limbs fiercely, trying desperately to get free. In the midst of her fit, she didn't hear the door open and close, or the footsteps approaching behind her. When she finally stopped, the man spoke. "Nice try, but that won't work at all, dearie." He had a slight English accent, she couldn't place the origin. She craned her head around to look at him. "What do you want with me?" she spat in his general direction, as he was still out of sight. "Oh, not much. Not much at all." Her slowly walked in front of her as he talked. "Bit of this, bit of that, mostly pleasure, love." The single bulb that was lit directly above her cast too many shadows for her to make him out as she barked out a laugh. "Ha! Well, I already gave my boyfriend everything, so you can't take that from me!" She could tell he wasn't her kidnapper, however, when he said, "Don't sound so smug sweet, that's not what I take pleasure from," and stepped forward into the light. A short cropping of shaggy brown hair covered his scalp, and a neatly trimmed goatee was the extent of his facial hair. He stood six foot tall and had a knife in each hand. He stepped towards her and ran a blade down her arm and she shivered, fear deep in her heart. "See what I mean, love?" he grinned evilly, slowly licking his lips, revealing teeth sharpened to terrifying points. Still, she put on a brave act. "You be careful there, mister! When my father-Ansil's his name- when he finds you he's going to kick your ass so far in you'll be shittin' out your mouth!" At that her captor threw back his head and laughed. "Really.. Well then, better get started, before 'e gets here." Chuckling, he circled her once before giving her a nick on her knee. She didn't even flinch. "Oh dearie, dearie me, looks like I will be 'avin' some fun with you!" Blood was pouring from her wound, and when he came close to her again, she kicked out, sending a spray of red towards the ceiling, and knocking one knife out of his hand. "You little bitch!" He cried, cradling his hand. Grasping his other knife tighter, he came towards her. "You'll pay for that," was all he said.

Tears ran down her cheeks, clearing two paths through the smeared blood. Blood dripped down her arms, legs, torso. Her clothes were cut almost completely off her body, cuts covered almost all of her arms, legs, and whatever parts of her back he could get to through the chair. Her captor stopped carving maliciously on her arm and listened. "Well, well well, dearie. Seems I might get that ass kicking sooner than anticipated." Bangs came from above wherever the hell they were, and he turned back to her. "I'll need my special knife for this, hold on a tick, will ya love?" He stood and walked to his table. Picked up a blade so long and deadly-looking it looked like it could slice a horse wide open.
"No." She whispered, struggling against her bonds. "NO!" She screamed, "Ansil! Lilian! ANSIL! ANSIL! LILIAN! NO! NO! MUM, DAD! PLEASE MUM! NO! DAD!" she fought harder and harder, watching the blade gleam, watching it come closer to her, could almost feel its cold metal pressed against her skin. Saw it raise in the dark, and let out one last scream as it descended towards her, captor laughing maniacally, seconds away from salvation. The last thing she heard was the gunshots fired into the twisted bastard who took her life.