Natalya's eyes fluttered open. The dripping ceiling of her cell loomed back at her. She hadn't been asleep, simply trapped in a memory.

Three meagre bowls of gruel had been Natalya's only indicator that days had passed her by. Her turmoiled slumber had led her to reminiscing. She expected to feel better after her admission over what happened with Micha and Yelena, perhaps like a weight had been lifted. Instead, she felt even more ashamed. To have kept it hidden meant she could almost pretend that her part in it wasn't real; just a horrible dream. To have uttered any truth made her see herself for what she was.

A murderer.

Frustrated at her impotence, Natalya began to pace her cell, her mind focused on the burn in her feet. Better that than Sasha.

Then the door finally opened. Lebedev stepped in, his footsteps echoing off the dank walls. Natalya had never considered him a warm presence, yet now it was as though any trace of feeling had abandoned him. Something had turned.

Stood over her, Lebedev had his hands tucked behind him. 'Come with me.' His usual cordiality had soured.

She did as she was bid. Natalya followed him absent-mindedly to his office. Yet he walked past it.

Hurrying to keep up to his focused strides, she called to him. 'Where are we going?' 

Lebedev remained silent.

They hurried through corridor after corridor, Natalya more confused with each one. Finally, Lebedev hauled open a door that led them outside, Natalya squinting in the glaring sun that sat high overhead.

Anything she could make out was frosty, the true October chill finally settling in. Natalya took a deep breath, eager for the crisp autumn air to fill her lungs. Instead, she was met with something thick and almost warm; something metallic. It made her think of the butcher's near Leningradsky Station. Perturbed, Natalya tried to focus her gaze to work out where she was.

It was a courtyard, the stone walls high and grey, and armed with the same barbed wire as the outer perimeter. The door behind her seemed to be the only way in or out, the sludge covered ground leading in only one direction. Several guards milled around the far opposite wall, the ruckus they created drowning out the final slam of the door. They were smoking, their rifles slung clumsily over their shoulders as the three more seasoned men teased the youngest.

To the side of their games, stood Sasha and Boris. They hadn't spotted her, the guards too rambunctious. Sasha had Boris's shoulders in a firm grip, their foreheads pressed together as they continued in feverish undertones. Sasha faced away from the guards, and the far right wall.

Now Natalya could see why.

One section of the wall was adorned by muddy splatters, the splash of colour more pronounced against the snow that had been piled against the opposing sides. Butcher's was right.

This was the execution block.

Natalya looked at Lebedev. He was pulling on a pair of leather gloves, more concerned by his cold hands than he was their surroundings.

The scent of warm blood against the cold air choked Natalya, and she had to force the words from her throat. 'I don't understand?'

'You will.' He began to walk away, but Natalya stayed rooted where she was. 'Come,' he ordered.

All Natalya could manage was a shake of her head as she retreated towards the safety of the door. Lebedev's gloved hand grabbed her bare wrist, the leather creaking against her frozen skin as he jerked her forward. Natalya yelped, trying to grasp at the door handle to anchor herself, desperate to believe that her efforts were not futile.

'Liya?' called a horrified, familiar voice. She glanced up, desperate to see her husband.

'Sasha!' she cried back.

He abandoned Boris and attempted to reach her and Lebedev, his strides laboured under the restraint of his shackles. One of the guards managed to trip him up, Sasha sent sprawling to the ground. He fought against the two men that tugged him to his feet, a dirty, bloody smear adorning his prison grey. 'No!' he cried. 'Why is she here? Lebedev, you promised me!'

Lebedev said nothing as they reached him and gave only a nod to the guards that restrained Sasha. They shoved him back beside Boris, who was pale and clammy. Natalya was thrust into her husband's tangled embrace, his chains digging into her skin as he held her close to him.

At another nod from Lebedev, the two guards took Boris by his arms.

Boris scrabbled back. 'No!' The same, strangled screech escaped his lips over and over again as they wrestled him into submission. He stumbled towards the couple as the men grabbed at his clothes. Boris' gaze settled on Natalya, the fear twisting into bitter anger. 'Suka!' He spat at her feet and Natalya did not attempt to avoid it. 'You did this to us!'

'Enough,' pleaded Sasha, his voice empty of the power it once held.

'You let her do this!' Boris still cried out as he was dragged to the wall. 'What about my boy, Sasha? My malysh? He's damned because of you both!'

Natalya pleaded with him to be quiet yet the words only echoed in her mind.

'Quiet!' ordered Lebedev, striding towards the firing squad.

'Damn you both!'

'Enough!' Lebedev barked as the youngest guard eagerly aimed his gun at Boris.

Boris fell into heavy sobs, finally silenced.

'Look away,' murmured Sasha as he attempted to pull Natalya's face into his chest. 'You don't need to see this.'

'I owe him this much,' said Natalya, her voice throaty as she kept her focus on Boris.

The squad raised their guns towards their target. As the safety clicked off, Boris jumped, a small, desperate squeal escaping him.

A pig for slaughter.

Natalya gripped Sasha's hand, the familiar feel of his callouses grating against her palm. This would be Sasha in a moment. Then her.

The shots rang out, descending the courtyard into agonising silence as Boris' body crumpled to the ground.

Natalya felt her knees waver, faintly aware that urine now trickled down her legs. Her nails dug into the flesh of her husband's hand, her own shaking as she clutched it tight to keep herself upright. Sasha exhaled a long, laboured breath. His eyes were wide and empty, his jaw clenched tight. This horror was not new to him.

All eyes turned on them, Natalya perturbed by the youngest guard's eager demeanour.

'I didn't think they would kill you too,' Sasha murmured.

Her legs trembled. 'You tried to warn me,' she replied, her voice as firm as she could make it. 'I didn't listen.'

Lebedev stepped in front of the pair, and they stiffened instinctively. 'Say your goodbyes.' They were frozen, the urgency of the moment seemingly pressing them both into unspeaking refusal. 'So be it.' Lebedev gestured to the two strongest guards, taking Natalya's wrist in his again.

She tried to protest as she was yanked from her husband's embrace. She tried to beg Lebedev to wait. She tried to stop everything and just stand still. Instead, all she could focus on was the eyes that she had adored since her youth.

Natalya choked out a breath. 'I loved you, Sasha.'

Hazel eyes found hers, latching on with such acute need and precision.

It was all she could do not to scream. 'I really did.'

Sasha broke free of the guards, his only need to get to her. They raised their guns at him but Lebedev held up his hand. One final mercy.

Gripping Sasha's jacket she melted towards him and in return he fumbled to hold her as close as he could. Natalya descended into a howl, guttural with grief. It was muffled into Sasha's chest, his stale scent so ripe it clung to her tongue.

'Don't leave me again.'

Sasha could only hush her, his nose heavy with snot as he buried it in her hair.

'I'm frightened, Sasha.'

'It'll be fine,' he promised, his rough hands holding her cheeks. 'You won't feel a thing.' His nose and cheeks were reddened with cold, his chapped lips wet with the tears that stained his face. Surging forward, he kissed her on her mouth, his tongue urgently searching hers. Their first kiss stayed in her mind, the feel of his held back smile a memory she wished was their reality. Natalya planted a flurry of kisses across his scraggly chin, a desperate attempt to remind him of the love they had once shared. It wasn't enough. Sasha pulled her mouth to his again, hungry for her final kiss. He lingered for a moment as his lips hovered over hers.

'I really did love you,' he whispered. 'You know that, don't you?'

She nodded, and he copied, as if to affirm it himself.

Sasha was tugged from her grasp and slung towards the wall, Boris' body lying across his path. He stumbled over him, the weight of the hollow shell Boris had become clear for all to witness. Sasha regained himself as best he could, and stood close to the wall, his fingertips pressed against the brick for some sort of confirmation.

The guards readied their guns. They took their time to cycle each rifle's bolt, the three clicks the actions made painfully far apart. It gave Sasha time for one last look at his wife. Natalya wished he hadn't. The monster he had become was gone, and all that stood before her was the young man she had shared her first true kiss with.

'We'll find our-' Sasha was cut off by the shots.

They deafened her, and Natalya felt every single one that passed through him, her hands knotted into her skirt in anguish. Sasha thumped back against the wall, his head lolling as he slid to his knees. His legs stayed tucked beneath him as his back finally hit the ground, no dignity or grace in his final movements. Natalya's knees buckled beneath her, and Lebedev let her fall to the floor. Her fingers dug into the mud, her cries loud and heavy with regret. She could see nothing, hear nothing, the world around her dulled and distant.

Lebedev bent down to lift her chin. 'Natalya, look at me.'

She jerked her face away from him.

His fingers bit into her jaw. 'Look at me!'

Natalya forced her eyes open, his hard, unfeeling gaze meeting hers.

'That's enough. You're not going to die.'

The breaths rasped from her throat. 'What?'

'Your admission, what you told me about Micha, that was enough to seal their fate. Sasha knew that when he told you to do it.'

'But I'm just as guilty!'

'No, you're not. You're just a silly little fool who ignored her duty.'

She stared blankly at him, clutching his wrist as he sat her back on her knees.

'You've been sentenced to five years hard labour,' he continued. 'It's the minimum sentence you could ever have expected.'

Natalya's teeth chattered as her bottom lip quivered. 'Then what was this?'

'You gave the evidence. You needed to witness the consequences.'

She couldn't bear to look at him, turning her attention back to Sasha. Two of the guards stooped, ready to remove him.

'Wait!' she called. Unable to walk, Natalya crawled frantically to her husband's body. She scarcely noticed that Boris had been removed, desperate to get to Sasha one last time.

As she reached him, she caught her breath, her hand splayed on the frozen wall to prop herself over Sasha. She reached out to touch him, her eyes half shut. He was damp, and warm. Finally, she looked at him properly. Four, neat wounds spilled blood across his chest, his mouth slightly open and his eyes barren. She could still see the boy who had first danced with her, the first to truly touch her, the young man who had promised her all that he could give her.

What an utter fool she had been.

Natalya reached out a trembling hand to his face, her fingertips just managing to reach his lips before she faltered. Instead she took his hand, still bound in chains. If only he had died without them, with some resemblance of freedom he'd gifted her once upon a time. He still had his wedding ring on. She worked it off his finger, kissing the empty space it left.

'I'll find my feet,' she whispered against his fingers. 'I promise.' She stuffed the ring into her pocket. It was the only thing she could take of his... the only thing that would remain.  Natalya pressed her cheek to his chest, curling into Sasha as much as she could.

The way she had done with Micha.

She should pull away from Sasha. He wasn't there anymore. He hadn't been for so many years.

Someone made the choice for her and hauled her to her feet. She was sure it was the youngest guard; the one who had shown the same enthusiasm for watching her shower as he had for executing her husband.

He forced her away from Sasha, her arms now painfully empty and her eyes clouded over by the smog of denial. She was half dragged to her cell and thrown on her bed, the door of her cage soon slammed shut.

Once more, Natalya stared up at the ceiling. When she closed her eyes, her thoughts swirled around her head. She opened them and sniffed, wiping her damp cheeks. Her fingers grazed her eye line.

They were bright with blood.

Furiously, she wiped her cheek again, only to hold up a palm enriched with the last traces of Sasha. With a violent growl, her stomach churned. She rocketed up and ran to the far corner. The vomit was like acid in her throat and left a small, acrid splatter on the floor. There was so little to come up. Her hand pressed against the damp wall as her other wound so tightly into her hair she could have ripped it out by its roots.

How was she ever supposed to live with herself now?