Chapter Forty-Five: Tharja

The main hatch thudded closed, locks sliding into place to create an airtight seal. The panicked chatter permeating the group of survivors gathered at the Bunker’s entrance contained a number of conflicting ideas, but they all seemed to agree on one thing: The hatch wouldn’t keep them safe. Tharja stood amongst the chaos, listening to all the voices, unable to shake the shock she felt. She’d been outside, albeit briefly, doing her part to hold the frontline. The horrifying sights she’d witnessed would never leave her. That was bad enough, but the certainty that only blind luck had saved her from being another victim, paired with the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out, left her feeling cold and alone.

The conflict was shifting. Suddenly, the enemy quite literally beating down their door wasn’t the primary problem. Some of the survivors wanted to try to barricade the hatch, form another line of defense behind it. Others wanted to flee, grab as many supplies as they could and escape out into the Necropolis. Trapped within her horrified shock, Tharja felt like she could see the situation with perfect clarity. They were dead. All of them. They’d managed to scrape together some semblance of safety within the Bunker, but that had only been a cruel joke. The Bunker wasn’t an oasis within the deadly city. It was a vessel, waiting to be fattened up by their presence. And now that the Bunker was nice and plump, the horrors had come to feast.

Stand and fight. Run and hide. The choices were meaningless. All paths lead to one inevitable conclusion. Tharja realized there was only one real way to beat the Necropolis. With the infighting growing louder and more chaotic, it was easy for her to slip away from the group of survivors. She said nothing to anyone she passed as she made her way back to her bunk. The tears that sparkled in her eyes contrasted with the Zen-like expression on her face. She had a way out. An escape plan that could not be countered by any of the monstrosities infesting the Necropolis. It wouldn’t be easy, but – as she saw it – it was the only sane choice.

Entering her private quarters, Tharja disrobed as she shuffled towards the bathroom. She left her clothing lying in a disheveled path behind her, fully nude by the time she reached the tub. Pushing the stopper into place, she twisted the knobs until a gush of warm water flowed from the faucet. Tharja sat on the edge of the tub, tracing her fingers through the rising water as she hummed out a song – something she remembered from childhood. When the tub was full, she stopped the water and slid into it. Her body caused the level of the water to rise, sloshing over the rim, but she took no notice of it as she leaned back and got comfortable.

Tharja was committed to her plan, but now that she’d prepared everything, she found it hard to follow through with it. She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. It helped to steady her nerves, but not enough. Giving her head a shake, she turned her thoughts elsewhere. She ran her hands along her breasts, feeling along the smooth flesh and tracing her fingers along the edges of her nipples. The tingle of pleasure felt nice. A faint smile played across her face, happy to bask in something that felt nice for a little while longer. Slipping a hand under the water and between her thighs, she dragged her fingers through the folds of her cunt.

Moaning softly as she plunged a finger into her warm pussy, Tharja leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. She massaged her breast with one hand, rolling her stiffening nipple between her fingers. The hand beneath the water worked steadily, plunging two fingers knuckle deep into the slickening sheath of her gripping snatch. Stretching her thumb, she wiggled it against her clit, whimpering as the fresh jolts of ecstasy radiated up from her loins. If she closed her eyes and focused solely on the pleasure, it was almost as if she wasn’t trapped within a hellish nightmare. Chewing at her bottom lip, Tharja fingered herself faster, desperate to feel one last orgasm.

Tharja’s abdominal muscles flexed, her body tensing up as the tidal wave of ecstasy finally consumed her. Her hand trembled against her chest, fingers digging in to the flesh of her tit as her aching cunt walls shivered around her probing digits. The moan spilling from her lips was one of relief and sadness as she jerked within the tub, spilling some more water over the edge. As the pleasure of her climax faded, Tharja slid her fingers out of her pussy. She felt warm. She felt satisfied. And soon, she would feel safe.

Taking the razor blade in hand, Tharja extended her arm and guided her hand to her wrist. There was a flash of pain as she dug the sharp blade into her flesh. The pain worsened as she carved up her forearm, opening up a straight line through her skin. The flow of blood came fast, spurting from severed arteries and dribbling in thick lines across the surface of the water. She gasped from the stinging pain of the cut, forcing her trembling fingers to remain steady enough as she passed the bloody razor from one hand to the other so she could repeat the cutting process on her other forearm. It was easier the second time. The rapid blood loss already had her head feeling woozy, diminishing the pain she felt.

Tharja let the razor slip from her fingers, plunking into the crimson-hued water and sink to the bottom of the tub. She let out a dazed giggle as she considered the danger of accidentally cutting herself on the thing. Leaning back in the tub, she let her bleeding arms sink into the water. She looked down the length of her body, finding it hard to see herself through the thickening haze of red filling the water. The warmth from her orgasm faded as the chill of blood loss consumed her. Her breathing grew shallow, eyelids drifting lower as her brain fogged over.

They don’t have to worry about saving me, Tharja thought as she considered the other survivors. I’m already saving myself. It was grim. She wasn’t so far gone that she didn’t realize that. But everything in the Necropolis was grim. But despite that grimness, she knew that it was the closest thing she could find to a happy ending. The closest thing she could find to a victory. Would the undead break into the Bunker? Certainly. Would one of the monstrosities perhaps find her body soaking in the tub and defile it? It seemed likely. But she’d already be gone by then. They wouldn’t make her suffer. They wouldn’t take away her dignity.

Tharja slid further into the tub, too weak to keep sitting up. The bottom of her chin touched against the crimson water. Looking out across the surface, she could see the tips of her breasts emerging like two fleshy islands each time she filled her lungs. An amused smile played across her face as she watched those islands rising and falling. Her skin grew an almost icy white as the last of her blood flowed from her slit wrists. With a sigh, the islands of her breasts vanished once more. She stared at the surface of the water, waiting for them to return for a few moments before realizing they weren’t going to. Her breaths were too shallow.

Tharja’s head rolled to the side, half-lidded eyes losing focus. Her lips blew some weak bubbles across the surface of the bloody water as her last breath escaped her lungs. Her slumped body soaked in the blend of water and blood surrounding her, a startling discovery waiting to be found. The expression locked onto her face in death was one of contentedness. Tharja had secured her escape from the Necropolis. The rest of the survivors were still looking for their own way out.