A Ukrainian Girl (Part 2)

I am Taras and the captain who fired the fatal shot into the Ukrainian girl attempting to escape. If the young soldier had done his job, I wouldn’t have been involved at all.    
   
I knelt over the limp girl’s form. She’d fallen face-first into the street. I rolled her to her back and was surprised that there wasn’t more injury to her face. My eyes were drawn to her breasts. They were lovely behind her white cotton blouse. She wore no bra.    
   
“What are you doing?” the young soldier asked.    
   
“I’m inspecting your kill.”    
   
“My kill? Me? I didn’t want her to die,” said the young man.    
   
“Of course you didn’t. You stuck your bayonet into her side by mistake? Then, you couldn’t make her follow your command? Shut up fool!”    
   
The kid stood silently as I placed my fingers over her nose to feel for breath. There was none. Her eyes were open toward the dark sky. They were deep brown and still wet from her tears.    
   
I brushed dirt from her cheeks and then let my fingers linger against the side of her neck. It was so frail and slender and reminded me of Mariia, my first love. We said it, MAH-ree-ah, and I said her name often when we were young.    
   
“What are you doing?” the young soldier said again almost crying.    
   
“I’m doing my job and seeing after this girl,” I said.    
   
“Shouldn’t we fill out the report for civilian death?”    
   
“Shut up! Perhaps you’d like to walk down to her home and visit with the family.” I placed my arms underneath the girl and stood with her. She was light. Completely soft and limp.  
   
“Are you taking her to her family?”    
   
“Do you know nothing of of war?” I demanded.    
   
He looked on silently as I walked toward a partially bombed apartment building. I knew there were beds there and places to be alone with this girl who reminded me of my Mariia.    
   
There was a master bedroom still intact. It even had family photos on the wall. I laid the girl on the bed and then inspected the photos. There was a father and mother with three children. Their oldest was similar in age to this girl. I wondered if any of them were still alive.    
   
I moved in close to the photo and spoke to the father. “I’m sure you won't mind if we use your bed, kind sir.” He smiled back silently.    
   
With my canteen, I cleaned the girl’s side and back while wondering about her family and what they might be thinking about her right then. Mariia was going to be my wife until she met another man who took her for his own. Their love later dissolved, but she never came back to me since I was an officer by then.    
   
I began to think of the pleasure this naked girl could give me even in her death. I pulled off my pants and let my hardened cock dangle over her young face imagining what pleasures she could have given if she'd lived. She was so like my Mariia.    
   
I bent down and said, "Dear young one, you have one more more duty to the Russian Army and I thank you for your service."    
   
Her face was unchanged at my words. Her lips were without smile or frown. She seemed peaceful. I placed my hands over her breasts, now cold but so beautiful.    
   
From the hallway, I heard the rattle of a rifle. Had the young soldier followed me? I’d kill him and justify it by his unjust killing of this girl.    
   
I turned toward the door and saw only the flash of his muzzle.