Purgatory

by Hayley Smyth

  The man repeats the lash, harder this time, swiping in the opposite direction. Metal and leather bite into my skin, tearing it open and knocks the wind from me. Falling to the floor, my head hits the hard concrete, and I can feel the same, weird sleepy feeling from last night. Using the toe of his boot, the man flips me on to my belly, and I hear them both laugh, my bottom on show for everyone. The world fades in and out, the sounds fizz and hiss as agonizing, paralyzing pain consumes me. WHIP! The cracking noise is all I hear, and then it’s dark.

  So, so dark.

  Ella - Now.

  Vladimir Chrobak was my husband. I say husband, but our marriage wasn’t legal by any means. He’d shoved a ring on my finger, raped me into submission as soon as I’d turned sixteen, and threatened to blow my brains out if I didn’t refer to him as just that. Husband. Hate wasn’t something that came to me naturally, I still stand by this, with him; however, it was all I could feel in his presence.

  The auction was one week away, and The Mansion was in full swing in preparation for the event. Vladimir was high on the adrenalin of doing what he did best. Snatching young girls, subjecting them to torture and weeks spent in captivity, and then selling them on to men just as sick and twisted, on to the highest bidder. If Vladimir loved anything more than that, it was putting on a show. He was a showman of the worst kind, and as he hung up the phone, he patted his naked lap, beckoning me to take a seat.

  The Murdoch’s were enemies and allies all rolled into one. Theirs was a complicated history of which I had little knowledge of and, to Vlad, they were handy for two things, and two things only - their loyalty and their work ethic.

  Numb, I walked towards him and turned, lowering my bare ass on top of his flaccid penis. Bile bubbled in my gut as his wrinkled hands snaked around my front, groping and tugging at my breasts.

  “Today is a good day, sweet wife,” he said, his lips pressed against my neck.

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  I felt his grin against my flesh. “Oh, you know I love nothing more than making those Murdoch’s squirm.” His hands left my breast and slipped down to my belly, his legs spread, forcing mine open, and I swallowed hard.

  “Will the new Murdoch be replacing Marco?” I asked before my stupid brain could filter it and stop it. Vlad’s rough hand flew between my legs, and with two harsh fingers, he pinched my clit, and I cried out.

  “Do not mention his name to me. That’s the only free pass you get. The next time, I’ll cut this off.” He growled and pinched me harder; all the warning I needed to keep my mouth shut.

  Since Marco had left, banished by Vladimir, a strange ending for a man, when, usually, Vladimir would rather kill a man then let him go, I tried my hardest not to think of him. There was nothing romantic between us, but I had grown close to him. Vlad had a lot more enemies than he’d care to admit, and so, in a weird way, Marco kind of slot into this role of being my protection. Some of those enemies would have loved nothing more than to put a bullet between my eyes, so Marco was hired. When working in a criminal underground, you didn’t go for the king if you wanted to send a message, oh no. You went for his queen.

  The only good thing about my baby being taken from me was that, at least, she wasn’t growing up in a world so full of violence.

  “Get yourself cleaned up.” Vlad removed his hand and pushed my back, sending me flying. I stumbled but managed to keep my footing. “Dinner will be at eight, sweet wife, so dress nicely, make a bit of an effort, yes?”

  I kept my back to him, my eyes burning holes in the wall before him. “Yes, Vladimir.”

  Behind me, I heard him dress in a hurry, and then my bedroom door slammed shut, and I was finally alone. Alone. Being alone couldn’t have come quick enough; I could just about breathe when he was nearby.

  Sighing, I headed for my bathroom and turned the shower on, twisting the dial to the temperature I knew would burn but not scald. I stepped under the water, it turned my skin red within seconds, and I used my hands to rub my thighs, the blood coming away from my legs and down the drain.

  After Vladimir had taken what he wanted from me, there was never enough soap in the world to rid me of his stink.

  Lost in my brief respite from cruel husbands and what lies beyond the door, I was startled when it flew open, banging against the wall.

  “Hey, sweetie. The men are busy, and I’m bored.” Marnie asked as I peeked out from the shower curtain. She leaned against the door, her brown hair hung in wisps down the front of her chest, her fingers playing with one thick strand.

  I shut the shower off and wriggled my fingers towards her. “Pass that towel.” She did, and I wrapped it around my frame and got out of my haven. I looked up at my friend, my only friend in the place. “You’re bored? Not sure you’ve come to the right person to help with that”

  Marnie flopped down on my bed, her pale blue dress rose up her thighs, and I felt the pang of jealousy I usually did whenever her skin was on show. For she wasn’t marked like I was. No. The man who welcomed me secondly to Purgatory treated her well. Which had surprised us all. He was a man with insatiable blood lust, and women usually ran a mile when they so much as smelt him. Marnie, however, brought out a different side to him; it was as though he enjoyed her company.

  We never spoke of the cuts and broken bones I’d received, and some things were better left unsaid. I also kept my jealous thoughts at bay, not wanting her to think I wish she received the same treatment I did.

  “It’s all business down there. Even if we just sit by the pool for a while, that will do just fine.” Marnie sat up, resting on her elbows, and a necklace I had never seen before dangled at her chest. Jewelry was prohibited unless the men needed us to dress up for whatever reason, and so this stuck out.

  I pulled the chair from my dressing table and sat down, running my fingers through my wild mane of red curls. “Where’d you get that necklace from?”

  Marnie slid her finger along the chunky, silver chain and looked at it. It was a tacky thing, two drooping angels’ wings with a blue stone in the middle. “Oh, Jozef gave it to me this morning,” her nose scrunched up. “It’s pretty ugly, ain’t it?”

  I laughed but still wondered why she was allowed to wear such a thing. I’d even had all my shoes taken away, in case I woke up feeling murderous one day and tried to stab someone with a heel. This necklace looked as though it could cause some damage. “It’s pretty huge!”

  Marnie tucked the chain away and sauntered over to me, carefree steps. “Right, I’ll let you get ready, and I’ll make some tea. Meet me outside, yeah?”

  I nodded, “Yes, I won’t be much longer.”

  Marnie turned for the door, and she grabbed the handle, looking over her shoulder at me. “I’ve missed you, Ell, that Marco had it bad for you. I’m glad he’s fucking gone; fucker would have gotten you killed.”

  He nearly did, I thought.

  The afternoon sun was shining on The Mansion when I stepped outside, a stark contrast to the darkness inside. The rays warmed me, and a gentle breeze whipped around my face, sending scents from the flowers planted either side of the grounds my way. I basked in the quiet that encompassed me.

  Marnie was sitting beside the infinity pool, her legs splayed in front of her and lips wrapped around a straw, sucking and slurping on lemon tea. An empty sun lounger sat to the right of her, and I sat myself down on it, squinting against the harsh sunlight.

  Moments like this were rare, moments where we felt…normal. Two friends enjoying the warmth and each other, and I cherished them. I never knew when Vladimir’s mood would switch and come looking for me, so I made the most of when he wasn’t nearby. With the auction next week and a new Murdoch joining us, it had kept him busy for the most part.

  “Hey, you, help yourself,” Marnie said, jerking her chin towards the tea she’d made.

  I smiled and poured myself a glass, taking a long sip, the lemon making my eyes water. It was delicious. Placing the glass on the table between us, I smoot
hed down my summer dress and got comfortable, hands resting on my belly.

  “So how are you?” Marnie asked, closing her eyes. “Anything you need to talk about?” She was referring to my latest disappearing act. After Marco was banished, Vlad had locked me up once more, for three weeks this time, and I couldn’t remember when he’d last punished me for so long.

  The bruise underneath my dress, marring my stomach burned as I wondered how I should have answered. “I’m okay; I’m alive.”

  Marnie looked over at me, raising an eyebrow. “Really?” Her head moved back towards the sun. “Well, you’re a stronger woman than me, babe.”

  “I’ll see her again one day, I know I will,” I replied.

  Was I strong? Or was I weak for never once trying to escape? For never trying to fight for my daughter the day she was taken from me. I’d just accepted it. I accepted that I could never beat the man who haunted my every waking and sleeping moment. Marco had promised me so much, promised the earth pretty much, and I’d trusted him. Completely. Unequivocally, and he’d hurt me in a way no-one who professed to love me had before.

  Well, I’d learned my lesson. I wouldn’t believe the promises from anyone but myself.

  Marnie perhaps called me strong because she didn’t know each day I woke up without my child I’d nourished in my womb, chipped away at my resolve to survive. I never showed this, though, knowing exactly how my ‘mood’ would upset Vladimir. On the outside, I probably seemed A-okay, on the inside, I was a crumpled mess.

  “Any idea what this meeting is about?” I asked, changing the subject. That got her attention.

  She sat bolt upright, swinging her legs and shifting forward so she was as close to me as possible. “Well, keep this hush, but rumor has it that Vladimir has asked for Murdoch’s only son to come and join him.”

  Jaxon? I wasn’t familiar with names, kept in the dark about most things regarding Purgatory and its operations, and that was fine. I’d remembered this name from Vlad’s phone call earlier.

  Marnie paused, waiting for my reaction when I didn’t give her one she scoffed. “Hello?” her fingers tapped my forehead, and I batted them away. “You do know the two families came to an agreement years ago, right? That Vlad would never ask for his son?”

  I shook my head. “No. Why is this a big thing? He changed his mind.”

  Marnie looked at me as though I’d sprouted five heads. “Ella, back in the day, a gentleman’s agreement was worth far more than any fucking contract. You don’t just go back on that. The Murdoch’s will be seething.” She never took a breath. “The men are worried the Murdoch’s will retaliate. Vlad isn’t, though, so he’s trying to calm them all down.”

  I frowned. “Why didn’t Vlad choose someone else? What’s he planning?”

  Marnie raised her hands. “That’s all I know; I will keep my ears peeled for you.”

  “Eyes.”

  “What?”

  “You keep your eyes peeled,” I teased.

  Marnie swatted my arm, and it wasn’t long before we settled into a comfortable silence. I didn’t want to admit how out of the loop I felt. While I did prefer not knowing all that went on in this place, sometimes I did feel stupid when everyone was talking about things I could not comment on; the question flew around my mind though, Vlad was acting out of character and the man never done that. So, what the heck was he planning?

  Later that evening, with dinner over, The Mansion began settling down for the evening. I was sat alone in my bedroom, praying that time would tick slower, prolonging another night next to my husband.

  A gentle breeze blew in from the open window, my silk shorts and vest top left my legs and arms on show, but I didn’t mind. After a day in the sunshine, I felt warm to the touch, and my fair skin was protesting against me for mistreating it. My shoulders burnt, and I had a red strip of skin across the bridge of my nose, and so I’d sat on my bed, smothering myself in some aloe vera Marnie had given me. All I could hear were the familiar sounds of the outside world.

  The Mansion was in an impenetrable fortress. Only those welcomed could gain access; no-one would dare climb the towering walls, which kept the building hidden from prying eyes. The gardens were home to trees, their names I never knew, and some of them stood taller than parts of the roofs, with their thick trunks and chunky leaves, they’d been planted many years ago for one purpose: to keep those not welcome, out.

  But the creatures that came out to play at night always found a way inside. I wasn’t sure what made the clicking noises, or the high pitched chirping, and it was of slight comfort to me. Nature came to life once The Mansion went to sleep. I often sat for hours, just listening.

  Shifting on the bed so I could get into a better position to apply the gel to my calves, something slipped from under the mattress, fluttering to the floor. My brow creased, and I stopped what I was doing.

  Bending down, I picked up the small, square, not before rubbing my hands on the towel beside me to rid them of the oily substance, and, with careful fingers, I unfolded it.

  My heart slammed to a complete stop, smashing against my ribcage as my eyes took in the beautiful face of the child on the photograph. I’d know that face anywhere. I didn’t have to have daily contact with the girl I’d birthed to know who this picture showed.

  Tears came in an instant, fat, unattractive, streaming down my cheeks, and blurring my vision. My finger brushed over her beautiful hair, her sad, dark eyes, Vladimir’s eyes, and every motherly instinct in me wanted to run to her. To hold her. To make her smile and eradicate all the sadness I could see from her, here. It was a small square picture, not big enough to make out anything about where she could have been. Her tiny, toddler body sat crossed-legged on a dirty blanket, hands clutching a teddy.

  Each breath I took hurt as I gazed at my darling daughter. I’d not seen her since the day she was born, and my, she was perfect.

  Rage quickly replaced the hurt, the grief, and it was violent. My hands shook, but I turned the photograph over, reading the words I’d noticed written on the back as I’d picked it up.

  In a blind panic, I dropped the picture and stood upright, but Vlad’s eyes followed it as it fell to the floor once more, and a grin contorted his face as he closed the door with a soft click.

  Wearing his usual Hawaiian shirt, this one bright orange, and tan colored shorts, he used his chubby fingers to unbutton his shirt. I swallowed the terror and plastered a smile on my face.

  Vlad slipped his shirt off and screwed it up, throwing it to one side, and then he was taking big steps towards me. “What was that you dropped, sweet wife?” He asked, his crooked nose bent even farther to one side as the corners of lips emerged into a bigger grin.

  I backed up, and my heart thundered like a locomotive on the run. “Oh, nothing. How was your evening?” Redirection never worked with Vladimir; I’m not sure why I still attempted it. Desperation, perhaps?

  Vladimir clicked his tongue as he stopped to let his shorts drop to the floor, his belly hunger over the waistband of his boxers, and I fought the projectile vomit that was trying to escape.

  “Oh, Ella,” he said, almost laughing. “It’s a good thing you don’t join us men on poker nights; you’d be penniless after five minutes.”

  My feet moved me backward some more until the backs of my knees hit the washing basket next to the window. Oh, god. He was going to take the only photograph of my daughter away from me.

  Please, please let it go.

  Opening his palm, Vladimir sat on the bed, and his black, soulless eyes penetrated the armor he’d forced me to build, knowing every weak point. “Pass the photograph, Ella.”

  “How do you know what it is?” I asked, cursing my stupid mouth once again.

  Vladimir threw his head back and laughed, each roll of his belly bouncing with him, and the noise pierced my skin like a warm, sharp blade. “You’ve been here thirteen years, sweet wife, and you are still amazed when I reveal what I know?” His laughter stopped as quickly
as it had started, my legs buckled beneath me. “You may think you have secrets,” he said, rising from the bed, moving towards me with each word said through his dirty, gritted teeth. “You may think that there are conversations you have that I do not know about,” he continued, coming closer still. “And you may think that I am so fucking detached from reality that I still cannot read you like a goddamn fucking book.” He was nose to nose with me now. The liquor he’d drunk all evening poured from his large, open pores, and the smell invaded my nostrils. “But you’d be sorely fucking mistaken, sweet wife.”

  With hands I hated, he reached up and cupped my face, dragging his fingernail down my cheek, scratching and marking the skin.

  My eyes slammed shut when his other hand groped at my body, squeezing with fierce fingers, and I tried to fly away to my happy place.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” His voice said into my ear, and his warm, potent breath brushed against my flesh. I cried out, whimpering as this man spoke of something he didn’t deserve to have.

  “What a shame you could never be a mother. Well, not the kind I’d want to mother my children.”

  His words hurt, but I didn’t react again, choking on the cries within me.

  “You are good for nothing, expect to fuck, make my fucking dinner, and do what you’re told. There’s no way on this earth I’d ever let you look after my children.” His hand found my throat, he squeezed, causing his words to fade in and out.

  I couldn’t stop it.

  My body lashed out of its own accord, striking him across the face. The shock of me raising my hand to him had his hand falling from my neck, and him lifting his foot and bringing it into my stomach, sending me backward, crumpling on the floor.