by Bonny Capps
I’m not sure how much time passes while I’m in this state. It feels like a dream. I could be swimming in lucid unconsciousness for all I know.
Yes. This is a dream. It must be. I’ll wake up soon.
The thought makes me smile. I think I’m smiling, at least. You can never tell in dreams.
My body is abruptly lifted and it makes my head spin. I feel something cold against my feet before being yanked forward. I believe that I’m putting one foot after the other, but I’m not sure.
I look up and see the stars before my eyes and clumsily look toward what seems to be a mansion. From there, my gaze drops further to a man’s back. He’s pulling a rope, and when my eyes follow it, I realize that it’s tied around my wrists.
He’s pulling me, yet for some reason, I can’t struggle against him.
I close my eyes for a moment, but when I open them, I’m no longer outside.
I’m walking through a long hallway. As my eyes travel to my surroundings, I see rooms on each side. Some have curtains pulled to the side, and others are closed. The rooms that are opened have people inside of them. I can’t make it out. I do hear screams, though, and I’m sure that there is blood on the floor. Again, I try to struggle and run, but I can’t.
Yes, because you are dreaming, Sofia.
Cold. Something cold beneath me. I hear my heartbeat in my ears and my body is sorer than it’s ever been. The ache in my muscles and bones is excruciating. I haven’t felt this sore even after rigorously working out to prepare for Nationals.
My mind is fuzzy, and each time I try and will my eyelids to open, I’m unsuccessful. My body feels heavy, unlike the dream that I had where I was seemingly floating.
I’m afraid that I’m still dreaming. I must be. But in dreams, can you smell your surroundings? I don’t think you can. I smell what can only be described as filth. Damp, dirty, filth.
I hear voices too. They are low, and the tongue is foreign. They are speaking Russian. I know that much because I’ve been studying the language since I’ve been here.
I can only make out certain words, “the girl” and “fresh meat.” Those are not the words that I wish to hear. I can only hope that the dream has turned to a nightmare and that I’m soon to wake-up and escape from the dark recesses of my mind.
I lay like this for some time as my body slowly comes back to life. My head is no longer spinning and the numbness that was once so inviting leaves me to the dreaded realization that this isn’t a dream.
I recall the events that led me here, and I allow the tears to seep out from below my closed eyelids. Blood … Uncle Artur lifeless on the floor … the sudden prick in my neck before my world turned into one big blur.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who took me. All I know is that I’m hundreds and hundreds of miles from home.
Alone.
I hear footsteps approaching, but I’m afraid to move or open my eyes for fear of what I might find. I know deep in my heart that my life has changed for the worst, and I’m afraid that it may be for good.
The footsteps stop and my breathing slows. I’m sure that I’m noticeably trembling, but I can only hope that this person doesn’t notice. If they do, I’m afraid that they will hurt me.
The footsteps begin again, but this time they get farther away before I hear a door open and close. Then, I’m left in the silence once more.
My eyes crack open, just enough to allow me to make out my surroundings. Panic courses throughout my body when I realize that I am in a cage fit for a large parrot. There are other cages, but only one other is occupied. It’s a boy. A skinny boy who looks no older than twelve or thirteen.
He lies on his side in a deep sleep. His bones protrude through his clothing, and I swear that I can count every single rib on his tiny body.
A dripping sound echoes throughout the concrete room and my eyes travel to a hose. My eyes follow it and I find the faucet where the water drips steadily to the cold floor below.
My breaths become hurried as I frantically sit up on my hands and knees. I can barely lift my head in this cage as my hands search erratically for an escape.
“You’re awake.”
I freeze when I hear the tiny voice, and my eyes travel to the boy as he rubs his sleepy eyes.
I crawl to him hastily and grasp the metal bars tightly as my eyes frantically search his face. “Where am I? What is this place?”
He looks toward me solemnly before his gaze drops to his lap. “They tell me nothing good about this place. They say this is the place we go to die,” he murmurs in broken English.
I don’t recognize his accent, and I find myself searching his face to determine where he’s from, but I can’t. I don’t have enough time, because once again, the door flings open.
I scramble to the back of the cage, trying to get as far away as possible, but that’s impossible with the metal bars digging into my back.
My heart threatens to beat from my chest as I watch the man bend down and retrieve the hose from the ground. He pinches it as he turns on the faucet, then he approaches me.
He kneels down, and I immediately recognize his face.
“V—Vadim?” I squeak out as I look up at him through bleary eyes.
A dark grin spreads across his face as he narrows his black eyes at me. I can see my terrified reflection in his gaze when he says, “Welcome home, krasivaya.”
Then, all I feel is the ice cold water as he sprays me down.
I scream as loud as I can, and each time I do, he aims the hose at my mouth, causing me to cough relentlessly.
Eventually, I stop screaming as I curl into myself.
I’m so cold. Not only on the outside, but the inside as well. The skinny boy’s words ring in my ears when Vadim finally stops hosing me down and leaves us alone once more in our cages.
“They say this is the place we go to die.”
It’s been almost a year since my mother died.
It’s been months since I came to Russia.
It’s been six days since my uncle was killed.
It’s been six days since I’ve been imprisoned.
It is the same routine every day. The boy is silent. He won’t say his name or where he’s from. The only thing he’s ever said to me is that this is the place we go to die. I didn’t believe him at first. I didn’t want to, but now I’m afraid that he’s right.
Every day, Vadim comes in and sprays us each down with the cold water before offering a bite of bread. He has a full loaf, but that’s all he ever offers. One solitary bite. It isn’t enough to calm our hungry stomachs. It is only enough to tease us. I’ve wanted so badly to yank the loaf from him, but that’s impossible to do through the narrow bars of this cage. He’ll allow us to use the bathroom once a day. The embarrassment got the better of me the first time when I refused to use the toilet in the corner of the room. However, when I pissed myself, the embarrassment magnified. Needless to say, I didn’t turn down another “piss break,” as Vadim calls it.
He’s cruel, and I wonder how many other cruel men there are outside of this prison. I know there are more, because I heard them that first night.
I wonder how long the skinny boy has been here. I occasionally begin to feel bad for myself, but then I stop myself when I look at his frail body. Water is the only thing that’s keeping us both alive, and we only get that when Vadim sprays us down as he taunts, “Drink up!”
My head hurts from the lack of nourishment and my body is so incredibly weak. It’s hard to struggle. It’s hard to move. At this point, it’s becoming hard to live.
Today started off like the others. I feel as though I’m losing my grasp on reality. I find myself whispering “Not today” repeatedly, because I never know when my life will end. The idea is evident. No escape is in sight.
The door opens wide, but, this time, Vadim is not alone. He is followed by a lean, muscular man. This man’s appearance is disheveled. His brown hair is messy, and his dark, cognac eyes immediately latch onto mine. The tight, whit
e tank top that he wears is sprinkled with blood—and I can make out a nautical star tattoo on each of his shoulders. He is tall, standing several inches above Vadim, and his muscular body is intimidating.
He saunters over to me slowly before kneeling down on his haunches. He takes a drag of his cigarette before blowing it in my face.
I don’t blink. I don’t budge. I’m entranced by this dangerously handsome man as he kneels before me, drinking me in with his eyes alone.
“Him,” he says to Vadim, his eyes never leaving mine.
My eyes snap to the skinny boy as Vadim approaches him. “No!” I exclaim as I watch him yank the boy from the cage.
The boy doesn’t fight back, and I know it’s because he’s too weak.
My breaths become frantic as I rattle the bars of my cage. “Leave him alone! Please!”
Nobody bats an eye, not even the boy as his solemn eyes find mine one last time before he is dragged from the room.
I slump down as the sobs rack through my body. “Why?” I wail repeatedly.
The man still kneels before me as he smokes his cigarette. He watches me while I come undone, but he seems to care less.
When voice becomes raw, I can’t scream anymore. My chest shakes with each silent sob as I stare at the boy’s empty cage.
The man remains. He doesn’t say a word. He just watches and waits. I dare myself to look into his impassive gaze.
“Why am I here?” I rasp as I slowly sit up.
He runs a hand over his face, but doesn’t answer when Vadim comes into the room once more. Standing abruptly, he approaches Vadim and whispers something in his ear. Vadim doesn’t look enthused as he throws his hands up and says something in Russian. He’s talking so fast I can’t make out the words.
The man quickly grabs Vadim around the throat before slamming him against the wall. Again, I can’t make out what they are saying, their voices are so low.
The man leaves and Vadim narrows his eyes at me.
I cower in the cage as he stalks toward me. He yanks me from the cage and throws me down at his feet before tangling his fingers in my hair and yanking my head back.
“This is your lucky day, but believe me when I say—it is only a matter of time,” he breathes into my ear before I’m jerked from the ground and dragged from the room.
My eyes travel around the white, tiled bathroom. It’s clean, almost to the point of sterilization. The bleach burns my nose.
I wrap my arms around myself as I turn to face Vadim.
“What do you want me to do?”
He smiles wickedly as he nods to the shower. My gaze follows his as I nod my head slowly. “Okay, I’ll shower. Alone.”
He chuckles before lighting a cigarette. “I’m staying right here.”
My eyes flit from the door and then back to him. I’m out of the cage. This has to be my only chance to escape. I don’t know where to run, but it’s worth a shot.
“You want to run? Go ahead? Just hope that I catch you before Andrei or Vlad. They would love to play with you, little American doll.” He runs the hot end of the cigarette against the tile wall before successfully flicking it into the toilet. “Little American dolls are worth a lot of money. My cousin is an idiot for deciding to keep you. You were perfect for the next tape. Now I’ll need to find another blonde American to take your place.”
“T–tape?” I whisper as my eyes grow wide.
A depraved smile spreads across his face. “Yes,” he whispers as he slowly approaches me. “The tape. You were meant to be the star. The best that I’ve ever captured.”
I back into the cold wall as he gets closer and closer. His chest crushes mine and I feel his breath spread over my neck. “I wonder what your cold, lifeless body would look like. I wonder what words would be the last to whisper from your lips … I wonder ….”
I shudder as a tear rolls down my cheek.
He steps back and looks down at me with those black eyes. “And I will continue to wonder, krasivaya. If you are a smart girl, you will not run. If you run, you will die.”
“Why? Why are you doing this? I’ve never done anything to you,” I rasp.
He smiles. “Why? Why what? Take you? That’s simple.”
I tilt my head as I watch his expression darken before he whispers, “Because I wanted to.”
I’m sitting in a room. This room is dark, other than the fire that flickers across the way, but I’m still freezing as the remaining rivulets of water stream from my blonde locks before dripping onto the black silk robe that Vadim had me wear.
The room is decorated much like the rest of this place. I can barely remember what the exterior looked like when I was originally brought here, but the interior is classic. It's worlds away from the cage that I was imprisoned in below this home’s mahogany floors.
Tall paintings line the halls of different men. They all look powerful and intimidating. Based on their clothing alone, I can tell they each come from different eras in time.
There are antique Soumak rugs strategically placed throughout this home and almost every room that I’ve seen has a fireplace with a blazing, roaring fire. The wooden floors are polished to perfection and numerous statues, vases, and other pieces of art are showcased throughout.
The room that I’m currently occupying is full of beautiful antiques. The bed alone is probably worth more money than I can even imagine. The four carved posts stand tall, almost touching the ceiling as a white, sheer fabric hangs down surrounding the bed.
I trace my fingers over one particular piece of furniture; a desk. I believe they call this style marquetry … beautifully crafted from various colored pieces of wood. The design is intricate. A skilled craftsman made this, and I notice many of the other pieces are of the same design. The desk is smooth to the touch, and shiny to the point that I can see the outline of my reflection.
My eyes travel to a large tapestry which hangs from the wall. It looks like a coat of arms; a two headed bird with a crest in the middle stitched with gold thread.
I walk to the window and peer out. This place is enormous. I think I’m several stories up, so jumping is definitely out of the question. The ground below is covered in snow and there is a metal privacy fence—too tall to climb—surrounding this place. Though, that’s not what would render my escape. No. It’s the armed men who are obviously patrolling the place.
“Where am I?” I whisper to myself.
So many questions circulate in my head as I watch the snow fall beyond the glass of my prison. Why did they kill my uncle and take me? What happened to the skinny boy? What tape was Vadim talking about?
I gasp and turn on my heel when I hear the lock turn.
The man with the bloody shirt stands in the doorway. He doesn’t say a word. He only watches me silently. I consider running past him, but Vadim’s words whisper in my ears.
“If you run, you will die.”
Obviously, there isn’t any talking sense into that psychopath, but what about this man?
Handsome, yes. He is darkly handsome, but is he sane? I highly doubt it.
I’m smart. I was a straight A student. I’ve made rational decisions my entire life thanks to my mother’s guidance. What would she do? Would she run?
No. My mother never cowered in fear. She was the strongest person that I’ve ever known. She would have twisted this man’s mind inside-out. He’s some type of leader in all of this. It’s him that I need to win. Not Vadim. Not the others.
Vadim said that this man decided to keep me. Why? Well, I’m not stupid. I know I’m here for one thing. To please him.
Placing both hands on the window sill behind me, I awkwardly stick my chest out and force a sweet smile across my face.
He tilts his head slightly as he watches me. He’s intrigued. This is good.
I take a deep breath before pushing off of the window sill and taking a step forward. “H–hi,” I whisper as I fiddle with my fingers nervously in front of me. Every ounce of resolve that I’d built up begin
s to drain away as he drinks me in with his cognac colored eyes. They trace every single inch of my body.
I had concocted an entire speech. I’d beg for my release. I would leave and never tell a soul, but when he begins stalking towards me, I have no words … I have not a single rational thought traveling through my head right now. I know only him in this moment. His presence within the walls of this room is impenetrable. He’s somehow cloaked my decidedness without a single word.
He stands merely inches away as I stare at his chest. My eyes trace each bloodstain before they travel to his mysterious eyes. His impassive state is bulletproof. There isn’t any fooling him. In fact, I somehow come to believe that by even attempting to fool this man, I’d become the fool.
My mouth falls open, allowing a gasp to escape my lips as he grasps my arms in his powerful hands. Goosebumps spread across my body. Not from the cold, but from his touch.
“I … please,” I breathe out.
Leaning down, he brushes his nose against mine. My head falls back as his breath spreads over my lips.
Placing his hand over the small of my back, he pulls me to him as his free hand tangles in my hair.
“Let me go,” I rasp as my eyes roll to the back of my head.
The sensation is overwhelming. If he can do this to me with an embrace alone, what could he do otherwise? I feel so dirty and depraved for feeling this way, but I can’t focus. Not now.
“I will not,” he says simply as he massages the back of my scalp. His fingers dig into my back as he holds me against him possessively.
“Why?”
I can’t pull my eyes from his as he whispers, “Because I saw you.”
Then his lips find mine, and I don’t stop him. I don’t stop him when he parts my lips with his tongue, and I don’t stop him when his tongue tangles with mine.
I don’t stop him because I want him.
My hands hesitantly creep up his muscular arms. I feel his power beneath my fingers as I grasp his broad shoulders.
He leads us to the bed before he pulls away and grasps my waist. The bed is soft beneath me as my back hits the mattress. He crawls over me before looking down at me.