by Box Set
The images turn into a video. She slices open throats with one clean swipe of her sword, punishment for those who have done her master wrong. She cuts out hearts to prove that she does not have one.
“She's no longer responsive to fear,” Maksim says. He un-cuffs me from the chair, peels the tape off my eyes, and stares at my deadpan face. “Perfect.”
Charlie...I suddenly think of him. I visualize I'm smiling at him, reaching out to touch him but he's just too far away. He is the muse of my affections. I don't think I've ever cared so much about someone in all my life.
“Please stop,” I beg for Maksim's voice playing on repeat to just stop, curled up in the corner of my cell. My hair is just past my shoulders, and I'm nothing but flesh and bones.
How did I get here?
A small window up on the back wall brings in a channel of daylight. Dust is trickling through the air, small particles of dirt that are visible in the light. I gaze around, my tear varnished eyes recognizing everything. This cell was my captivity until I was fourteen. There are numbers written in white chalk all over the dark brick walls, some smeared because the ceiling is leaking, water dripping down in places.
The dripping drives me insane.
I wrote those numbers. Maksim said they were secret agent codes and that it was my job to remember them all. To prove I could, I covered my cell, the order of sequence just like it was written down in the file. My hands rubbed against the chalk for so long that I had sores on my palms. The sores bled but I kept going.
“You're becoming a good fighter, girl,” Demetrius says, dragging me to another memory. He's my trainer, a famous Asian Wing Chun artist known throughout the underworld.
“I'm learning from the best,” I tell him, flexing my hands because my knuckles hurt.
“Yes, you are,” he says, panting for breath as we stand opposite each other. The space under Maksim's house where we train, just down the hall from my cell, is huge but you can't see how high because the ceiling is pitch black. “Maybe one day, you'll beat me,” he adds with sarcasm.
I attack him then, going for his face but I change my attack at the last minute.
The images in my mind zoom in and out of focus.
“This is James,” Maksim says, introducing him to both Demetrius and me. “He will be training with you.”
We look at each other as the seconds tick by, while Maksim is ordering Demetrius to teach James one style of fighting, to kill. James is wearing a leash that's attached to a black leather collar wrapped around his neck and a pair of black trousers, nothing else. He's slender, and I imagine hungry. His skeleton ribcage is a disgusting sight, the bones all but screaming their way out of his tightened flesh. He eventually lifts his lips in a smile like he knows me, and I blink at him with confusion, glaring in character. He doesn't know me. I don't even know myself.
The only thing I know is Maksim.
Numb to emotions, I stand there day after day, night after night, and watch Demetrius beat James half to death. He will keep beating him half to death until James fights back.
James begins to fight back, and I feel admiration for him. It's the first thing I remember feeling except for fear.
When we're alone after training, he starts talking to me, asks if I know who I am.
“Blaire, when I'm bad,” I say, because my master has told me I can talk to him. “My Little Pet, when I'm good.”
“It's the same for me,” he says. “Though I'm just called, My Pet.”
“We should leave,” James says from within my cell this time, as we flicker to another time. He's pointing at the open cell door—my cell door—shaking from head to toe. “Now's our chance.”
My instincts come over me for the first time, like a red mist erupting.
“I will never leave Maksim.” I shove James up against the damp, watery wall with my forearm pressed across his now strapping chest, growling in his face, “Disloyalty means punishment! Disloyalty means punishment!”
“He won't know.” James begs for me to just leave with him. “We won't get another chance!”
“There's nothing out there for us without Maksim.” My voice comes out detached, but this is me now. “If we're good, we're rewarded with his good mood. If we're bad, you know what happens.”
“You've passed,” Maksim says from behind. “Take the boy and tag him.”
After this, I see more. So much more. The years go by in my mind faster than I thought they would.
Maksim leaves me out in the cold unmanned. It's dark and I can hear rustling in the nearby bushes. He's testing me again. Though I remain on alert incase trouble breaks out, I don't move. I stand there under the trees in my master's garden until he returns and pets me.
In Russia, it's so cold. My teeth chatter and I can feel the chill in my bones. Maksim leaves me outside Tatiana's house to stand guard. That's when I hear them, the Turks, speaking badly about my master and his master. I pull a knife from my belt and give the first Turk a smiley, slicing through his mouth, unresponsive to the blood pouring over my hands. I cut out the next Turks tongue, so he cannot speak poorly of my people again, then I shove it down his throat. James watches me, doing nothing.
My reward doesn't come but neither does a punishment, so I'm okay.
I flash to a corner in my cell, cowering under Maksim looming over me, disappointment ruling his expression. His eyebrows are drawn together, making him look evil. He pulls up the zipper of his trousers.
“I'm sorry,” I sob, sliding down the cold, damp wall. I stuff my head in my naked knees as I pull them up to my chest. “I'm sorry for saying no.”
“Please don't hurt her.” James stands there in the doorway, pleading with glossy blue eyes to our master. “I'll do whatever you want, just please, don't hurt her.”
It's just about to happen—the first time I ever see Maksim fuck James—and then, I go to a place where I want to be this time. I dream I'm lying in bed with Charlie, embraced in his arms. He's playing with my hair, his fingers running through the strands. Maksim is nowhere to be seen, and I like the idea. It's just us.
“Don't leave me,” Charlie whispers in his familiar, raspy voice. Cupping my face in one large hand, he turns me into him, putting us eye to eye. His are glowing with fear, bluer than I've ever seen them.
Why the fear?
“You hear me?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Don't. Leave. Me. Blaire. Stay with me!”
Why would I leave him? I'm not missing a moment of this.
I sigh with contentment and snuggle in his masculine chest, but then somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm sad. I can't feel how warm he is. I can't smell him.
It didn't happen like this. I could always feel and smell him.
———
“Wake up, My Little Pet.” Maksim's voice resounds as if under water. “Wake up.”
I feel like I'm under water, hovering in and out of certainty. I pull at my hands but I'm paralyzed, my limbs heavy and restrained by numbness. I must be dead—Maksim shot me—but there's a dull ache in my stomach and a tight hotness across my lower back. The pain forces me to register that I'm still alive.
I pull again. Nothing. It's exhausting. My breath is woozy as I breathe in steadily, whistling from the deep of my throat. I can smell burnt flesh and warm metal. I try to open my eyes. They flutter and spasm but won't open fully. I'm so tired. So tired.
“I won’t let him hurt you anymore.” James fought valiantly, and I think Maksim shot him for it.
“I'm going to leave and wait for you by the river.” Charlie is waiting for me. I need to go to him. But I’m too exhausted to battle.
“Get the doctor.” Maksim's words wave through the air in vibrations. “She needs stitches.”
Strong hands close around my wrists and ankles, elevating my body. Taut heat races across my lower back like fire. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts so much that I have to forcefully center myself on the weightless sensation of being carried through the air. But then I'm dropped onto a hard, fla
t surface, whacking my forehead against the pane.
“Awh!” I gasp out, my skull throbbing.
The surface is cold, making me aware that my skin is clammy and sweaty, my face soaked in damp lengths of hair. I try to bend my knees so I can get up, but the pain in my stomach is excruciating. I heave against the agony, trying to add pressure to the wound but I can't move. Why the fuck can't I move?
“Wipe up the blood,” Maksim says.
I'm still bleeding? That's not good.
Charlie…He has to know that I care about him. Before I die, he has to know. And I must find James. I need to know that he's still alive.
Pushing into the hard surface, I strain against my own heaviness. I will myself to get up and fight free of Maksim so I can see Charlie just one last time and find James, but I fall back down with a heavy thud.
Fuck. I really am so, so tired.
I suck in another whistling breath to gather my strength, my head hazy, stuffed with cotton wool.
I need to get up. I need to get up. Come on, Blaire, get up!
I struggle against the surface once more, but then—wa-tch! I jolt in reaction to the hot lick of a belt across my back, enhancing the ache in my stomach with the sudden movement. It's not a dull ache anymore. It pulses with fire.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Blaire,” Maksim says from a distance.
I blink open my eyes, though all I can see is blackness.
“Cэp...Maksim?” I croak out, turning my face to the left where his voice came from.
“Yes, Blaire, it’s me, your master.” His gargling voice comes from the right this time. “Now you're fully awake, I'll make you completely mine.”
I want to cry because I know this is going to be hell.
“Let us first list your wrongdoings—”
Wa-tch!
“A whip for talking back to me.”
Wa-tch!
“A whip for refusing to end that Latin piece of shit.”
Wa-tch!
“A whip for refusing me.”
Wa-tch!
“Awh, please”—I sob too hard, trembling and flinching—“please, please, stop!”
“Stop? Do you know what you've caused?” he says with strange calmness. “I'm in hiding, since your lover wants my head on a spike.”
Wa-tch!
“Agh!” I groan, sob, and scream because each lashing is harder than the next. It goes on and on, sending me into a fucked up zone. At some point, I think I pass out until—
WA-TCH!
“Ouch—aargh!” I grab the edges of the surface, my entire body shuddering awake. That’s the hardest blow yet.
“Ahhh, you are still awake then?” Maksim says from beside me, his chest heavy with pants. “I was starting to worry.”
Click, click. I hear the faint hissing of a flame. My mind is too messed up to really register what's going on. I smell metal being warmed up, the metallic scent almost strong enough to taste. I remember the smell from when Maksim burned an M into my back.
“It's time for the last few letters,” Maksim says with lust in his voice. “Stay still, Blaire,” he warns, and then he burns my lower back with a scorching branding iron.
“AARGH!” I scream through gritted teeth, clawing at the surface I'm lying on. I can't move because my limbs still feel tied down. I manage to shake from left to right, thrusting my hips trying to get free, but my efforts are useless.
“How does that feel, My Little Pet?” Maksim says, laughing at me. “Like home?”
He peels the branding iron off my skin and I slump in relief, panting like a dog, cool sweat veiling my flesh.
I want to scream some more but I just can't, so I suffer in the silence of pain.
“Cэp...Maksim,” I gasp his name, turning my head to the other side, wheezing for breath. “Why?”
“Why? It's the age old question, isn't it, My Little Pet?”
I can hear sizzling and feel pure heat beside my face.
“Once my name is burned into your flesh”—Maksim strokes wet lengths of hair back out of my face—“you'll know who you belong to.”
“Your name?” I ask in horror. “You're burning the rest of your name into—Aargh!” I scream out desperately as he puts the hot iron to my skin again. It crackles, melting through layers of flesh. I beg him to stop. I beg him to forgive my disobedience. “I’m so fucking sorry!” I have no idea where my vocal strength has come from, but it's useless. I'm drowning in my own pleas.
“I'll stop when I know you're loyal to me again, Blaire.” He holds the iron to my skin for longer this time, causing me to blackout from the pain.
I wake to cold droplets of water raining down on my skin. I sigh, basking in the tenderness.
“Cэp Ma-Maksim?” I croak his name, wondering if it's him treating me. Please don't let it be him. Please, please don't let it be him.
“Yes, it's me,” he husks, and I whimper, all hope of being free of him fading. He kisses between my shoulder blades, making me wince. Then a cool waterfall washes over me. “It feels good, doesn't it, My Little Pet?”
I moan, wishing for more cold water, and he lays a heavy, cool piece of material over my wounded back. That’s when my mind propels to where the darkness is.
36
The next time I wake up, the room is spinning and I'm trembling uncontrollably.
I pant so hard to catch a breath, feeling as though my heart is pulsing on the outside of my ribcage.
What's wrong with me?
Closing my eyes, I try to center my world and focus on my breathing but I can't. If anything, I'm panting faster now, drying out my throat. There's a hot sensation in me, too. I am burning from the inside out, warm sweat trickling down the sides of my face, gathering near my eyes.
High temperature, abnormal breathing, and abnormal heart rate...I'm in trouble. If I can't control my own body, I know I'm in trouble.
The first thing I do is push against the bed I'm lying on to rise on all fours. I'm no longer tied down. I pull up my knees to rest on them, but my stomach throbs and my back is so raw and taut that I sob out in pain.
Hunched over on my palms, gasping through my nose, the torture comes back to me in flashes of white light.
The gun shot.
The beatings.
The branding.
What has Maksim done to me?
Peering through hazy eyes, I glance about. I'm alone in a strange bedroom with gleaming white walls that won't still—and again, I realize I'm not tied up.
I need to get out of here while I can. I need to get away from Maksim. He's never been so violent in such quick succession, and I've never felt so disorientated.
Rolling onto my side, I fall off the bed and hit the floor.
“Aargh!” I screech, my knees and palms buried in glass. The wound on my stomach pulses, and I vaguely feel blood slithering down my navel.
I try to ignore the pain and the blood because I need to focus. I need to get out of here before Maksim returns.
Trembling with fatigue, I fight to my feet, groaning through closed teeth as I stand on the broken pieces of glass, each shard piercing the soles of my feet.
Why is the floor covered in broken glass?
My head swirls when I'm upright. I press a hand to the wall but slide against the smooth surface, my hand seeping with blood.
I don't understand what's wrong with me. I've not been drugged. I know that feeling all too well. No. This isn't the sensation of being drugged. This is an illness.
Blinking about, I search for some clothes because I'm naked. Even my bracelet is gone.
My bracelet.
Charlie.
My heart twists, but I urge myself to pay attention. I can find Charlie when I'm out of here. Hopefully, he knows where James is. Hopefully, James is still alive.
Stretching across the far back wall are a collection of white doors. Wardrobe doors? They're too far away. One step, and I'm walking on glass. At the foot of the bed, there's a white shirt.
I fall onto the bed with a bounce, enhancing the throbbing in my stomach. I shuffle for the shirt and slip my hands down the arm holes, struggling to shift it up over my shoulders. Every motion is agony, drawing my focus to the splits across my back. As I button myself up, I'm very aware that the cold material clings to my back, like it's soaking through with water or something.
Blood. It has to be blood.
Before I get up again, I try once more to calm my heart rate and my breathing, but neither will slow. I touch my chest, feeling my heart hammering against my palm. Maybe Maksim has drugged me? That's all I can make sense of. If he has, that means my mind will be clear in a few hours. I just need to find a few hours of freedom then I can battle for more.
Thinking on a subconscious level, I knock the pillows off the bed, onto the floor, and use them as a bridge to walk over the glass. My legs are fragile, rickety under me, and I go off balance as my feet sink into the pillows, soaking them through with blood.
At the door, I pull down the handle and stagger out of the bedroom, clutching my stomach.
Music. I can hear music booming from downstairs. A party. That means Maksim will be excited on drugs and booze.
I swallow past the dry-tightness in my throat, willing myself to be as quiet as a mouse. Gripping the banister, I stumble down the stairs and across a small oval entrance hall, my vision a mazy vapor. Everything is enhanced with colors, giving me double vision.
Front doors. I blink a few times. Definitely front doors. Pulling down the handles, I yank them open and fall through, landing on my bloody palms. I don't scream out, even though I want to. That hurt. With a heavy, pounding head, I negotiate to my feet and stagger across a paved driveway, between tons of flashy cars, leaving a trail of blood in my wake.
The air is so cold it's hard to handle, making my eyes feel like balls of ice in their sockets.
A country lane. I gasp in relief, though I have no idea where I am. I'm not near London, that much I'm sure of.
It's dark. The trees are tall and thick, clawing over me. As I stumble onward, the moon flickers through the leaves in silver streams of light.