by Lovell, LP
And me…I’ve heard stories of The Volynschik. The children he takes are never seen again. A tear tracks down my face and I swallow around the painful lump in my throat. I jump when the door screeches and then opens. The second I see him, the fear grips me so hard I think I’m going to be sick. A horrible smile pulls at his lips as he comes to a stop a few feet away from me. I curl into an even tighter ball, trying to make myself smaller. Another man walks into the room, lingering by the door.
“Hello, child. My name is Erik.” The Volynschik has a name. I drop my gaze to a spot on the bed directly beside me. I don’t want to look at him and I don’t want him to look at me, to see me.
“She’s pretty.” The other man says in a way that makes me shiver in fear.
“Why do you think I brought her back?” He laughs. “Stand up, girl.” He barks, but I don’t move. I can’t move. My limbs are locked in place. I yelp when he reaches for me, grabbing a handful of my hair and dragging me off the bed roughly. My knees collide with the concrete floor and pain ricochet’s up my legs. His boots are right in front of me. I want to get as far away from him as possible, but I stay still, staring at the floor as tears track down my cheeks steadily. He drops to a crouch and his calloused fingers grip my jaw, forcing my face up. I slam my eyes closed and he laughs.
“Close your eyes all you like. Do you remember what I told you?” I say nothing, but feel his hot smoke scented breath on my face. “I promised I’d break you.” He whispers. The words trigger something in me and animal instincts kick in. I wrench my face away from him and scramble backwards, pushing to my feet and pressing myself against the wall in the far corner of the room. His laughter echoes around the small space and a frustrated cry leaves my lips. I’m not getting out of here. Two grown men, against me, a girl. He’s going to break me and probably kill me, or worse, make me a whore. I know all about these things, the places they send girls my age. I’d rather die.
His laughter cuts off and he storms across the room, reaching for me. I lash out at him, but it’s a pathetic attempt. Gripping the top of my t-shirt, he tears it apart, straight down the middle. I yelp and curl in on myself, covering my body from him.
“She hasn’t even got tits yet.” His friend says, spitting on the ground.
Erik grabs my hair, pulling my head back so hard that I cry out as I’m forced onto my knees in front of him. He steps close and pulls me into him until my cheek is pressed against his crotch. “I don’t mind.” He laughs. Bile burns the back of my throat and I fight the impending panic that makes me want to curl into the foetal position and just blank it all out. For a few seconds my mind tells me to just accept it, that this is what I must do to survive, but the second the thought crosses my mind, I recoil from it in disgust. I snarl and lash out, punching him between his legs. His hold on my hair becomes so painful that I scream, but then he lets go. Staggering back, he sucks in ragged breaths, cupping his crotch. I know it will be short lived, but I bask in the small victory for a second.
“You little bitch! Hold her.” It all happens at once. The concrete floor hits my back. Hands grab at my arms and body, pinning me down. I scream and my nails rake over skin. Erik’s body falls over mine like a lead weight and hot breath blows over my face making me wretch. I kick and lash out and when it does nothing, the tears blind me. He pulls at my jeans so hard my entire body jerks and he’d drag me across the floor if it weren’t for the other man holding me down. He throws my jeans to the side and I try to pull away, to curl my bare legs closer to my body. Fingers wrap around my ankles, wrenching them apart. A sickening grin works over his face and it feels as though someone has a hold of my heart, squeezing it in their fist. He reaches for my cotton panties and I manage to work one arm free, swinging at him and slapping him across the cheek. My palm meeting his cheek sounds like a thunder clap in the room. His hand slams around my throat and he snarls in my face, spraying spit over me. I gasp for breath, bucking my body uselessly. He rolls his hips between my legs, groaning as black spots dot my vision.
“Enough!” The voice comes from the doorway and Erik stills. The guy holding me down releases me as if I’m on fire. “Get off her.” The voice says. Erik flashes me one last glance and pushes to his feet. I sit up and scramble backwards into the corner of the room, holding the tattered pieces of my shirt together as I pull my knees to my chest. I don’t want to be here. I want to be anywhere but here. Pressing my face against my knees, I close my eyes. I imagine I’m back at the orphanage with Anna sitting next to me, her sweet smile on her face.
Something brushes my knee and I whimper, lifting my face. A man crouches in front of me. He has dark hair with a few gray streaks at his temple, and eyes the same colour as a stormy sky. He wears a suit with a waist coat beneath his jacket and a red tie knotted neatly at his throat. A small smile touches his face and his eyes meet mine, watching me for so long that I have to look away. He doesn’t try to touch me though. Slowly, he reaches inside his jacket pocket and takes out a lollipop, offering it to me. I frown, confused. I don’t trust him and I don’t take it from him. He shrugs and takes off the wrapper, popping it in his mouth before he slides his jacket off his shoulders and slowly drapes it around me. I grab the two sides and pull them together, covering my entire body inside the material.
“What’s your name?” He asks. I don’t respond, and he lowers himself to the ground, sitting on the dirty concrete in his nice suit, propping his back against the bed. All I can hear is him sucking on the lolly. “My name is Nicholai.” He stretches his legs out and crosses one ankle over the other. “Nicholai Ivanov.”
“Una.” I whisper.
“You’re strong. A fighter.” He says, holding the bright red lolly in front of his face and inspecting it.
“Please let me go.” I whisper, fighting back tears. “I want to see my sister.”
He tilts his head to the side, rubbing a hand over his chin. “It’s the strong that survive in this world, Una. And the weak…they die, forgotten and inconsequential.” I sweep my hair back behind my ear and he tracks the movement. “I can offer you the greatest gift of all, little dove. I can make you strong.”
“How?”
A smile pulls at one side of his mouth. “I can make you a warrior.” He stands up and offers me his hand. “If you survive…and I truly hope you do, little dove.”
* * *
I put my jeans back on and Nicholai leads me up a set of stairs into what looks like a normal house, except it has a prison in the basement. There are lots of women here, most of them wearing nothing but their underwear. They all smile at Nicholai, some wave or blow him kisses. Men with guns stand in doorways, and they all bow their heads as he passes them. I cling to his hand. I don’t trust him, but I trust them less. After all, isn’t Erik one of them? And Nicholai saved me from him.
When we step outside one of the men call to him and he turns around. “I’m taking this one.” He places a hand on top of my head and I want to shrug out from under his touch but I don’t.
The man looks at me and an amused smirk appears on his face. “That one?” He laughs. “Boss…”
“Borris, do I look in need of your opinion.” The hand falls from my head as he steps forward, staring at the man. He’s still sucking on that lollipop, and he releases it with a pop. He says nothing, just stares.
“No, boss.” He mumbles.
“Good.” He presses a hand to my back and starts walking me in the opposite direction. “Come, little dove.”
He walks to a black sports car and holds the door open for me. I get in and he leans across me, grabbing the seat belt and fastening it before closing the door. I have no idea where he’s taking me but it has to be better than staying here with Erik. I don’t have a lot of options right now.
4
“Life - the way it really is- is not a battle between bad and good, but bad and worse.” - Joseph Brodsky
We drive over night and eventually I fall asleep. When I wake up, the night sky is turning to gray.
The radio is turned down low and Nicholai taps his fingers on the steering wheel, humming along with the song. I focus my gaze out the window, shivering just at the sight of the snow clinging to the ground. I wrap my arms around myself, snuggling into the enormous suit jacket that hangs from my shoulders.
We drive down a long deserted road, lined with trees that give way to the forest. Their branches slump heavily under the weight of the snow, which glows in the darkness, reflecting the moonlight. It looks enchanting and scary, yet somehow peaceful. Eventually we pull up to a tall gate, set into a chain link metal fence, topped with razor wire. I can’t see what’s on the other side as a flurry of snow crosses the path of the headlights. A single guard with a rifle approaches the window. He looks freezing, huddling into his puffy jacket as a stream of misted breath leaves his lips. Nicholai rolls the window down and a flurry of bitter cold air rushes in, making me shiver. He barely glances at Nicholai before running to get the gate like a frightened mouse.
“Who are you?” I ask so quietly I’m not sure if he really heard me.
He tilts his face towards me and a small smile touches his lips. “I’m Nicholai Ivanov.”
“What do you do?” I rephrase.
He sighs. “I do lots of things, little dove. You will learn all about it very soon. You’re going to work for me.”
I swallow nervously and the car pulls forward again. “Doing what?” I whisper.
“I’m not sure yet, but train hard, fight as if your life depends on it and maybe you’ll become everything you could possibly dream of.” He smiles. The car stops and I finally tear my gaze from his gray eyes. My door opens from the outside and a man in gray, blue and white military uniform stands on the other side, waiting for me. I shoot a worried glance back to Nicholai. “I will be back for you very soon, little dove. Remember what I said. Fight.” The soldier grabs my arm and pulls me from the car. I want to cry at the freezing cold air biting at my cheeks. The door slams shut behind me and the engine revs before it pulls away, wheels spinning and spraying snow everywhere. I’m alone, miles from my sister and once again terrified of the unknown situation I’m about to walk into.
“Move.” The soldier thrusts the barrel of his gun into my back and I fall forwards a step, scrambling to get away from him. The building in front of me looks like some kind of military base, like a hangar of sorts, buried amongst the snow as though it’s a part of the landscape. It’s well hidden and apparently guarded. Where the hell am I?
* * *
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Another concrete room, another prison. Nicholai never came back. There are no windows in here and I have no idea if it’s night or day. My captors bring me food three times a day, and that’s my only measure of time passing, my only form of routine, but I’m starting to think that’s unreliable. Sometimes it feels as though the meals are only five minutes apart. I think I’ve been here for ten days. I think. They leave the lights on all the time, which makes it difficult to sleep, and when I do fall asleep, they wake me up. They shout at me for no reason and tell me they’re going to kill me. Sometimes they simply drop food inside the door and leave, others they come in and beat me for no reason.
I’m tired and confused, and my entire body aches. I just want it all to end. I live in this constant state of apprehension, trying to guess what’s coming next, but whatever I think they’re going to do, it’s always wrong. Why would Nicholai do this to me? He betrayed me. I trusted him. That was my mistake. Trust. Why would he bring me here? But then, why wouldn’t he? If there is one thing I’ve learned in my short life it’s that people are inherently evil. They want to hurt others, and they want you to be weak and vulnerable so you’re that much easier to prey on. I wish I could say that I was strong, and in the orphanage I was. For Anna. This is different. The matron couldn’t kill me. These people can and they will. I see it in their eyes. I find myself becoming paranoid, waiting for the day that they open that door, put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.
I jump when the door clicks open. The same guy as always steps inside with a tray of food.
“Please.” I beg him. “I can’t take any more.” I’ve resorted to this, to begging. Even if they kill me, it has to be better than this, than the torture. I fear death but I fear this more, this unending cycle, the waiting, the not knowing. And what if they never let me go? What if I’m to just stay here, enduring this forever? What if it gets worse and they try to rape me like Erik was going to? Did Nicholai pluck me from one hell only to thrust me into a worse one. At least Erik spoke to me. These men don’t. And you don’t realise how much you crave human interaction until it’s gone, until you spend days with only your own thoughts for company.
The guy places the tray on the floor by the door and walks out without speaking a word. I’m ready to scream, to bash my head against the wall, anything, anything but another minute in this place. I don’t know how long passes but the door opens again. I remain on the bed, staring at the ceiling. There’s no point in trying to talk to him, because he never talks back. I learnt that quickly.
“Little dove?” I turn my head at the sound of the voice, convinced that my ears are deceiving me. “I am sorry I could not come sooner.”
Tears prickle my eyes and I sniff them back as I sit up on the bed. He smiles warmly at me, but I don’t move. I can’t. It’s a trick. I’m sure of it. I place my back to the wall and tuck my legs up.
“Come now, don’t be like that.” He coos.
“You left me.” I say in a hurry.
Still he smiles. “Unavoidable I’m afraid. But I’m back now.” He moves into the room, coming closer. I don’t know him, and he brought me here, he put me in this concrete box…but I haven’t spoken to anyone in so long …
“They hurt me.” I say hoarsely.
“I’m sorry.” He takes a seat on the bed next to me. “I’m here now. I missed you.” He strokes my dirty tangled hair back away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you, little dove.” He cups my face in both hands, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks that feel permanently damp from tears that never seem to stop falling. For the first time in what feels like weeks, I feel safe, and I know Nicholai is the only person I can trust. The only one. He cares for me when no one else does. He’ll protect me. I throw my arms around his neck and he pulls me close. I inhale the scent of cigarette smoke and although I should hate it because of the matron, I don’t. It reminds me of him, of his jacket. It reminds me that he saved me. “My dangerous little dove.” He coos. I cling to him and he simply holds me, making me feel protected. I haven’t felt protected since my parents died. “Are you ready?” He asks.
“For what?”
He pushes me back and looks at my face. “To become strong.”
5
“The trust of the innocent is the liars most useful tool.” - Stephen King
Nicholai walks ahead of me, striding down the grey concrete corridors. I don’t see anyone else here, and it makes me jumpy. The echo of our footsteps has me glancing around nervously. Eventually he stops outside a door and turns to face me, a smile on his face.
“You have five minutes. There are fresh clothes for you.” He gestures with his arm for me to go inside. I glance at him briefly and then open the door. The floor beneath my bare feet is tile and I can hear the steady echo of water dripping. Showers. There’s a vanity shelf on the left hand side with some folded black clothes. Five minutes he said. I strip out of my dirty jeans and the t-shirt they gave me on my first day here. It’s freezing cold and my teeth chatter as I shiver violently. I turn on the water in one of the showers and it’s cold, but I don’t have time to wait for it to heat up. He said five minutes and I don’t want to risk him coming in here to drag me out. I jump under the cold water and almost scream when it touches my skin. It heats up quickly though and I swear, hot water never felt so good. There’s a soap dispenser on the wall, and the gel soap smells like cheap toilet cleaner, but I don’t care. I rub it
into my hair and over my body, washing it off until the water runs clear and I feel clean. I want to stay in that heat all day but I can’t. By the time I’m dried and dressed I already feel more sane, as though I’ve physically washed away the effects of my imprisonment. I’m dressed in a long sleeved black shirt and what looks like combat pants of some description.
When I step outside Nicholai checks his watch. “Good. Lets go.” Where we’re going, I don’t know, but I follow anyway.
He walks ahead of me to the end of the corridor where he once again stops in front of a door and gestures for me to go ahead of him. It makes me suspicious, as though he wants me to go first and face what may be on the other side. I know it’s ridiculous. If he wanted to hurt me or kill me, surely he would just do it? But I can’t shake the paranoia.
I place my hand on the heavy steel handle and push down. The hinges squeak loudly as I push it open into a small corridor with another door in front of us.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Your new home.” He says quietly. There’s a key pad on the left hand side, and he leans around me, entering in a code.
