“That doesn’t help me if she tries anything.”
“Kiera.” He bends down so we’re eye to eye and speaks in a harsh tone. “Masha is here to wax you. I’m going to untie you, and you will take off everything but your bra and underwear. If you try anything, and I mean anything, so help me, Sammy will be punished.”
My eyes tear at the mention of my brother. This man is using Sammy to control me once again. I nod. It’s not like I have a choice whether or not to agree to his terms.
Dima releases me from my bindings, but he does so without even looking at me. He’s a bit schizophrenic. When his friends or associates are around, he’s cold, distant. But when it’s just the two of us, like in the back of the van, or here before Masha arrived, he’s kind and compassionate. One of these personas is an act, but I’m not sure which one.
“Get undressed,” Masha orders, doing her best impression of a bitch.
My eyes drift to Dima. He’s looking at his phone. I might be crazy, but I think it’s meant to give me an iota of privacy.
“Are you stupid?” she asks in a raised voice. “I said get undressed.”
Wasn’t there a point, only minutes ago, that I had hope of making friends with this woman? She’s as cold and heartless as the other two men. I do as I’m told because the little I know about hot wax is that it hurts coming off. Or that it can burn and scald your skin if it’s too hot when applied. I’m not looking to give her an excuse to hurt me, not when I can’t fight back.
Once my clothes are off, she gathers them in her arms and tosses them out the door of the room. I’m not foolish enough to think she’s going to be kind and make sure they are freshly laundered. I just lost my clothes for good.
I lie on the mattress and try to calm my breathing. If I think clearly, it will help me find a way out of this mess, if there’s one to be found. Once I’m settled, she uses a wooden spoon to paint the wax onto my leg. It’s warm and calming. She then spoons some on the other leg. The warmth envelopes me. It feels good. I close my eyes and tell myself this isn’t so bad.
Her fingernails scratch me as she pries them under the wax, lifting it up just enough to get a good grip on it. Once she has, she proceeds to rip the wax off with one pull. I’m jarred by the pain. My college roommate gets her body waxed regularly. I’ve only ever had my lips and eyebrows done. They hurt enough, and this is a much larger surface area, although not as sensitive.
Again and again, Masha paints me with the hot wax, only to viciously rip it off me. She waxes me everywhere — my face, my legs, my arms, passing nasty little comments like, “disgusting,” or “who’d want to fuck that?” when we go from section to section.
My skin smarts. I wouldn’t say I’m in terrible pain, but it’s sore and feels worked over. Every time I flinch or suck in a breath, she looks at Dima and smirks. She enjoys hurting me. She really is a bitch.
It seems like we’ve been at this all day, but I have no measure of time to judge from. No window to see the light or darkening of the sky. No television shows or sounds of the radio to hear of shows starting or ending. The world outside this small, cramped living quarter ceases to exist.
I think we’re done when she starts pulling my underwear down.
“No!” My voice rings out a little too loud as my hands reach down to stop her. My pulse quickens again and my face is filled with the heat of shame and embarrassment. I can’t let her do this. My eyes dart to the side. Even though I can’t see Dima, I know he’s there, and I can’t let him see me like this.
I’m answered with a dirty look. “Did you just say no to me?” She slaps my face on the same side the blond did in the van. I shriek out in pain and stare at her, stunned.
In a heartbeat, Dima is at our side. I’m not sure if he’s there to stop her from further hurting me or to make sure I don’t retaliate. Either way, I’m mortified. No guy has ever seen me with so little on, and this isn’t the way I wanted the first time to go. I turn my face away so I can spare myself the humiliation of looking at him or seeing him drink my almost naked body in.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns. “Or I might have to treat you the same way.”
“If Ivan was here, would you speak to me like this?”
“You know I would. Talk to her. She’ll cooperate.”
“Why do you care? She’s nothing. No one. Or is she like a new toy you think you’re going to keep for yourself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Fine. Then you won’t care when I tell Ivan he needs to send someone here to replace you.”
“Go ahead. Tell him,” he challenges, although his threatening stare is saying something very different. “I’ll make sure he knows that you think you’re the one in charge. That you’re entitled to make decisions and I had to stop you from marking up her face because you’re jealous. You don’t think he’s going to have a problem with that?”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it? You know he wants her looking her best so he can get top dollar. What do you think he’ll get if she’s bruised and beaten?”
She doesn’t answer, nor does she back down.
“Fuck this up and he’ll punish you,” he threatens. “I’ll sit back and enjoy the view from the front row seat I’ll have as I watch it happen.”
“Is that so?” she asks, running her pointer finger down his chest and licking her over-glossed lips. “Is that what you want to do the next time we fuck? Watch another man spank me? Do you want to watch me fuck him, too?”
He shoves her hand off him. “Just shut up and finish.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns from him, gathers my underwear in the middle, and pulls it up, so that they are essentially no more than a G-string in the front and back.
“Hold this,” she orders me to keep them pulled taut, as if someone is giving me a front wedgie.
The bikini wax is brutal. Several times tears sting my eyes, but I don’t give in to them. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. My tears can wait until I’m alone. Instead I focus on what I just heard.
They are together. She and Dima do have some sort of relationship.
It bothers me that I don’t know which revelation makes me sicker. The fact that they’re looking to get top dollar for me, which means they’re going to sell me off, or the fact that she’s involved with Dima. Yes, she’s beautiful, but she’s an evil bitch, and he seems so much more human than the rest of them.
The front of my body is thoroughly waxed. I swear I think she removed every hair follicle that’s not on my head. I assume we’re finished, there’s nowhere else to wax, but no. The witch yells at me to roll over onto my stomach so she can repeat the fun on my backside. Again she paints me with wax, starting with the back of my legs. She waxes me everywhere, including the crack of my ass.
My skin stings, but my pride and ego, they are what’s truly damaged, both from the humiliation of lying there and allowing her to do this as well as the degrading comments she passes as she does it. I understand she’s doing her best to make sure Dima keeps his distance from me, but knowing this doesn’t help, because I’m afraid he will.
Once we’re done, I fold my hands under my face like a little pillow and turn on my side, the side opposite where he is sitting. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want him to see that I’m a little more broken than I was before she walked through this door.
She gathers her stuff together and they leave the room. I hear them talking in raised voices. Of course they’re speaking in Russian, so I don’t know what they’re saying. I focus on the fact that I’m alone at last. I allow the tears to stream out of my eyes. If only they weren’t holding Sammy over my head. If I had a chance to fight back, I would’ve splashed the hot wax in her face.
I wipe the tears from my eyes with my fingertips, promising myself one thing. If I escape, I’m going to find this bitch and fuck her up.
Chapter 5
I’m trapped. Like a fucking lab rat. That’
s what I am. A fucking pest that they can toy with, tease, and torture. I lie on the air mattress in silence, hoping if I’m quiet enough they’ll forget I’m here. I’m cold and start to shiver. I want to get dressed, but I have no clothes. I look up at the bed and consider climbing back in so I can pull the blanket over me, but I don’t. I don’t want to give the impression that I’m eager for what they are planning.
I’m numb. It’s like there’s a switch on my heart and brain, and someone just turned them down and now they are working on low, like a car on auxiliary power. I close my eyes and think about my brother. I wish I could send him a telepathic message. I wonder if he’s awake. Is he in pain? Does he know I’m not there? Does he know I love him?
My mind yanks me back into my early childhood days as a memory steals me from the moment.
*
It’s dark and cold. I see nothing. I’m surrounded by a threatening blackness. It’s like night without the moon and stars. I’m frightened and alone. And so cold! I hug my arms around me, and rub my hands up and down my arms.
“HELP!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Somebody please help me!”
My throat is raw and burns. I want Mommy. I’ve been screaming for her and Daddy since Sammy pushed me into the freezer, but neither have come to rescue me. I hate Sammy! He knows I don’t like to be alone and that I’m afraid of the dark, afraid a monster is going to sneak up on me and slice me open.
Wait until they find out what he did to me. Daddy is going to make Sammy cry. I hope Daddy spanks him hard so he never does this again.
“DADDY! “ I try screaming again. Tears stream down my face, hot and wet, but it’s so cold in here, I think they’re going to turn into icicles.
I sit on the floor of the freezer and turn myself into a human ball. I wrap my arms around my knees and tuck my head down. I rock back and forth, crying. Screaming. Pleading with God to let someone find me.
The door opens. Afraid it’s Sammy and that he’s going to do something even worse to me, I slowly lift my eyes.
“Thank God I found you! She’s in the freezer!” he calls out. Thank God it isn’t Sammy!
Mommy rushes in and scoops me up in her arms. She hugs me and holds my head against her warm shoulder as she carries me out of the cold and back into the warmth of the kitchen. I cling to her and cry harder. I don’t want to let go of Mommy. Ever.
“SAMMY!” Daddy yells. I never heard him yell this loud. He’s so angry. I think the walls of the diner are shaking. “Get your ass in here!” Daddy’s going to punish Sammy, and Sammy deserves it.
He’s in the kitchen with us in a flash. “You found her. Whew,” he says, wiping his hand across his forehead like he actually cares.
“How did your sister end up in the freezer?” Dad growls.
“I don’t know,” Sammy shrugs. “Ask him. He did it,” Sammy says, pointing to the boy that rescued me. The boy that’s now my hero.
“Is that true?” My father turns his threatening stare on the frightened young boy.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t,” he says to another young woman that has joined us in the kitchen.
“Don’t lie!” Sammy accuses. “First you shut the lights in the basement and tried to lock me in there, then you came up and stuck Kiera in the freezer.”
“I didn’t. Mommy, I swear!” he pleads, pulling on his mother’s sleeve.
“Who found her?” Sammy asks. “Maybe whoever found her locked her in.”
I hate Sammy. He’s trying to get my friend in trouble, and I know he didn’t do it. I was peeking out from the kitchen at him. My friend sat in a booth drawing. Earlier he promised to draw me a picture of a unicorn. My mouth was covered from behind me so I couldn’t scream, and someone pulled me back and shoved me into the freezer.
I didn’t see who did it, and even though it felt like someone bigger and taller, I know it was Sammy. He hates me. And he hates my friend. I think my brother is trying to get rid of the boy. I can’t let that happen. Then it will just be me and Sammy again, and I’m afraid of Sammy.
“Mommy.” I whisper.
“Yes, princess?”
Before I say another word, I look between the two boys. My friend is scared. He’s hiding behind his mother. Sammy is angry. I know that look. If I get him in trouble, he’ll beat me up later. If I get my friend in trouble, I might not see him again. He already went away for a while. He only just came back.
“I’m sorry. I was playing in there and the door closed.” I barely choke the words out. “I got locked in.”
Mommy knows I’m lying. She looks at Sammy, then back at me.
“Don’t protect your brother, Kiera. He needs to be punished. You could’ve been seriously hurt.”
I shake my head and drop my eyes to the ground. I hate lying to Mommy. I love her so much. But I’m so afraid of my brother. It’s not Sammy I’m protecting, it’s the other boy. “It’s my fault.”
“We have to get back to work.” Daddy says. “If anything like this happens again, the three of you will be punished. For a very long time. Does everyone understand?”
We all nod. Mommy escorts us out of the kitchen and leads us to a booth. I slide in, and my friend sits next to me. He and Sammy glare at each other. Sammy gets up and sits in another booth away from us.
I take my friend’s hand and hold it under the table so Sammy can’t see. That’s what got him so angry to begin with. He saw us holding hands earlier.
“I won’t let him hurt you again,” the boy with the dark eyes says. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever.”
*
The memory is so vivid, but I don’t know if it really happened or if I’m making the whole thing up in my mind. Maybe I’m just wishing someone, anyone, will burst through that door and save me. Maybe I’m wishing that Dima will have a change of heart and be like the little boy with the dark eyes.
Whatever happened to him? We never heard from him after he moved. I remember fighting with Sammy when we were kids. He always ordered me around and bullied me to get his way, but I don’t think he’d ever be that mean to lock me in the freezer. Would he? Would the other boy? He did find me, and it’s plausible that it’s because he knew where to look.
“Kiera.”
My body stiffens at the sound of Dima’s voice. I don’t move. For a moment I consider pretending to be asleep, but I’m sure he’ll see right through that.
“I have some clothes for you.” I feel the slight breeze and thump next to me as he drops what he’s holding. “I’ll give you a minute to yourself to get dressed.”
I hear his retreating footsteps. When I’m certain he’s in the other room and I won’t have to bear the humiliation of looking in his eyes or having him stare at me as I dress, I pick up the clothes next me. My clothes. Clothes I left at home when I went to school.
This is the moment I start to lose it. My hands tremble as I lift each item to examine it. My bra and underwear. My shirt with the frayed hem. My jeans wearing thin at the knees. I quickly change before he comes back.
“Are you dressed?” he calls.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about Masha,” he says when he returns. “She was way out of line.”
“I’m surprised you’re with her.”
“With her?”
“Dating her, sleeping with her,” I look away from him. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea and think I’m jealous. “You seem too nice to be with someone so bitchy.”
“I’m glad you think I’m nice,” I see a hint of a smile playing on his lips and in his eyes. “But I’m not with her.” He pulls his thumb across my cheek, and there it is again, tingling on my skin where he touches me. “She’s a mistake I wish I could undo.”
I nod and drop my eyes, wondering why his hand is cupping my cheek and why I like it so much.
“Kiera.”
I love the way he says my name, with so much emotion, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. I look up and meet his eyes.
They’re sad and warm and make my heart beat faster. There’s something about him, something familiar that I can’t put my finger on. It pulls me in and draws me to him. No matter how bad I want to fight it, my heart tells me not to. That running to him and getting lost in his arms is the way to go, not running away from him.
I’ve heard about Stockholm syndrome. I wonder if that’s what I’m experiencing. Isn’t it too soon for that? Understanding that the things I’m feeling might not be real, I snap back to the moment.
“How do you have my clothes?”
“Sammy gave me a few of your things.”
I suck in a deep breath and straighten my back to my full height as I push his hand away from me, searching for strength and testing the boundaries of how hard I could push back against him.
“Liar! My brother wouldn’t give you anything of mine. You stole them. You stole them when you tried to kill him.” My voice cracks and sounds much weaker than I intended it to.
“No!” He shakes his head. “I didn’t hurt Sammy. He’s my friend.”
“Bullshit!” I yell at him and take a step away.
He grabs my arms and pulls me to him. He’s inches away. Heat bounces off him and slams against my trembling body with brute force. He tilts his head down as he speaks to me, and I feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. I know at this moment these are not the things I should be focused on, but I can’t help it. I have no control over the craziness going on in my head.
“I wasn’t there.”
I turn my head so I don’t have to look at him, but he’s having none of it. Dima’s hands are on either cheek, and he turns my face gently so that I’m facing him. It’s like he knows eventually I won’t be able to stop myself from looking up at his handsome face. Whoa. Handsome? When the hell did he become attractive?
“I didn’t hurt your brother. I swear.”
“I don’t believe you.” I shake my head and back away from him. So much for my plan to play nice and win his trust.
“He knew this was going to happen, Kiera. He provoked them.”
“Them? You’re one of them!” I shriek. “If you’re his friend, why didn’t you defend him? Why didn’t you stop it?”
My Russian Nightmare Page 4
