by Ashley Logan
I did my best to silently blend into the wall.
Running a hand through his hair, he groaned and shut himself in the bathroom.
Eventually he reappeared; earphones in his ears. He seemed calmer, but I wasn't risking moving from my spot on the opposite wall.
Ignoring me, he stood facing the cabin door and cricked his neck. Removing his ear buds, he stowed them carefully in his pocket and pulled out his gun. Checking the clip, he slammed it back into the gun and carefully returned it under his jacket to the small of his back. Taking a deep breath, his shoulders inflated and firmed in the way they always did when he left the cabin, and he departed without a word.
When I was able to move again, I sat on the edge of the bed and wondered who was about to die.
STILL HE WAS CREEPING. Entering as silently as a cat, he went through his usual routine and assumed his position in his chair despite knowing I was awake. He'd grown accustomed to me watching him as he settled and would sometimes offer a word or three, but that night in particular, he put his earphones in straight away.
Staring back at me for a moment, he closed his eyes and leaned back, slowly easing his weight into the chair until he seemed fully relaxed. I was almost asleep when he sat up straighter.
"You didn't eat all your food."
Opening my eyes to look at him, I remained still.
"I'm not giving you a lot to begin with," he added.
"I was not hungry, Pachenko."
Studying me with an appraising eye, he sighed. "Go to sleep Saskia."
"Yes Pachenko. I am tired from being so very busy. More sleep is what I need. Thank you."
Rolling over to face the wall, I pulled the blanket tight around my ears and refused to cry.
I actually was quite drained, but it was from having been on edge all day, not from any strenuous activity. There was little to do in the cabin other than think.
I had feared some repercussion for my sarcasm, but when the silence fell long and heavy between us, I presumed he would not respond. His voice startled me when he did eventually speak.
"I noticed you cleaned up. That's good, Saskia."
Saying nothing, I snuggled further into the bed, feeling that perhaps tomorrow I wouldn't bother leaving it. What was the point?
When I awoke to an empty room with more bottled water, fruit, and bread, I rolled back over and cried.
Just a little.
Until I slapped myself.
That stopped the tears, but not the feelings inside. The feelings raged all day at the wall as I spent the day in bed.
Pachenko arrived in his usual stealthy manner; locking the door, checking his gun, taking off his jacket and washing his face. But instead of sinking into his chair as he usually did, he loomed over me.
"What are you doing?"
Remaining still, I continued to stare at the wall. "Not sleeping."
"And not eating. You must eat," he insisted.
"I am not hungry Pachenko."
"I don't care. You will eat. It will give you energy."
"To do what? Sleep? I do not need energy for that."
"Are you sassing me?"
Frowning at the wall, I sighed. "What does this mean? Sassing?"
"Sit up!"
Sitting up, I leaned against the wall and avoided his glare.
"Look at me."
Raising my eyes to meet his, I could not puzzle out what his expression meant. He was definitely some kind of angry.
"Did you get out of bed at all today?"
I shook my head.
"Why not?"
I lifted one shoulder. "There is not much to do."
"There is eating," he informed me, thrusting an apple at my face.
Taking it, I held it in my lap with no appetite. "It is a waste to take only a bite. I am not hungry, Pachenko. I am sorry."
"You're sorry?" he asked, his eyes widening. "I think you are not sorry Saskia. I think you are either stubborn or suicidal. We will find out which." Pulling the gun from his back, he pointed it at me. "Eat."
Looking down the barrel of his gun, I felt nothing. Except maybe a vague sense of disappointment. I looked back at him and frowned.
"You offer a fast end because I am not hungry? If I was starving myself, a faster end would be kind. Pachenko is not kind. There is no end."
Setting the apple down on the bed, I lay back down.
"Do not be angry Pachenko. Saskia will sleep."
"Tomorrow she will eat."
"Probably."
"You will," he said forcefully enough to make me cringe. "You will get up and exercise until you are hungry, then you will eat. If you do not, I will drag you from that bed and force you."
Shaking a little, I hunkered down under the blanket. "Yes Pachenko."
CHAPTER EIGHT
I did not know how long I'd been aboard the Moskva-Liis until I awoke to find that I had bled on the bedlinen I'd only recently changed.
Three and a half weeks.
I didn't know how far a ship could travel in three and a half weeks, and I didn't know how long it took to reach land when I did not know which land I was headed for, or even if we were headed for land at all.
I had heard about boats that served as hotels out in international waters, where wealthy men flew in and enjoyed their illegal fantasies before flying out again. The girls at the club used to scare each other with the horror stories and thank their lucky stars for keeping themselves safely on the mainland.
Climbing out of bed, I rushed to the bathroom, wondering what the hell I was going to use to keep clean when the shower water turned cold on my skin after only a few seconds. Choices were slim when the only options in the bathroom included two white towels, and what paper was left on the nearly gone toilet roll.
Shivering under the water, I scrubbed my thighs and washed as quickly as I could. Wrapping a towel around me, I whimpered as I pulled my only clothes from the floor and took them to the sink.
The undershirt came up well, but after days of rough living, my underpants were struggling not to fall apart under an intensive cleaning that couldn't seem to shift the shadow of the new stain. Body tense with emotion and cold, I almost welcomed the warmth of my tears as I stood in front of the sink with the torn at the seam, scrap of fabric I could no longer wear.
"Saskia! There is blood! Where are you?" he cried, bursting into the bathroom.
Hunching my shoulders, I gripped the edge of the sink.
"Turn around!" he demanded.
I did so, keeping the ripped underwear behind my back.
His eyes were huge as they looked me over.
"Show me your wrists!"
Dropping my underwear back into the sink, I held my wrists forth for inspection, wondering at the relief on his face when he found them unscathed. Had he feared I'd harmed myself? Was I to be kept in top condition for some reason I could not fathom?
To fetch a pretty penny.
The words circled in my head as I lowered my wrists. Perhaps I should have kept my face tenderized. It would be hard to achieve the same effect myself with a healed canvas. I didn't relish the idea of running face first into a wall, but I would do it if it kept me from worse.
"What's wrong? You're hiding something," he said, trying to look behind me as he came closer. "You're crying, and cold, and there was blood."
He needn't have worried about the cold. The heat in my face was enough to warm the room as I felt the trickle down my leg.
He saw it and stepped back as if seeking escape.
Bowing my head, I twisted my leg to hide the blood, smearing it in the process.
"I did not know what day it was. There is no hot water, and no clothes, and no..." Crying openly now, I shook my head. "I am sorry I made the bed a mess. I will fix it. I just need... need..."
Looking around at the lack of necessities, I only cried harder, disgusting even myself with the pathetic display.
"I am sorry. I will stop." Sniffing, I took a breath and held it; held eve
rything. I didn't want to offend him with my emotions on top of everything else.
"What do you need?" he asked, his voice almost soft.
What did I need? The list was endless, but futile. I could not ask for freedom.
"Do you have any..." Of course he wouldn't. Shuddering with my sigh, I wiped my face. "Could I please have my suitcase? It is dark blue with a rainbow stripe down the middle. It is very new-looking. It has what I need."
His brows drew down as he leaned against the door frame. At first he seemed frozen, but then he seemed to reach some sort of decision and he left.
By the time he returned, I had re-made the bed and put all the dirty linen in the laundry sack. I almost cried with happiness when I saw he was carrying my suitcase.
Fending me off with a hand as I rushed for it, he pointed to the corner while he lay it on the bed and opened it.
"You will wait until I have checked it."
Nodding, I waited in the corner like a naughty child as he unzipped the nearest pocket and started removing my things. Setting aside my notebook and pen, he held up my phone to study the screen. It was dead of course, but that didn't stop him from stashing it in his back pocket.
Opening the main section, he set my clothes neatly to one side as he dissected my belongings in an orderly fashion. Nothing seemed to bother him until he got to my large bag of toiletries.
While I was excited to see my shampoo and hairbrush, he held up my razor to show me before putting it in his pocket.
"Could I maybe please use it before you take it?" I asked as nicely as I could. "I will not cut myself."
He grunted in response and kept unpacking. He held up my nail file. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to stab me with this either," he muttered before pocketing that too.
Folding my arms, I didn't argue. I had in fact wanted to maim him several times, but not since I understood there was little point. There was nowhere to go and enraging the bull I shared accommodation with seemed unwise when more savage animals lived beyond the door. I'd come to this conclusion every time I thought about how to get out. I'd have to learn the best time for an escape and somehow convince Pachenko to help me. Such a plan would maybe have seemed a lot easier if he was a weaker man, or more susceptible to persuasion.
Pulling out a box of condoms, he paused, then looked at me.
Unable to keep my cheeks from flushing, I avoided his eyes and sighed. Being detained and therefore forced to witness these most recent and mortifying moments of my life, was indeed the strangest torture I couldn't have imagined happening during a kidnapping.
Clearing my throat, I lifted my gaze from the floor to the ceiling. "What I need is in a small pink container."
He held it up and I nodded. Frowning, he shook it. Then opened it.
"What is this?"
Shielding my face with my hands, I cried out for the torture to end. "Please stop! Just give it to me and keep searching for weapons!" I begged, reaching for it.
Holding up a hand to stay me, he pulled it away and eyed it warily before closing the case and handing it over.
"You cannot kill me with this," he stated, satisfied.
I couldn't keep from laughing. It just sprang out of me, even snorting from my nose as I clasped my hand over my mouth.
"Is not likely. No," I agreed quickly, snatching the moon cup from his hand, and shutting myself in the bathroom to recover.
PACHENKO LOOKED UP as I opened the bathroom door. After a moment of studying my face, he nodded.
"You are still cold, but better. Get dressed," he said, gesturing to my open, but re-packed suitcase on the bed. "You may have these things. You will eat. Yes?"
Glancing briefly at the food before rushing to touch my things, I rested a hand on my lower abdomen that was beginning to ache in its hormonal way.
"If my stomach is not too sore, I will eat some. Yes."
He cleared his throat loudly, demanding my attention. I looked to see him place a foiled sheet of pills next to the food. "You will eat Saskia."
"Yes Pachenko."
He nodded and I turned back to my things.
Grabbing a clean pair of underwear, I almost melted at their heavenly softness. Pulling them on, I dropped my towel and reached for a t-shirt.
His quick movement caught my eye, and I looked up to see him rushing out the door. It locked twice and I was alone again. Happily so, after the morning I'd had.
Choosing a pair of leggings and a loose t-shirt, I dressed and found a place under the bunk to stow my suitcase, next to his large duffel bag. I had never been brave enough to give in to my curiosity and search through his gear. It was easy now to presume he would not keep anything in it that could be used as a weapon anyway, considering how safety conscious he'd been regarding a feminine hygiene device.
I giggled again and then looked around quickly. I should not be giggling. Even Saskia is not so bold as to laugh in the face of fear itself.
Sitting on the edge of the freshly made bed, I exhaled roughly. I'd been more active in this one morning than I had in the last three weeks. Eying the medication, I snapped out two pills and found them to be the same type I'd had to ease my headaches. I swallowed them and ate an apple, and felt very tired.
Curling up in the bed, I decided a nap would be a good idea. I hoped to sleep long enough for the water to be hot again so I could enjoy a decent shower and wash my hair. After a small taste of it, I longed to feel more human.
I woke up when his chair creaked.
Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and looked around, disorientated. "It is late?"
"Not too late."
Too late for what? I didn't want to ask.
"I meant to sleep only a little while. Is the water hot?" I asked, taking in his wet hair and clean clothes and wondered again how many pairs of jeans he did actually have. He was always in them. Every day. Perhaps his bag only held jeans.
"The water is hot. Yes."
I was about to get up, when I stopped.
"May I please shower again?"
His eyebrows made the slightest adjustment, but his face remained impassive. "Yes."
I slid one toe to the floor and paused again. He sighed.
"What?"
"May I shave? I will not kill you with my razor. It has safety... things" I explained, attempting to illustrate the razor's protective wires with my hands.
"You cannot kill me that way, no," he agreed with an amused sparkle in his eyes. "I am difficult to kill and you will not want to try."
I nodded. "I agree. Also, you say that there is nowhere to go. Nobody to help me. Everybody to rape me. If I kill you, I kill me. I do not want to die." I waited a moment as he watched me. "Is that a yes?"
Sighing, he reached for his jacket and rummaged in one of its pockets before producing my razor.
I almost felt the need to tease him for having carried a pink razor in his pocket all day.
Almost.
I took it from him quickly. "Thank you Pachenko."
He sighed again as I stooped to collect my suitcase and I turned to face him.
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, uncertain of why he seemed annoyed now.
"No. You did nothing," he replied, avoiding my eyes. "Go. Have your shower."
Doing as I was told felt glorious as the hot water washed over me. I felt immediately cleaner than I had using only cold water. Shampoo and conditioner were a fragrant luxury, as was my own shower gel, and shaving was just as good. Brushing my teeth with a real toothbrush instead of a facecloth was the icing on the cake.
Pulling on clean underwear and a loose shirt to sleep in, I felt like a new woman. Or like the old me. Or at least something in between that felt a million times better than the prisoner girl in soiled, three-week-old underwear that I had been that morning.
Upon returning to the cabin, I found Pachenko stretched out across the bed, fast asleep. With the lights on full.
He lay on top of the blankets, still wearing his big boots, and I wondered if he'd actu
ally meant to fall asleep. It wasn't as if he looked particularly comfortable - though definitely much more so than when he slept in his chair. I wondered how his neck must feel after nearly four weeks in that chair, and why he would allow me to keep the bed to myself.
There was plenty of room to share it.
Not that I wanted to. Or could, when he was sleeping across it diagonally as he now was. I tip-toed closer to watch him a while, but changed my mind and backed off.
Pachenko was not pleasant when he was woken and I wanted to avoid being punched in the face if I could help it. I dimmed the lights that could not be turned completely off, and crept over to his chair instead, lowering myself into it carefully.
It wasn't cushioned in the least, and must've hurt more than just his neck to try and rest there. Try as I might, I couldn't get comfortable at all and the chair protested at my movement.
Pachenko instantly rose off the bed ready for combat and I shrank in the chair until he blinked me into focus.
Looking around, he seemed to realize what had happened, and eased back to sit on the edge of the bed as he rubbed his face.
"Okay. I'm up. You can go to bed now."
"Maybe you should sleep in the bed. You are tired and this chair is awful. I do not know how you have slept here."
Sighing, he stood up. "It's fine. Get in your bed."
I was too stunned to move. "My bed?"
Groaning, he came towards me, lifted me from the chair and dumped me on the bed before sagging into the creaking chair. "Go to sleep Saskia."
"You always say that when you want me to be quiet and do as I'm told."
"Yes."
"Fine. I will sleep in this very comfortable bed." Climbing under the blankets I stretched out my limbs.
"This bed is the right size for a very tall person. Even stretching out, I cannot reach the edges, but I can see that you prefer something smaller and more noisy. This bed is far too soft and quiet. It is a good bed to waste on a small person who has already slept a lot today. You are right Pachenko. Good night."
