Thirty Days of Pain

by Ginger Talbot

  I give him a nasty smile without a trace of submission to it. “No, it doesn’t, does it?”

  Helenka suddenly stands up and runs around the table toward me. Jasha looks questioningly at Sergei, who doesn’t react. She reaches me and throws her arms around me.

  Then she slides onto my lap.

  We sit there for a very short time. Sergei hates being defied. He is so angry that I can feel it, a thick fog that makes my food taste bitter. I enjoy Helenka’s presence as much as I can. Helenka shouts across the table to Yuri, who laughs.

  “That’s enough,” Sergei says abruptly. “Dinner is over.”

  Helenka looks at me, about to protest, but I just shake my head.

  “Remember what I taught you,” I tell her.

  We’ve had conversations like this before. We’ve talked about strategy, how to survive in a family like ours.

  Discretion is the better part of valor.

  “I hate what you taught me,” she says, her eyes flashing with anger.

  “Apologize to your cousin,” Sergei says coldly.

  I look at him. “I hate what I taught her too. No child should ever have to learn the things she’s learned. There’s no need for her to apologize.”

  More defiance. The hell with it. Rage is making me reckless.

  One of the maids who’s been standing up against the wall waiting for a command approaches us. Helenka tenses and glares up at her.

  “Go now,” I tell her. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

  Helenka shoots a look of disgust at Sergei, and then she lets the woman lead her and Yuri out of the room, their dinner half eaten.

  “You. Now,” Sergei snaps, and I follow him down the hallway.

  We go into my bedroom.

  I’m choking on my own fury. I thought I knew what feeling helpless was like before; being forcibly kept from my own family like this is a nightmare I never imagined. “I already know what your next move is going to be. Sir. Because your childish sadism is predictable. You’re going to make us eat dinner separately from now on.”

  He slaps me so hard my ears ring, and I stagger back a step.

  I am so filled with rage that I barely feel the pain. “Is that all you’ve got?” I yell. “Weak little pussy! You’re angry because you were outwitted by a little girl!”

  He slaps me again, and now my lip is bleeding.

  I straighten up. “Of all the disgusting things I thought about you, I never thought you’d be the type to hurt children.” I am taking a stab in the dark, but I have a feeling that this is another one of those trigger points for him.

  “I am not hurting a child! You’re hurting them by being a stubborn bitch!” He slaps me again, so hard that I fall to my knees, my ears ringing.

  “And now you’re lying to yourself.” I glare up at him from the floor. “That’s something a coward does, because he’s afraid of the truth.”

  “Call me a coward again.” He reaches down, grabs me by the throat.

  “You’re a fucking weak, child-abusing, cowardly little whore.” I scream it at the top of my lungs. I know how much danger I’m in. What does it matter? If I can’t be with Helenka and Yuri, if I can’t protect them from this man, I have nothing. I am worth nothing.

  I never thought I’d say it, but without them, what reason do I have to live?

  His hands start to close on my neck. My vision turns red; I claw at his hands. He’s really going to kill me. I summon up my self-defense lessons from college, and I manage to kick him in the crotch. His hands release me and he falls back away from me. I gasp for air.

  He staggers away. His eyes have gone almost black. He goes mad, rampaging through the room, throwing lamps, punching holes in the walls, shredding pictures. I watch in astonishment, detached, as if it’s happening on a TV screen.

  Sergei is a raging beast. Blood streams from his hands as he punches a mirror. He’s roaring like a wounded lion.

  I should run, but I can barely move. The room is swimming and I’ve got double vision.

  He stops, finally, and shakes his head. He looks around in bewilderment. He stumbles back to me. I’ve never seen this look in his eyes before. I’m kneeling on the floor, and he’s towering over me.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he says to me.

  “Fuck you,” I spit at him. “Big, brave man, strangling a woman. You didn’t finish the job. Because you’re weak and afraid.”

  He actually sinks down to his knees – and I see tears in his eyes.

  He puts his shaking hand on my face, and to my utter self-disgust, a wave of arousal washes over me again. I could not possibly hate myself more than I do at this moment.

  I still want him. I am disgusting. I am lower than worms.

  “Please,” he rasps. “I am asking you. I am begging you. Do not do that to me again. Do not provoke me. Sometimes I go into a place where I don’t…where I can’t stop myself. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve killed people when I’m like that.” He hesitates. “That is why I don’t have you sleep with me. One of the reasons. Because I have nightmares. I broke a woman’s jaw once while she was sleeping next to me.”

  Another woman was sleeping next to him? The jealousy that I feel is irrational and proves I’ve completely, utterly lost all self-respect. And my mind.

  He cups my jaw in his hand. Gentle Sergei is back. “Do you see? Don’t ever do that again. Promise me.”

  I take a deep, shuddery breath, and I realize I’m crying.

  “I can’t promise anything. You’ve pushed me too far.”

  He shuts his eyes and shudders like he’s afraid. Then he looks at me again, and his face is twisted with fear, as if he’s staring into an abyss.

  “Willow, I care about you. Is that what you want to hear? You are reshaping me into something that I don’t even recognize. If I kill you, it will be like killing myself. But I may not be able to stop myself. You know how to call up the beast in me, and the beast cannot be controlled. Promise me you won’t do it again.” His tone is urgent. Desperate.

  I refuse to give him what he’s asking for. Any control that I have here, I will keep for myself. “If you care about me, then why do you keep hurting me? Every fucking time you open yourself up to me the tiniest bit, you have to come back at me ten times as hard.”

  “Because this is what I am. You knew that from the moment you first saw me, and yet you keep trying to…heal me. Fix me. Make me feel things that would weaken me until I die.”

  A storm of emotions is raging through me. He’s telling me all the things that I’ve been craving…but is it too late?

  “Having normal human feelings won’t weaken you, for God’s sake. Top mob bosses have wives and children and still manage to function just fine. It’s just an excuse.”

  “Being this way is how I live. I don’t know any other way. It’s far too late for me to change.” He’s staring off into the distance.

  Surely if he’s opened up to me like this, then I can reach the tender side of him, the one that must be there? Nobody is pure evil – are they? I don’t want Sergei to be all bad. He must have at least a little spark of good burning deep inside. Oh, please.

  “Sergei, take it out on me if you want, but please don’t take it out on the children. Let me see them. If you let me see them, I’ll do anything you want. I will promise never to push you again. I’ll speak to you like a meek little mouse. I’ll be your slave.”

  He focuses on me, but he’s still dazed and only halfway there. “I like it when you fight me. I love your fire.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” I shout furiously. “You don’t know what the hell you want, do you?”

  “I want what I can’t have.” He buries his face in his hand and groans. “I want you.” I feel a swell of frustration and despair, and I want to weep. Why couldn’t he have said that weeks ago?

  He moves forward to kiss me.

  But he’s not giving an inch on the children.

  I slide back.

  “Oh no,
Sergei. We’re done. If you want to force yourself on me, I will lie there and take it because you are physically stronger than me. I used to love it when you fucked me. You like hearing me say dirty words, don’t you? Motherfucker. Yes, I loved it when you kissed me. When you touched me. But when you dragged my cousins into this mess and didn’t even have the balls to admit it, you made me sick to my stomach. So if you’re into necrophilia, go ahead, because you’re basically going to be fucking a dead body.”

  He gives me a blank look, nods, and gets up. He shuts the door behind him very gently.

  I crawl to my bed and lie there. I am dizzy and my ears are still ringing and it hurts to swallow.

  A nurse in pink scrubs comes in a little while later. I sit up carefully and glare at her as she approaches the bed.

  “What’s it like working for a monster?” I snap.

  She looks at me coolly. “How adorable that you assume I have a choice.”

  Of course. That’s Sergei, the black hole, sucking people into his world of darkness.

  I should feel ashamed of myself, but right now I’m saving all my pity for myself and my family.

  She makes me stand up and take a few steps. She shines a penlight in my eyes to check my pupils. She runs me through various neurological tests like I’m a stroke victim – smile, hold both my arms out in front of me – checking for signs of one-sided weakness. She tests my grip strength. She takes my blood pressure, checks my pulse.

  Then she hands me two pills. “Painkiller,” she says. “And antibiotic. For the split lip. The mouth is a hotbed of nasty germs, so you’ll take one of these twice a day for the next ten days.” She gives me a glass of water. I take the antibiotic and hand back the painkiller.

  “No, thank you. I don’t want anything that will make me dopey.”

  “If you refuse the pill, I will have to tell Sergei.”

  I shake my head wearily. Everything about that is just so…Sergei. Hurting me and then healing me. Only sending me one pill – in case I either try to kill myself by overdose or hoard the pills for whatever reason. Having the nurse report back to him.

  “Knock yourself out,” I mumble.

  I go lie down on the bed with my back toward her.

  “I have a better idea,” she says, and then I feel a sharp pain in my right butt cheek as she jabs me with a needle.

  “Youuuu bbbbbbiiiishhh…” I try to sit up, woozy.

  I wake up nine hours later, with my head foggy and throbbing.

  I stumble to the bathroom and I start when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face is swollen and I am wearing a necklace of bruises. My head pounds. I drink water to rinse the foul taste from my mouth, and when I spit the water out it makes my lip bleed. It hurts to swallow.

  It’s the afternoon of day seventeen. Thirteen more days. I have to believe he’ll keep his word and let me go at the end of the thirty days.

  But what about my cousins? Will he let them go?

  He has no reason to let them go. It’s not good strategy.

  My heart sinks at the thought. As long as he’s got them, he’s got me.

  Chapter Twenty

  Afternoon of day seventeen…

  That afternoon, Jasha flings open the door and tells me to go to the dining room. I sit up, shaky and exhausted, and allow myself to hope. I dress as quickly as I can, pulling on a black rayon maxi-dress that floats around my ankles. I frantically pat on makeup, then put on a scarf. I look like a train wreck, but it will have to do.

  I hurry in, eager to see my cousins and Lukas. I want to reassure my cousins that this will all be over soon. I want to introduce them to Lukas, and I want to tell him that I didn’t abandon him.

  I hurry down the hall after Jasha, humming to myself.

  When we walk into the dining room, my heart plummets.

  The room is empty, and there is one platter sitting there at the head of the table.

  So that’s how he’s playing this. Motherfucker.

  I swallow my rage and sit down. I force myself to eat most of the blini and sausages. I need to keep my strength up.

  I glare at Jasha as I stand up. “Your employer is a subhuman piece of crap. The world will be a better place when he dies. Please tell him I said that.”

  Genuine anger sparks in his eyes. He actually cares about Sergei. What the hell did Sergei do to inspire that in anybody?

  “Careful.” He grinds out the word.

  I throw my arms out wide. “You want to hit me? Come at me, bro. That’s what you cowardly little bitches do to make yourselves feel like real men, don’t you?” I barely recognize myself these days. Who is the wild woman shouting out these words?

  He moves toward me, and I am afraid, but only in the way one feels when the roller coaster cart is at the very top of the tracks, about to plunge down.

  “I’m waiting,” I snap.

  Something flickers in his gaze, and he takes a step back. And I know why. Sergei wouldn’t want him to hit me, so he won’t. If I tried to attack him or escape, I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate to hit me, but he’s not going to smack me around just for the fun of it.

  He points at the door. “Out.”

  When I go back to my room, there are a few of Sergei’s men in there, removing the broken furniture. One of them is Jon.

  As he walks by me, he slips something into my hand. He flicks his gaze upward and whispers, “Closet.”

  I get the message. There are cameras everywhere in here except the closet.

  I wait until all the men are gone, then I go into the walk-in closet. It’s as big as a small bedroom, hung with all the clothes that Sergei bought for me; the old stuff that my uncle bought for me has been removed by Sergei’s men.

  Even as he’s pushing me away, he has to control me, down to the clothing that drapes my body. He’s still touching me, caressing my skin, clinging to me, even when he’s not there.

  I unfold the little piece of paper that Jon gave me. It has a smiley face drawn by Helenka – I know, because she made little hearts for eyes. And Yuri drew a picture of a mouth with a tongue sticking out. I start to cry, and smile through my tears at the same time.

  This tiny act of defiance on Jon’s part ignites a flare of hope. Maybe he’s planning something. Maybe he’ll rescue us.

  But…he’s my uncle’s man, so if he gets us out of here, he’s just delivering us from one hell to another.

  Still. An idea starts to form in my mind. An idea I won’t share with anyone.

  I lift up the carpet in the back of the closet.

  My fake ID is still there, and the pathetic sum of two hundred dollars, and the burner phone that I charge up every so often. And one other thing that I bought a year ago, and which may or may not still be functional.

  The fake ID was purchased by my mother. And the reason I have so little money? I’ve always paid for everything with my uncle’s credit cards. The men in the family like to keep the women on a short leash. I wasn’t allowed to get a job. The only way I could get cash was to return some of the clothing and jewelry that I bought. I’d done that for a while and built up almost five thousand dollars, but then my uncle found the stash hidden behind a drawer in my dresser and took every last bit of it. I received quite the tongue-lashing, with words like “ungrateful whore” flung at me.

  That was last year. I had just started building up a little cash again when Sergei appeared on the scene, and after that, we were all kept on a very short leash. We were afraid to go anywhere, in case Sergei struck against Vilyat’s family to get at him, and when we went out we were surrounded by bodyguards.

  The ID and the stash of money give me the slimmest thread of hope, but in these terrible times, I will cling to that thread like it’s a life-raft.

  Day twenty-one

  SERGEI

  I haven’t seen Willow in days, and the craving is physically painful.

  I am forced to admit a terrible truth to myself. After I raged through the room and opened myself up to her, I felt b
etter than I have in years. Not so much feeling good about myself, but – there was less pain and pressure. It was like lancing an infected wound and letting the poison seep out.

  It only lasted for a few minutes. Then she rejected me, turned me away, as she should have. As I made her do.

  I wasn’t angry when she rejected me. I was numb.

  I know my men are worried about me now. They’ve seen my blackout rages, but they always pass quickly. This has been going on for days. I find myself pacing the floors and talking to myself without noticing it.

  To anchor myself, I sit in Vilyat’s office and watch the execution video of Latvi, again and again. Today, Jasha and Maks are with me.

  We paid off Latvi’s mistress to kill him. She was happy to do it. Like all the Toporov men, he got his sexual thrills from degrading his women. Not that I’m one to talk.

  But he did things to her that turned my stomach. Tied her down and let a dozen of his men violate her in every hole until she bled and passed out, then dumped cold water on her to revive her and started all over again. Pissed on her. Burned her with cigars and cut her with knives in places that wouldn’t show. Her stomach is dotted with raised red circle-scars. He actually carved and burned a tic-tac-toe game into her back.

  Why didn’t she run? She has a kid. A one-year-old daughter. Latvi held that over her head, so she stayed, while he killed her by inches. It’s funny what people will do for their kids. Like Willow.

  I could do anything to her, and she’d take it, and forgive me like a fool. A sweet, kind, loving fool.

  But as soon as I started messing with Lukas and her cousins by keeping her from them, she really, genuinely hated me.

  That was what I needed. That was why I did it.

  And now I’ll never be able to make her love me.

  No. Shut the fuck up. Don’t think about that.

  “Sir?” Maks’ voice is startled, and I realize with dismay that I’ve said it out loud.

  “Nothing.” I turn back and hit the rewind button for the video.

  How ironic. I tried to destroy Willow, and she’s destroyed me instead. She’s won. I am sticking to my decision not to go near her again. Ever.