Chapter Twenty
Day fifteen…
I don’t want to be awake.
I don’t want to be in this world.
Darya and I spend the night in our cages, burning with thirst and sick with hunger and fear. We lie there curled up with our blankets pulled around us, not speaking. We don’t have the energy to talk. I’m so exhausted that sometimes I drift off, but then I wake up with a jerk and the nightmare reality washes over me, threatening to drown me in terror.
I have to squat over the bucket to pee, and I’m so dizzy I almost fall over. Then I crawl back to my mattress and pull the blanket over myself.
I want to think about better times, about sunshine and Sergei and my family, but it’s hard to think about anything except how thirsty and terrified I am. My head still aches from where Vasily hit me, my leg throbs where the GPS tracker was removed and it was inexpertly stitched back up.
When things are pleasurable, when life is going well, time rushes by at the speed of a freight train. I never stopped to appreciate the good times. Now I’ll never feel pleasure or warmth again, and every miserable second feels like a century. I can’t believe how long this horrible night has lasted.
When I’m ready to sink into despair, I force myself to remember the girls I’ve saved. The girls and the children Sergei has saved. I hurt Vasily, at least a little.
I wish I could have saved Darya.
When the sun rises, shining through the tiny window in our room, a guard throws open the door and we both flinch when he approaches.
Is this the end?
But we are given hunks of bread and one bottle of water each, shoved through the bars of our cages. He leaves without a backward glance, because we’re beneath his notice, like livestock. We gnaw the bread like animals and gulp the water down. It might be our last meal.
Just as we’re finishing, two guards come for us and open our cages. Darya and I are both hunched in on ourselves, staring down at the floor as we’re hustled down a hallway and into a room that’s the pit of the damned.
The chemical stink is stronger here. There’s a blinding light overhead, illuminating this hellscape. Two more guards are there, standing by the doors. There are naked women chained down to tables. I count six. Legs spread so wide it’s painful just to look at them. They’re mostly silent, a couple of them sobbing quietly. There’s a hopeless, broken quality to their sobs that chills my blood. There are two empty tables.
One of the men orders Darya to strip, and she glares at him but obeys. Fighting would just turn him on.
He pushes her over to an empty table and makes her lie down on it, face up. She lies perfectly still as he spreads her legs and fixes each ankle to a corner of the table, then does the same to her wrists. Most of the fight’s gone out of her. And me too. I’m too exhausted and weak to fight right now. I’m sure that’s why they have us half-starved and exhausted – to make us easier to manage.
And because that’s the kind of thing that turns these men on.
Other than the tables, the room is mostly bare, with some metal cabinets and a sink against one wall. A few chains dangle from the ceiling overhead, which apparently is standard torture equipment here.
“Willow. Willow. Can you help me?” a familiar voice husks from one of the tables, and when I walk over, I’m shocked to see that it’s Ludmilla. Her face is bruised and puffy, her lips cracked and bleeding.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask bitterly. “And no, I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself.”
She stares at me in misery. “Your father. He’s Cataha. And he’s the man who took my sister. I didn’t know.” She hiccups a sob. “When I made the deal with him…I didn’t know who he was. Everyone thought your father was dead. But he’s alive. He’s the devil come back to life.”
“Yes.” I intone the word without emotion.
“My sister…Sabina…she’s worse than dead. I wish she was dead. She’s became the mistress of a wealthy sadist named Mogens. She helps him train slaves.” Ludmilla’s eyes are vacant with shock. “Cataha, your father, he brought her in here and she spit in my face. She’s gone mad. She’s the same as they are now. He did that just to hurt me! It’s worse than them killing her.”
She twists her head to look at me with haunted eyes. “We used to play dress-up. We used to walk to school together holding hands. She was my shadow; she followed me everywhere, copied everything I did. And now she doesn’t care that I’m going to be raped and murdered. How did this happen?”
I narrow my eyes, refusing to offer her any comfort. “I wish I could say I’m sorry, but you betrayed me, and Darya, and everything you stood for. You could have helped Sergei catch my father, and instead you stabbed us in the back.”
One of the women twists her head to look at me. There’s a bruise on her cheekbone. Her ebony hair is plastered to her forehead with sweat. The look in her eyes makes me want to weep. She’s abandoned all hope. She’s muttering something to herself over and over. “I’m a stupid whore. I’m a stupid whore.”
Despair wells up in me. I want to rip those chains off her. I want to rush her to a hospital. I want to tell her that she’s all right, that she’s safe, that nobody will ever hurt her again…but that’s not what’s going to happen.
She’s going to die, just like I am.
I walk away. The guards are watching me, eyes burning with contempt and cruelty, fingering their weapons.
Vasily barrels through the door, and they all tense up. He’s muttering to himself as if he’s having a secret conversation that only he can hear.
His men look uneasy. Is there any way that I could use that? Not with him right there, but maybe at some point. I’m desperate. I’ll try anything.
My adopter, my tormentor, walks up to me, and I stiffen and brace myself for whatever horror he’s going to throw at me.
I look into his eyes and see a howling wasteland. Sanity left there long ago.
“I want to kill you, but she won’t let me,” he whines. “Your mother doesn’t want me to kill you. She said so. She talks to me, you know? Does she talk to you?”
It hits me like a hammer blow. So that’s who he thinks is talking to him. The guilt has driven him mad.
“No, never.” Because you took her from me, you psychotic son of a bitch. Because she’s dead.
He gloats at that. “I knew it. She talks to me and not you. She always loved me more.”
“I know it. I know she did.” It’s not true at all, but I’ll say anything to placate this lunatic. “But this is between me and you. Please let these women go,” I plead. “My mother was kind and gentle – she wouldn’t have wanted you to hurt anyone. Please don’t desecrate her memory like this.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “Since your mother doesn’t want me to kill you, I’ll give you a chance. One more chance. Prove you’re worthy of me. You can work with me. By my side. Are you strong enough to be a Toporov? Do you deserve the name?”
Do I deserve the name of a rapist and murderer? I strangle on a laugh of disbelief and horror. But he’s deadly serious.
He points at the women, and his lips stretch back into a hideous rictus grin. “You and me. We’re working together.”
I’m stunned into silence.
He can’t possibly mean this. It’s insane. But then, so is he.
He looks back at me with a sly smile. “Do you want to hear about my operation?”
No. Hell no.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please tell me about it.”
He starts walking towards the women on the tables, and reluctantly, I follow him. He waves his hand at them. “I have collected all these women over the course of the last few weeks. Not just the ones in here; we’ve got more in the back. Twenty-seven in all. Selected for their youth and beauty. We get them from nightclubs, and from a fake employment agency I have set up.”
I wince as I look at them, seeing the misery and despair on their faces. They’re thinking about how foolish they were, desperately wishing they could go back in time and do things differently. Wishing they were anywhere but here. Praying to wake up from this nightmare, and knowing they never will.
Vasily shakes his head in disgust as he looks at them. “Only four of them were virgins, I’m afraid. Women are such whores today.”
He falls silent, looking at me expectantly. “That’s unfortunate,” I murmur, instead of spewing venom in his face, shouting insults and threats.
But words are useless against him. I need a weapon. Something to cut him open, to make him pay for the agony he’s dealt out over the years, to make life a little fairer.
Maybe if I play along, I can get my hands on one.
Vasily rambles on, like a businessman giving a tour of a factory. “I’ve got buyers coming in two days. I’ve worked with them over the years, and they know I only sell the highest quality merchandise. They’ll pay to sample the wares, except for the virgins of course. Then they’ll pay me a fat fee for the slaves of their choice, and fly on home with them. Millions and millions of dollars. And I do this every month. I’m the go-to man in the whole region.” Sweat beads on his forehead as he brags to me.
I can’t believe how much he’s changed since I last saw him. He was haughty before, yes, but this is more like mania. Killing my mother has clearly eaten away at him, and I take at least some small comfort from that.
“I can see that you’ve got a highly profitable business here. Can you please let Darya go?” I ask him quietly, keeping my tone humble and my eyes cast down, the way I did when I was a teenager and he was my father. “Darya could work with you too. She’s worked in an office before.” Total lie, but I’ll say anything at this point. “I could…I could balance your books for you. I’m great at that. She could help me.”
He throws back his head and laughs, a horrible rasping sound.
“Are you really that fucking stupid? No. If you want to work with me, you have to prove yourself. My men are bored. I brought these bitches in here to keep them amused. So you’re going to pick which one they fuck first.”
“What?” I suck in a gasp of horror. “I…I can’t do that! That’s not helping you run your business! I mean…if you hurt the women, they won’t be worth as much…”
“I knew you weren’t worthy. I knew it.” Now his voice is a high-pitched whine. He points at Darya. “So we’ll take your little friend. I hate to waste a virgin, because they’re worth so much more, but you leave me no choice.”
What kind of sick logic is that?
Darya jerks at her restraints. His men start walking towards her, unzipping their pants, and her eyes widen in horror. She bites her lip and stares at the ceiling, her body as tense as a drawn bowstring.
“No! Ludmilla! Take Ludmilla!” I cry.
A nasty smile twists his lips. “Good, good. You’re coming around. Why Ludmilla?”
I sway where I stand, fighting not to weep. I make my mouth form words. “She…she betrayed me.”
“Yesss….” It comes out as a hiss of satisfaction. “Thinking like a Toporov. Yes. Very good.”
And his men line up as Ludmilla cries out and thrashes, struggling against her chains. The first man in line unzips his pants and climbs onto the table, on top of her. Then he spits on her face.
“Ugly old cunt,” he sneers at her. “Don’t think you make my dick hard, bitch. I’m just following orders.”
I hug myself and turn away. I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I just pointed someone out and ordered their rape. Ludmilla is shrieking as the man slams into her and the other guards, five of them, jeer and caw insults. Her body jerks on the table.
I’m sick. I’m so angry I want to burn them all alive. I’m shaking with horror. Darya is still strapped down, legs splayed open, and some of the men are glancing her way. She’s the prettiest girl in the room. How much longer can I keep her from being molested?
After the first man finishes with Ludmilla, he slides off, and a second man replaces him. Ludmilla lets out a hoarse cry of pain as he rams into her.
I can’t stand it anymore. “Please stop this!” I cry. “My mother doesn’t want it! She – she just told me so!”
Instantly, he’s mad with rage. “Liar! Liar! You said she doesn’t talk to you! Liar, liar, liar!”
He lashes out with his fist, and I hear my nose crunch and break, and there’s a split second when I don’t feel anything. Then the explosion of pain drives me to my knees, and I’m gagging on my own blood. The room wheels around me, and I vomit on the floor.
“No, no, no!” Through a haze of agony, I can hear Vasily’s tormented shrieks. “I had to! She talked back to me! She lied! That’s against the rules! You know the rules! I taught you the rules! Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
Then he snuffles pathetically.
“Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. I’ll give her another chance. You hear me? Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.”
Two of his guards haul me from the room and take me down the hallway into a room that’s been set up like a doctor’s office.
I collapse on a chair, head whirling.
A white-coated man in his forties comes in a few minutes later, and I sit stock-still as he carefully cleans up the blood and splints my nose.
My head throbs in pain. I feel nauseous and dizzy.
The doctor helps me sit up.
“When you went to medical school, did you think you’d end up going into business with men who torture women?” I ask him, my dry, cracked lips curling in scorn. “Your mother must be so proud.”
“I thought I’d be earning more money. And now I am,” he growls, and gives me a glass of water and two pills. “Antibiotics, painkillers.”
My hands are shaking so hard that he has to help me take the pills, and hold the glass. I gulp it all down, and then I’m allowed to use a bathroom.
A guard brings me in a roast beef sandwich, and I’m in so much pain I’m nauseous, but I force myself to eat.
And then I’m hustled back to my cage. Darya is already there, curled up, blanket wrapped around her.
“They put their fingers in me,” she chokes out. “But then your father made them stop because he says he’ll get more money for me if I’m still a virgin. He hit one of them on the head with his gun.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my voice sounding strange and nasal because of my broken nose. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” It comes out as a long, sad sigh. “I think I’m going to try to sleep now.” And she turns her back to me.
This cage is my life, and my life is now hell.