Chapter 10
A man’s voice called again, hoarsely, “Nadiya?”
The word tunneled its way through the pain. The name seemed familiar. But surely I was Leisha? That had been my name when my mother had stood in the doorway of our beautiful home. When I had stepped onto the train with my uncle, preparing for the trip to Kiev.
When my world had turned upside down.
There was a square of light, now, filling my vision. But the shadow of the man retreated back. There was some distant conversation and then it was quiet again. I could see, at a distance, his form moving to sit.
The doorway remained clear.
He spoke again. His voice was low and tender. “Nadiya. It’s me. Alex.”
Alex. I knew Alex. Alex had the blue eyes and had given me the medallion. The medallion which had sustained me when all hope seemed lost. I had often wondered, in those depths of hell, why they had let me keep it. Surely my feeble attempts to hide it had not gone unnoticed. Undoubtedly it was because they were waiting for me to get just a little bit older. To reach a state when I was well trained and fully formed. For then the process of tearing me apart would be so much more shattering.
But I had stolen from them that pleasure. I had leapt out the hotel room window into the deep harbor waters below. I had swum, swum, swum, until I was lost in the wide ocean.
And I had become Nadiya.
Alex said, “Nadiya, you can do it. You can leave your prison.”
I looked at that square of light. It was an illusion. There was no way out. I was trapped in here until they dragged me out. If I moved toward the light, the door would slam shut again, backed by raucous laughter. And then the nightmares would resume. The slipping away of my sanity.
I had no control.
Alex murmured, “You can do it. You need to do it, Nadiya. You need to leave that box under your own power. To release its hold over you. That’s why you took all the doors off of every cabinet. Every closet. Because of this … this thing.”
I thought of my home, with its stack of doors. I thought of how the sight of a cabinet with a closed door brought tension to my shoulders. For it was dangerous. A threat.
And now I was within the box.
Alex’s voice wrapped around me. “You have the strength, Nadiya. You have the courage. You can do it.”
I couldn’t move a finger. I was wrapped as tightly as my body would twine.
He said, “For Olga. For all the others.”
I thought of Olga.
I thought of the countless women I had known, women whose only crime had been to be born with a body that men had craved. Women reduced to the status of animals. Of objects.
My resolve hardened.
For them.
I cautiously, slowly, straightened my fingers on my right hand.
Nothing. No alarm bells. No slamming of the door.
I released my left hand. Carefully, oh so carefully, I twisted my body so I was crunched down on my hands and feet. Pain accompanied every movement, but I pushed through it. My head now faced the window of light. I could still barely see beyond it.
I drew in a deep breath.
I stretched forward, so I was right at the edge of the door.
No motion responded. No sight of a guard.
Alex’s voice was a mere whisper. “You can do it, Nadiya.”
I leaned my head forward.
This would be where the door was slammed shut. Where I was launched back into the cube by the force of the impact. Where my head would ache, ache, ache –
Nothing. No motion. No sound.
I carefully reached out a hand, into the open space.
I put it down on the cold floor.
A lightness lifted me.
My second hand followed.
Then one knee.
A second.
Another stumble, and I was fully out onto the ground, breathing hard, the box behind me.
Alex crawled to me, coming to a stop before me. His eyes were shining. “Nadiya. I am so, so proud of you.”
My eyes were beginning to work again. The sunlight streaming in through the high windows had that golden strength of late afternoon.
How long had I been in the box? Nearly twenty-four hours?
I turned to look to him.
I blinked in shock.
“Alex, you’re hurt!”