3. Chapter

Present

I don't have time to reply. I feel the sting on my arm, again, almost instantly I begin to border on unconsciousness and finally I go into a deep darkness. The last thing I saw was his evil look and the hint of victory on his cyanide lips.

...

I wake up abruptly, jumping immediately, because a bucket of icy water has been suddenly thrown at me. The cause is that damned Russian who won't stop shouting at the top of his lungs. I barely manage to find myself in a bathroom, not just any, this place is luxury everywhere. There is no longer a trace of that old room he was in. I'm naked, it's humiliating to be like this, exposed to the unfortunate... Aleksander? I think that's his name.

I don't know if it's been a long time since the shadows of a forced dream caught me. The only thing I know about is damn torture on the part of my captor.

“Enough! Why are you doing this to me?! “I blurt out trembling, I'm afraid I'll get hypothermia, although at this point nothing could be worse than it already is.

“Don't ask, you have no right, get into the bathtub. “She demands with a strong voice.

“C”can I take a shower alone, please...

Deny, I was afraid.

For the next few minutes I must endure the journey of his hands moving all over my body. Not only does he rub a sponge on my skin, but he shamelessly gropes me. He takes advantage of the situation, and for fear of receiving blows I resign myself to it. I feel a burning tightness in my chest, it makes me breathless, I have never felt so dirty than now.

"If you follow my rules, your stay here won't be so painful," he says. The statement does not soothe my soul.

I will suffer, there is no doubt, it will hurt me anyway, in fact it already has.

The tears mix with the cold water, my teeth begin to chatter, my body to shiver due to the low temperature. Deep breath. After a while he washed my hair too.

"Stand up," he orders, helping me when he notices that it's difficult for me to move. I'll take you to the room, you're going to stay in bed, okay?

He gives me a towel, I wrap myself in it as best I can. After opening the door, I find myself in a room that is not usually the place for a kidnapping. Everything is bright, modern and elegant. It is a bedroom that exudes pride in each element. It is not possible to be there, disbelief occupies half of my head that still cannot believe the atmosphere that is breathed.

"Look at me, I don't know how I could walk, I'm thirsty, hungry... You see I can't even take a step," I whisper weakly.

“I'll give you food, just move forward. “She insists.

The walls combine pastel tones that for an instant give me warmth, which is taken away from me when I place my feet on the grotesque reality. Although it seems perfect, it is not, the purpose of the luxurious room is hostile, a malevolent objective that points out to me. There is a huge black plasma television, a divan at the foot of the bed, white like the set of sofas near a window, satin curtains covering the glass. And finally he laid his eyes on the huge bed, accompanied by nightstands with lamps on each one.

I abandon the scrutiny, the evil being at my side has left me at the edge of the bed. I have a feeling that many things will happen on that quilt that will mark me, getting used to the idea from now on will not make the pain less devastating, but it will not take me by surprise. I know very well that I will end up ruined, maybe dead.

I don't know, how could I know? All this stinks, hell burns, now that I experience it firsthand, I wish for salvation. The police are probably already looking for me, maybe mom or dad think I'm dead. It's crazy not to get the exit, nothing comes to mind. My instincts were chained together with the vigor contained in my being, he absorbed it, that unfortunate Italian, now another seeks to inhale my last breath.

And... I want to succumb.

Clack, clack, clack...

That sound detonates me inside, it's thunderous to my sensitive hearing. I'm dying of cold, hug me as much as I can, even causing heat is not enough. Aleksander throws me a white nightgown, nothing more. I will not demand underwear, it is obvious that he will not give it to me. Still under his deep gaze, I get into the fabric, managing to warm up my numb muscles.

I dry my hair a little, but I'm losing the thread, the meaning, I faint in a snap.

I wake up with the sting on my face. I touch my cheek, something remains there on the wound, it's a bandage, I gasp, turning my head to the side. All the oxygen drains from my lungs when I run into him. He approaches with a glass of water that I want so much to be able to drink, I'm dying to do it.

"Open your mouth, I don't have all day for you," he growls, I comply, the first drop that wets my lips gives me breath and the first sip brings me back to life. The doctor checked you, you're not bad. You're going to recover, it's just a matter of days. Here, it's borsh.

I look at the soup in surprise, along with a piece of bread. Its color is an intense red, I have no idea what it will contain, I decide to eat it. It's food anyway.

"See you soon, I have other things to do," he explains, leaving without turning to look at me again.

I don't answer, whatever it is because it tastes too good, perhaps it's my voracious appetite that makes the peculiar liquid irresistible. I sigh as I reach my fifth spoonful, deciding to try the bread and alternating it with the soup. A couple of minutes later you finished swallowing. I feel better. My hopeless state has disappeared.

Then I find myself looking from one side to the other at the enormous space in which I am. What could I do in these huge four walls? I wish the course would stop, I wish I could escape. My eyes focus on the doorknob, turning it will be in vain, however with the illusory hope that it can give me freedom, I advance until it turns, but it is locked.

Damn, I'm locked up, which shouldn't surprise me, it still hurts, makes me helpless and makes me angry at the same time, I grit my teeth.

I go back to bed and settle against the pillows. In unease the questions often return. Issues gather in my head, mixed thoughts that don't help me, they only weave hypotheses, false alarms. I seriously try to make sense of my kidnapping, but I can't find any connection between the Russian mafia and my family. Uncertainty rocks me, it's a swing that goes back and forth, I don't know anything about these guys. But... what information do they know about us?

I cannot take it wisely, I must clarify the causes, something that points to the reason. What if there are no reasons? What if I'm really not the one who should be here?

I wring my hands stranded in the anguish that does not go away, worse yet it appears with greater force, and I go back to pretending that I am sleeping when I feel the arrival of a person.

The steps shake the wood, I just blink when I notice that it is not a man, that it is not the wolf. To my surprise, she is a short, young, soft”looking woman. She brings in her hands a pile of... Folded blanket? It seems.

I don't know how to act in front of her, but she gives me confidence, so I feel encouraged to start a conversation, at least I start with a greeting.

“Hello, my name is Luna Miller “I introduce myself. He barely smiles at me and I wonder if he understood my words. You haven't understood me, have you?

“Priviet,” he responds with an affable smile. I'm Alena, I'm just here to leave this in place of my partner, and yes, I know your language a little.

“Hey...

“Please don't try to talk to me, I'm quite busy and I'm strictly prohibited from talking to you.

"It's not my intention to harm you, but if you could help me get out, I'm innocent, I didn't do anything wrong to be locked up here," I whisper desperately.

"I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it," he laments in a low tone. Then she goes to the closet and arranges what he brought in his place. My heart beats hard, it beats wildly, the attack hurts, but it destroys me more than anyone doing anything for me.

But his attitude is understandable. She wouldn't risk losing her job, much less putting her life in danger by helping a simple stranger. In her place, she wouldn't do it because of the same fear.

Before leaving she looks at me with pity, she is tied, without options, it is not in her power to help me.

"You're not like them, I see it in you," I say in a whisper, but audible.

“I know he is innocent, and I am very sorry that he has to go through this, I only ask for discretion and to obey, young Konstantinov is not cruel. “He,” he says, leaving immediately.

What is not cruel? You must be joking, Aleksander is the Devil himself.

I lay my head on the piled pillows. Lying down I think of my father, of Grace, my seventeen”year”old little sister; fruit of dad's marriage to Amber, the woman who has lovingly taken care of me for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately I lost my biological mother to an illness when she was still months after being born.

I never had the opportunity to meet that wonderful being who had me in his womb for nine months, but Dad has revived his memory in me, based on the pleasant moments he lived at his side.

Suddenly I think about the social circle in which we Millers move, ideas cross, possibilities that within it there are people who could harm me. So many whys form a jumble in my brain. It is not nonsense to believe that a close friend or relative is involved with what I am now experiencing. In that case, who could do something like that to me?

It remains a question.