My nostrils flared as irritation welled inside of me. The maid must have pushed them open.
Pushing away from the door, I raced over and started to drag the dusty, threadbare curtains closed. With a room on the ground floor, I didn’t want anyone able to peer into my window.
Before I could shut the room-darkening shades, my heart seized. In the dusky darkness, I spotted a hooded figure.
My lips parted, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin. My eyes widened, searching the man for details. Did he have the characteristic tattoo on his forearm that would identify him as a threat to me?
Another man appeared around the side of the building, coming toward him. The first man pulled his hood off, a grin on his face as he extended his hand to clamp onto the second man’s.
With a relieved exhale, I realized they were just two random people, not someone after me. I finished closing the curtains and shuffled to my bed, removing my jacket and tossing it on the worn chair before I slumped onto the bed.
I groaned at the lumpy mattress before I covered my face with my hands. It had only been a week since I’d fled my home country, but it felt like it had been ages.
I kicked off my shoes and swung my legs up onto the bed, leaning against the flat pillow. Tears threatened to fall as I sat alone, the silence deafening.
The ringing of the burner phone in my purse split the quiet, startling me. I scurried off of the bed and raced for the nondescript bag.
The phone was my lifeline, and only a handful of people had the number.
I collapsed on the rather gross rug and dug for the phone, hoping I’d find it before the ringing stopped. With trembling hands, I grabbed hold of it and swiped to answer.
“Hello?” My school-bred British accent returned as my voice turned breathy. I was sick of covering it, of pretending to be American, but I had no other choice.
“Hey, sis,” my twin sister, Nadia, answered.
My eyes slid closed at the sound of her voice.
“How are you holding up? Any trouble?”
“Not really,” I answered, my voice breaking.
I let my head sink into my hands. “Ya khochu domoy,” I said through tears, indicating my deep desire to go home.
“Oh,moya sestra,” my sister answered with a click of her tongue. “I know that. But not yet. It’s still too dangerous. And stop speaking in Belvarian before someone hears you.”
“I’m alone in this disgusting room.” I wiped at the tear that had fallen to my cheek as I frowned at the dirty carpet on which I sat.
Scrambling to my feet, I brushed off my backside and headed back to the bed. It wasn’t much better, but a tiny bit cleaner.
“But you’re safe,” Nadia said.
“I’m safe,” I said with a sniffle. “But how much longer do I have to do this?”
“As long as it takes,moya sestra,” she answered. “But I’m not letting off on the pressure. We just…need time to regroup.”
I pressed my lips together.
“And you need to stay safe. You know this is what Papa would have wanted.”
My fingers curled into fists, my nostrils flaring. “Do not refer to him in the past tense.”
“Prosti,” she answered, her apology simple but heartfelt. “But right now we’re on our own.”
My lower lip trembled. “Still no luck with finding someone to help?”
“Nyet,” she said. “But I’m still working on it.”
My mind flicked to the man I’d met earlier. Intriguing, and sort of sweet, he’d never really left my thoughts, but with all the other stress on me, I hadn’t given him much thought until right now.
