The doorman opened the door, and then she was gone with a slam.
I staredin silence out the back passenger window as we pulled into traffic and began the drive home. I felt shaky and chilled in the aftermath of my near hysteria. A wave of shame washed over me. Not because of my reaction, but because I was nearly twenty-two and still living like a teenager with a strict curfew, abiding by the rules of people who didn’t care about me.
I needed to escape this madness. They couldn’t make me marry someone against my will, could they? My mind raced at the boldness of Lena’s demands. How could I possibly escape?
The silence in the car was deafening, and when I lifted my eyes to the rearview mirror, I was again startled to see the intensity of the driver’s gaze as he watched me back.
I lifted my chin and spoke to him in Russian. “Is there something you’d like to say?” I knew my tone was just this side of hostile, but I didn’t care.
He stared at me in the mirror a few seconds longer before shaking his head. He replied in almost perfect English. “Not particularly.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You speak English.”
He briefly glanced back at me again, but he didn’t respond.
I swallowed hard against the big lump of emotion in my throat, but it didn’t help. This time I spoke in English. “You’re just as cold and calculating as the rest of them.”
Our eyes met again, briefly, but he remained silent. I don’t know why, but that irritated me. For a brief second, I envisioned kicking the back of his seat just to unleash some of the emotion coursing through my body, but I managed to override the thought.
Pressing my fingertips to my temples, I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. I worked to quell the growing panic within my gut. I needed to escape.
I had toyed with the idea many times, but multiple obstacles had stopped me. I needed my passport. I needed money. And I needed courage, something I sorely lacked.
I opened my eyes, and as I stared out into the darkness, I felt my resolve harden. I had officially run out of time.
While my uncle and aunt were out for dinner, I would search his office for my passport and some money. Once I had those items secured, I would make a break for my freedom.
It seemed an eternity before we finally pulled in front of the house. Without looking at Axel, I scrambled out of the car, and then paused. “I won’t be going out again tonight.”
“Have a good night, Mila.” His voice was low and calm, devoid of emotions.
Ignoring him, and the fact that he knew my name, I stepped out into the cold air and walked alone to the house. The next couple hours could determine my future.
Minutes later,I found myself standing alone in my uncle’s office. His safe was locked, but after rifling through all the drawers in his office, I found my birth certificate, my passport and my parents’ death certificates. I stuffed them all into my bag. In another drawer, I found cash, a lot of it. I took around 450,000 rubles, which was roughly five thousand dollars. I knew the moment they realized I was missing they would head to the airport.
I had a much better plan. I would head to Moscow and take the train, which had one stopover in St. Petersburg. Then I would continue on to Helsinki, Finland, where I would be able to catch a flight to Vancouver.
I didn’t have any idea what I’d do once I ended up back in Canada, but I could only plan so far ahead. My priority was to get away from my aunt’s insane threats of marriage. Nothing else mattered.
I returned to my room and packed a knapsack with a little clothing, toiletries and the few remaining mementos I had of my parents. Sadly, I was forced to leave my mom’s wedding dress behind, along with my dad’s trumpet, but it would be impossible to carry either of those items with me.
I used the staff kitchen landline to order a taxi to the end of our country road at one in the morning. This would give me plenty of time to catch my first train, which left at three.
I got fully dressed and waited in my bed. I could hear my uncle and aunt’s late arrival.
My uncle knocked on my closed door and even opened it a crack, but then he shut it again.
I could hear his low voice as he spoke to my aunt. “She’s asleep. We can talk to her in the morning.”
“This can’t wait,” she argued.
“Let the girl sleep,” he commanded. “Nothing will change between now and breakfast.”
Their voices faded as they moved to their wing of the house.
Eyes wide, straining against the dark, I listened to the familiar sounds of the house settling for the night. The minutes ticked by, too slowly.
Finally, it was time. I put on my coat and shoes and eased open the balcony door of my bedroom. It was connected to the main balcony that wrapped around to the back of the house. Once I was on the ground, I crept through the dark shadows of the garden, avoiding the long driveway, and made it to the road without incident. Then I spent the next thirty minutes hurrying to the nearest crossroads, the only identifiable location marker.
