Growing up, I was forced into a tight schedule. My mother threw a fit if I was ever late getting home, even when I had practice for a sport. Dad was even stricter, though. I wasn’t allowed to date, let alone look at any boys, hence why I attended an all-girls school. Heck, I hardly even could go to Becca’s house for a night.
In our house, we didn’t have TV. There was one computer, old as I was, and any internet I used was monitored. It was in my father’s office, and usually only used by him for his work.
The only way I was even able to spend the night at Becca’s this time, was because both of my parents were out of town for a seminar in Texas. It didn’t matter that I was eighteen, and very capable of taking care of myself.
Becca was getting ready to move out, tired of her parents fighting over every little thing, which I couldn’t blame her. She had been saving every dime she had to rent a small apartment on her own to get out from under her parent’s roof. She was not the sweet innocent girl she made everyone believed she was.
My best friend wasn’t a party girl, but she had explored a number of things, finding out what she really wanted to do and who she wanted to be. She fought tooth and nail to not follow what her parents wanted from her. Becca was the most determined out of the two of us to make her own way in any way she could.
~oOo~
I must have dozed off thinking of Becca, as I woke up to the feeling of being watched. No, not watched, stared at. As my heart thumped widely in my chest, I kept my eyes closed. Even with the feeling that my skin was crawling with a million tiny bugs.
“????? ???????? ?????????,” (what a beautiful treasure) the one watching me said quietly. It sounded as if he was speaking to himself, but the foreign words made me shutter.
I knew the words were spoken in Russian, but only because my father did a lot of work with a few Russian’s over the years. Although he didn’t speak about what went on, father always wanted to help anyone that needed it. From giving shelter to the homeless, or just being an ear to listen, he was there. It was his job, he’d say when I’d asked as a child. Seemed simple to a child’s mind.
“Shelomi,” spoke a rough voice. The same voice that belonged to the man that had taken me. Who was he?
“What?” the one that still refused to drag his eyes away from me grumbled.
“You were told to take the merchandise to be cleaned,” seethed the man.
“And I will,” the dark voice replied. I could practically feel the hatred within the room.
“Get to it. We are not to waste time,” the other man barked out.
It was then that I opened my eyes, and instantly wished I hadn’t. I was met with a pair of the darkest eyes ever. They even suppressed Hell in the depths of promises of pain and torture.
Blinking, I pushed myself further into the flooring, although I couldn’t possibly be any closer unless I was part of the floor. That really didn’t seem such of a bad idea. I’d gladly go to Hell than be here facing the devil.
The man’s face, what I could see of it through the long strangled black hair, had a week’s worth of hair around his chin and jawline. His thin cheekbones were high upon his dark face.
“Well, hi there, treasure,” he said, letting his lips spread into a wide, wicked grin. I noticed that his slightly yellowing teeth were missing one on the bottom row.
I remained unresponsive, not sure what he wanted or what he was going to do to me. I didn’t want to know anyway. I’m sure my eyes were wide in fear, as my heart continued to beat faster.
After what felt like hours, the nameless man unhooked my wrists. His skin was too warm against my own; it was nearly nauseating. He kept his smirk in place the entire time. I was never more thankful for the flimsy hospital gown that the so-called doctor had slipped on me hours ago after giving me an injection filled with more than just pain relief if the dazed way I felt said anything about it. Everything seemed to be a blur amongst blurs.
How long had I been here?
“Now, you won’t try to fight me, will ya?” he asked daringly. He wanted me to try that, just for his own sick pleasure. His dark eyes asked me to, nearly begging me to give him reason to use whatever force on me that he was capable of.
I quickly shook my head, fearing him; fearing my own life. Not that it was much of a life compared to some.
“Now, up you get,” he seethed as his too warm hand roughly went around my upper arm, forcing me to stand.
A wave of dizziness took over, but as my vision danced before me, his strong hold kept me upright. He laughed as though this was a game to him. Maybe it was. He seemed as though he was the type of sick bastard who enjoyed the pain of others. He lived off the fear of those around him.
It was a fight to keep myself standing and eyes opened as the man dragged me along. Who knew where I was headed now. The tiled floor was uneven as my feet moved on their own accord. A few places on the floor were still unkempt, catching my bare feet, cutting painfully into the tender flesh.
The hallways were dimmed, but glancing into the rooms that we passed by, I saw that there were others. Others chained to the walls. Some could be heard crying, begging to be let go. Even asking for death.
What was this place?
The man finally pulled me into a room that was set up as a shower room. There was another girl dressed in tight clothing and what appeared to be perfect black hair pinned up in a tight ponytail. She gave me the fakest smile imaginable as the man dragged me along.
“Vanesa, be a doll and get her ready,” the man said, pushing me towards her. I nearly fell over my own two feet before I could right myself. He laughed as I fought to keep myself upright.
