Tears blur my vision, and I blink them back angrily. I can't do this. I can't let him break down my walls like this. It's too dangerous.
But he's already close. He's already inside my walls, inside my body, inside my head. If I let myself believe him, believe everything he’s said to me, if I let myself let go of the past… he could be inside my heart, too.
I go and lie back down, unwilling to shower and lose the scent of him on my skin, the languorous feeling of his hands and mouth on me. I close my eyes, and before I realize it, I’ve drifted off to sleep.
—
I'm backin the room with the stained mattress and the barred windows and the smell of sweat and fear and desperation. I'mlying on my back, and there are hands on me—too many hands, rough and grabbing and cruel. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I try to fight, but my body won't move. I'm frozen, paralyzed, helpless.
A face looms over me—Iosef's face, but wrong, distorted, his smile too wide, his eyes too dark. He's saying something, but I can't hear the words. All I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat, too fast, too loud, drowning out everything else. The hands tighten on me, bruising, hurting, and I try to scream again, try to beg, try to do anything, but I can't. I'm trapped. I'm always trapped. I'll never be free.
The room shifts, changes. Now I'm in a different place—a basement, cold and dark and damp. There are other girls here, huddled in corners, their faces blank and empty. I recognize some of them. Girls I knew. Girls who didn't make it out.
One of them turns to look at me, and her eyes are hollow and dead. "You're one of us," she says. "You'll always be one of us."
"No," I try to say, but the word won't come.
The walls start closing in, the ceiling lowering, and I can't breathe, can't move, can't?—
I wake up gasping,my body jerking upright, my heart hammering so hard I think it might burst out of my chest. I'm drenched in sweat, my nightgown clinging to my skin, and I can't catch my breath, can't?—
"Svetlana."
Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and I fight instinctively, my hands pushing, my body thrashing.
"It's okay, it's me, you're safe, you're safe?—"
Kazimir's voice, low and soothing, cuts through the panic. His arms tighten around me, not restraining but anchoring, and slowly the terror starts to recede.
I'm not in that room. I'm not in the basement. I'm here, in his bed, in his arms.
I'm safe.
The thought is startling. I’ve never thought that—safe—with him before. But it’s the first thing that comes to my mind when I realize who is holding me.
I stop fighting and collapse against him, my face pressed to his chest, my hands fisting in his shirt. I'm shaking so hard my teeth are chattering, and I can't seem to stop, to do anything but hold on to him like he's the only solid thing in the world.
"I've got you," he murmurs, one hand stroking my hair, the other rubbing slow circles on my back. "You're safe. I've got you."
For a moment—just a moment—I let myself believe it. I let myself sink into his warmth, his strength. I let myself be held.
And then reality crashes back in.
This is Kazimir. The man who abandoned me once. Who rescued me, but then kidnapped me instead of letting me go my own way. The man who fucked me in a safe house, who might be the father of my child, who gave me more pleasure today than I’ve ever had before…
I pull away sharply, scrambling back on the bed, putting distance between us. My breath is still coming too fast, my heart still racing, but I force myself to meet his eyes.
"I'm fine," I say, and my voice is shaking. "I'm fine. You can go."
He doesn't move. He just looks at me, his expression unreadable in the dim light filtering through the curtains. "You're not fine," he says quietly.
"I said I'm fine." My voice is sharper now, defensive. "I don't need you to—I don't need?—"
"Svetlana." He says my name softly, and it makes my chest ache. "Let me help you."
"You can't help me." The words come out even more bitterly than I meant for them to. "No one can help me. This is who I am now. This is what they made me."
"No." His voice is firm, almost angry. "This is what they did to you. It's not who you are."
