Because there was no part of me that could suffer through the life Erik was describing for me.
To be sold to a monster in the Mafia.
Then for that asshole to sell me again, or share me with other men so those pigs could breed me too.
I just couldn’t let this happen.
It was too awful to fathom.
Bigger and stronger, they could kill me for trying to escape, but so long as I had a breath in my body, I would fight to be free.
No strategy or plans formed in my mind that night. I was defenseless with nothing at all to use against my brother or hisfriend. I’d never had a phone. I was never allowed to read or watch TV. I knew no one but these two monsters.
My parents were dead.
One cousin, Raisa, remained as a memory in the back of my mind. We hadn’t been the closest of relatives when we were children, but I had never forgotten a similar look of hatred in her eyes when her strict father, Konstantin Petrov, scolded her. Like she felt the same hatred I held for my brother now.
Even further back in the recesses of my mind was the phone number she’d once given me. I’d never forgotten, tattooing those numbers into my mind should I ever need them like a lifeline.
The time to test it had come.
I prayed that however I got out of here, I could call her for help.
But how?
I didn’t even know where we were. That was part of the manipulation Erik and Yusef used on me, always staying mobile so they’d never be caught, so I’d never have a routine to rely on to escape.
All night long, I envisioned running away. Sprinting through the hallways I’d strode down with a blindfold when I arrived. Dashing down the stairs I’d climbed to get up here.
With nothing but the will to survive and banking on the power of mind over matter, as if sheer willpower could make me invincible, I dreamed of breaking out.
The sounds of Erik and Yusef drinking, laughing, and gambling in the other room would’ve prevented me from resting anyway.
Yet, that was the silver lining I had to take advantage of.
In the morning, Yusef opened the door to toss in a water bottle and a couple of stale pieces of bread.
He was sluggish. Hung over. Moving too slowly to react quickly. Perhaps it was a combination of his drunken, tired state and the element of surprise. I hadn’t tried to fight back in years. I hadn’t tried to run in over a decade. He could assume I was compliant, that he and Erik had successfully broken me down.
They hadn’t.
The allure of freedom was too tempting for me to give up.
In a blast, I shot up and ran for the door. Squeezing past him as he tried to close the door gave me just a slip of space. It was all I needed, though.
I pushed harder, sprinting as fast as my bare feet could take me. They always removed my shoes when I was taken to a new holding place. To better prevent me from escaping, I supposed.
But even that wouldn’t stop me now.
He yelled, swearing and rushing after me.
Erik’s voice came too.
The clatter and commotion of them both hurrying to get to their feet and chase me followed me like a dark cloud of anger.
But I was gone.
Running, jumping down stairs, then barreling through the front door. Details blurred as adrenaline pushed me forward. Faster. Further.
