Yeah, you’re totally fine.
I try to ignore the bile rising in my throat as I slowly unfold this mystery of Natalya and bite in the olive bread she gave me for dinner.
“Nat, I really need to clean myself up.”
“Oh my God, you’re right. I’m so sorry!” She squeals like there’s a new adventure in front of us. Then she hops off the bed and goes to unlock the end of the chain trailing from my hands.
“Let’s go.” She throws a handful of grapes to her mouth before we head out of the room.
The familiar hallway swallows us as we walk through and the smell of expensive perfume and cigarette smoke fills my nose.
This time she takes me through that big office, thankfully it’s not full of men this time. I quickly scan the surroundings as I finally see some new room. There’s another huge door in it, probably leading to the center of the building, some lobby, judging by the muffled voices coming out of there.
It sounds like five men at least.
Painful realization hits my chest—I’m never getting out of here.
We get into a huge bathroom, white and clean, equipped with tons of stuff and filled with beautiful, expensive scent. Natalya locks the door behind us and sits up on the bathroom counter, dangling her feet in the air.
I leave the dress on since the shower is apparently too luxurious for doors, and I step under the showerhead, trying to turn the water on with my hands clipped together and the long chain screeching against the floor. The hot water finally falls on my head and I close my eyes in sensation.
After a few seconds, I finally feel like a person, like I’m worth fighting for my life. I’m not rotten and stinky anymore.
I squeeze the shampoo pumper and lift my hands to my head, but the handcuffs are dangling around me together with that heavy chain, making it hard to actually wash my head.
Natalya jumps off the sink, heading toward me while she takes off her top and slides down her bottoms, leaving herself only in black lingerie.
I stop mid-movement.
Her body is firm, seemingly trained, beautiful, but skinny and bruised. My eyes sting with tears as I see the bruises covering her porcelain skin.
She steps in the shower and locks her body behind mine.
I freeze.
This feels a bit strange.
“Let me help,” she whispers to me and pumps her hands full of shampoo, then she rubs it on my head, gently and nicely so that I almost want to close my eyes.
But then I instantly freeze and realize again how weird this is.
She helps me wash my hair, the water running over both of us when she slides her hands down to my waist and turns me around.
My dress is soaked and stuck to my body and the last bubbles of shampoo run down my skin. She stands in front of me, just afew inches from my face. She’s a bit taller than me, long white strands of hair stuck to her wet body, and her eyes flicker around my face. Suddenly they lock on my eyes.
“You have those brown puppy eyes,” she whispers.
She tilts her head, looking at me like she’s remembering something, like she’s daydreaming.
I get lost in her eyes too, since they are the same as her brother’s. My chest burns with pain, longing for him, praying for him for too many days now. My brows furrow to suppress the painful sobs in my chest.
Her both hands cup my face under the water current and her lips get so close to mine I can almost feel them touching. I close my eyes in reflex when she starts whispering again.
“Do you miss him?”
I shoot my eyes open and frantically look for hers. Her pupils flicker between my mouth and my eyes, but for the first time since I’m here, I feel like they’re not empty.
My heart starts hammering so loud in my chest she can probably feel it.
