As the second man dropped the black travel bag at her feet, The Big Man in Black spoke in their Russian tongue. “Girl, now that you understand the rewards of obedience and the penalties of disobedience, it is time you begin training.”
“Training?” she dared to utter.
“Hush now, girl!” he barked, but his admonishment sounded half-hearted. He didn’t sound like his usual gruff self, but seemed almost uncomfortable.
“This man here will be your trainer. You may call him Mr. D. He will train you to fight, to survive, to kill.”
The girl’s head elevated now. She knew she shouldn’t, but she had to be sure she’d heard right. “Tokill? Why?”
The Big Man in Black leaned down to look into her eyes, and there was something odd there, something she couldn’t comprehend. “Do you like that little lamp over there, girl?”
She nodded. Dear God, please don’t let him take it back.
“Then hush!”
She snapped her mouth shut and ducked her head.
Straightening, The Big Man in Black reached into his leather jacket pocket, withdrew a small, black device and thrust it to her. “This is an alarm. You are to be up by five each morning. You are to dress in the garments provided in that bag, and you are to stand in wait at the door for Mr. D. If Mr. D arrives in the mornings and has to wait even a second for you, then you will suffer the penalties. Starting today, you will be better fed with a healthy meal, three times a day. In training, you will cooperate, you will take instructions without hesitation, and you will speak only when you are given the permission to do so. If you perform and behave well, you will be rewarded a considerable amount of freedom at the end of each month. So if you want to be removed from this room, train well, learn quickly, and never fail.” He paused and cleared his throat, and the girl watched his big feet shift his weight from one foot to the other. “At the end of each week, Mr. D will take his payment from you in whatever manner he deems fit.”
The latter of his sentence was spoken so thinly, as though it pained him to say them.
Unable to help it, the girl looked up at him.
Eyes downcast, that uncomfortable vibe was rolling off him again. And it made the girl nervous. Because if this man who had, a number of times, knocked her out cold without remorse, was uneasy about that last decree, then maybe she should be, too.
Swallowing hard, the girl swung her eyes to Mr. D, who was looking down at her in a way no grown man should be looking at an eleven-year-old girl. He had a big, bulbous nose, pock-marked cheeks, and a fat, black wart between his eyebrows. He scared the living daylights out of her.
“I don’t understand, sir. H-how will I pay you for training me?” she asked, risking the loss of her lamp. “I-I-I have nothing.”
A slimy grin crawled onto Mr. D’s face, his eyes glimmering. A thick hand moved from his side and toward her, his callused fingers landing on her bony shoulder.
The girl held her breath.
Using one finger, Mr. D slid the thin strap of her too-big nightgown down her shoulder. Then he switched to her other shoulder and did the same. The loose gown fell down her emaciated body and bunched up at her waist. And she fought to keep her hands at her sides instead of raising them to cover the egg-sized swells on her chest.
Mr. D reached out and pinched one of her nipples to the point of pain, then whispered in a creepy, rusty voice, “Oh, I think you do.”
Life was slow and dreary when I wasn’t occupied plotting Chad’s death.
Because I had no life, I had nothing to do. And, even though I should be plotting Chad’s demise, I wasn’t. Didn’t feel inclined to. And didn’t know why.
Or maybe I did…
Nadia showered and left for work an hour ago. I’d taken her home with me last night after hitting Chad in the Chill Room. She’d had not an ounce of reservation about leaving with me, even spent the entire day at my apartment, and was actually loath to leave for work earlier.
What with how listless I’ve been since Sydney left, her company was more than welcome. Plus she was malleable, and I liked that.
Tireless, too rested, and with too much energy pumping through my veins, I lay mind-numbingly purposeless in bed until I grew tired of staring the white off the damn ceiling.
My whole life was shit, uneventful and enclosed. The knowledge alone of being on a leash was enough to make anyone start hearing crazy voices in their head.
If I had freedom, then I could go wherever and do whatever, have friends, drink booze, get drunk.
But whenever I ran and tried to take my own freedom, I was always found. There was nowhere on this planet I could hide from The Voice without being found.
He always located me, and the repercussions for running were enough to make me think twice about running again.
It also didn’t help that I constantly felt like I was being watched byhim. Chad. The idea was crazy, of course. But whenever I was home alone, that’s how it felt. Even though I obsessively scanned for bugs and detected none, I still felt Chad’s eyes on me.
