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I don’t recognize his face. But it was dark when they opened the container. I was so out of it that I hardly remember anything. I know I fought.
He holds out his arm. “You bit me.” He chuckles as though this is amusing.
I stare at the bite mark in his flesh. It looks bad. I don’t remember doing that.
“Do you know how long you were trapped in there?”
I shake my head.
“Were you alone?”
I shake my head again.
He sighs deeply and swears under his breath.
“The important thing is that we got you out. We found you in time. You are going to be alright. You will rest and heal, and I will take care of you. I’m not going to let you out of my sight, I promise you.”
I think his words are supposed to be reassuring, but how can I escape if he is never going to let me out of his sight? All I want to do is escape. I don’t trust him. He has shown kindness and gentleness, but, for all I know, it is all fake. It could all be part of a plan. I don’t know what he wants from me. I have no idea when or if he might start making horrible demands of me.
I feel my stomach swelling in protest of the amount of food I have eaten, pulling at the stitches, and I groan softly, cupping my hand over the bandage on my abdomen. I wince at the memory of the man pushing the blade against my skin.
He chuckles again. “Too full? Well, I would rather have you full of food as opposed to being hungry. It will help you get your strength up. I think you should try and rest now, though. I’m going to give you a little bit of space, but I will be right across the hall. I can see your bed from my desk. You have nothing to worry about. If you call for me, I will hear you and I will come right away.”
He stands up, leaning towards me as though he wants to brush his fingers across my cheek. I flinch away and shut my eyes tightly, remembering the heavy fists that bruised my face. He quickly pulls his arm back.
“Sorry. Get some rest. I hope we can talk a little bit once you’ve slept.”
The tall, bulk of a man steps away from me, hesitant. I can see he is reluctant to go. He must know I want to escape. He must be afraid of that happening. Especially if he is one of the men who took me. They worked hard to take me, it must have cost time and resources, and they don’t want to miss out on whatever value I hold for them. I cringe, thinking of what that might be.
Even though he seems so genuine, I know I cannot fall for it. They are all snakes. They are dangerous. I cannot let my guard down.
I don’t know him. I have no reason to trust him. He says he rescued me with his brother—but he sounds just like them.
He nods once towards me. “Get some sleep, little rabbit.” Then he turns his back on me and steps out of the room, saying something I cannot hear to the man stationed outside my door. It appears that I have a security guard. Is that for my security or theirs? Is that to keep me in or someone else out?
I stare at the door for a long time after he has walked out of it. I don’t want to close my eyes; I don’t want to sleep and be vulnerable in that way. I am scared. Actually, I am terrified, but the longer I fight it the worse I begin to feel.
Finally, I give in and my eyes droop closed.
I drift off to sleep and immediately the nightmares return. I am fighting demons and monsters who are dragging me into the dark. I am screaming for help but no sound is coming out of my mouth. I am begging and pleading and kicking and clawing and scratching at everything that comes near me.
Chapter 4 - Kiril
She has been sleeping a lot. I spend most of my time sitting next to her bed.
Whenever she wakes up, I sit with her while she eats and chat to her. I ask her questions about who she is and where she is from, but she has not said a single word to me. The most response I have had from her is a nod or a shake of her head.
And, of course, the death stares. She is constantly glaring at me with intense hatred in her eyes. She projects onto me what they did to her. She will not open up and tell me anything. She must assume that I am one of them, despite me doing my best to reassure her over and over again that I am not.
I despise the fact that she thinks I would ever hurt her.
This afternoon I am in my office. I can see her lying asleep on the bed in the room across from me when suddenly there is a loud, heart-breaking scream. I leap out of the chair, practically launching myself over the desk to get to her.
She is tangled in her blankets; her arms are waving wildly above her head. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut and she is screaming. I grab her wrists and pull her up into my arms. I hold her tightly against my chest and her shaking body fights against me.
“Little rabbit,” I say loudly but gently, trying to save her from the horror of her dream. “Little rabbit, I’ve got you. You are safe.”
I rock her back and forth and suddenly her body is still and rigid. Her breathing becomes sharp and heavy. She is awake, but she remains pressed against me. She lets out a shaking sigh and then begins to sob. Her body shudders as she tries to catch her breath between the sounds of anguish that tear at my heart. I fight back the anger and pain I feel for what they did to her. Whatever it was. “It’s okay, little rabbit. I’ve got you,” I keep repeating, rocking her gently. I begin to think she might finally be warming to me. She might finally be realizing that I am here to take care of her.
