Chapter 6

• She had been locked in that room for two days now, and no one had crossed that door. She had already drunk the water in the glass on the bedside table after hearing the gunshot.
• She was thirsty and hungry, weak and had wet the bed several times out of fear and necessity, although she couldn't understand where the liquid was coming from if she hadn't drunk anything.
• She needed it all to end already; for hours, she hadn't heard any movement near that room. It seemed like she had been left alone, abandoned, and condemned to die slowly.
• She had called out to someone several times the day before, but no one came to help her because it seemed like there wasn't a soul around her.
• She was tired, her voice wouldn't come out anymore; she had cried too much and dreamed of a bottle of water. Then she began to daydream about her rehearsals at the club when they ended, and then her bottle of lemon-flavored water awaited her. She loved lemon-flavored water, and she could taste it.
• She smiled as she imagined all of that.
• ***
• For the past couple of hours, he had been immersed in the void of his thoughts, in that meeting full of alcohol. Two days ago had been Kirill's funeral, and since then, he had been spending his time away from home.
• He was slowly recovering, and he believed that the best thing he could do for himself and his team was to give them a well-deserved party.
• He held a glass of whiskey in his hand, bored surrounded by women who wanted to flirt with him, but strangely, he didn't take any of them seriously because he was lost, staring at a nonexistent point.
• Kirill, the clown who had accompanied him for years, was no longer there to make him laugh and converse.
• "We should ask for a show," Igor sat beside him, looking at him while he returned the gaze, suddenly interested and entertained.
• That sounded like something Kirill would have said.
• "And where do you intend to get one?"
• The blonde smirked, crossing his arms.
• "Forget that you have a captive pole dance dancer?"
• Instantly, seriousness returned to his face. He had forgotten about that girl and was surprised he hadn't remembered her during these days, especially since she was the cause of his boredom and problems.
• Was she still alive?
• "Go fetch her," he sighed, leaning back comfortably in his chair.
• Igor stood up with a smile on his face, suddenly eager to meet the girl who had done him the favor of getting rid of Kirill. He quickly got up to search for her; he also wanted to know in what condition she was since they had abandoned her.
• Elisa had fallen asleep after dreaming about the lemon water she longed for, and in the distance, she could feel someone's presence beside her and their breathing. She opened her eyes with difficulty and found a man standing beside her, looking at her.
• She didn't know him. What did he want?
• "It smells bad," were the words that let her know she wasn't dreaming.
• She closed her eyes upon hearing him. Of course, it smelled bad; she was covered in old blood, and her legs were soaked in dried urine.
• Receiving no further response from the girl, the blonde uncovered her, finding her naked body covered in dried blood. It smelled bad because he could also see the sheets wet with urine.
• "How cruel Andrei is," he smiled at that.
• Elisa didn't respond. She felt dead and weak, also humiliated, but she was too unwell to feel ashamed of the blonde staring at her.
• "Here," he handed her clothes: a pair of shorts and a black latex top. It would make a perfect combination with the blood that covered her like scabs. "Hurry up, they're waiting for you..."
• The girl took the clothes and sat up to put them on.
• Maybe with that, she would get a glass of water and some food. She couldn't miss that opportunity, besides, she didn't feel capable of resisting anything after those dramatic days she had gone through.
• When she was trying to fasten the clasp of the top, her shoulder wound flared up. Igor pursed his lips and approached her, taking the clasp to fasten it behind her back.
• Upon making contact with her skin, he knew she was cold.
• He didn't hate her; rather, he was fascinated that she was the author of Santoro's death. So why not be kind?
• When she was ready, she turned to the blonde behind her.
• "I smell bad..."
• The blonde massaged her shoulders to give her a little warmth, without intending to cause pain to her wound.
• "No one will care," he reassured her. "When we get there, I'll let you drink something."
• He offered his arm, and she took it.
• She walked alongside him with difficulty, feeling tired and weak. Her leg also hurt. She had forgotten about those gunshot wounds.
• When they arrived in the hall, panic seized her because she saw herself in a mirror in that deplorable state. She looked around, men staring at her with whispers and smiles, drinking from their glasses and cups.
• She glanced at Igor, who began to lead her to a pole in the middle of the room, a few meters from Andrei whom she didn't look at because she didn't want to look at anyone.
• How had they found out she danced on the pole? Who had they shot a few days ago?
• When she saw a man nearby with a glass of alcohol, she licked her lips, walking as if enchanted towards that person to ask for that liquid, which was given to her by a gesture from the blonde accompanying her.
• The brunette frowned and locked eyes with Igor. Why hadn't he cleaned her up before bringing her here?
• She could barely walk, and her wounds seemed still open, but seeing her with dried blood on her body reminded him of who that girl was and what she had done, letting everyone there know that she must have done something to be exhibited in that way.
• "Dance," Igor commanded her, going to the side of Andrei, who stopped looking at him to look at her.
• Elisa looked at the long-haired man, feeling a lump in her throat as she recognized him.
• The music started, and she hesitated to move. It was the same song she had danced to on the night she condemned herself.
• Why did they have to know that?
• She looked around, and everyone was waiting for her to move, so she did. However, when she got on that pole, she fell down heavily on her knees, letting out a small cry. She simply couldn't bear her weight, and her shoulder burned terribly as she forced it. Plus, she had no strength because she hadn't eaten anything.
• Everyone looked at her, and she couldn't lift her gaze, staring at the floor as tears began to fill her eyes. She could understand what they were looking for; they were humiliating her, and she could hear Miki's voice telling her, "Stand up and shut them up."
• So she did. She stood up and got on that pole, managing to hold onto it and move a little, but her shoulder and her leg failed her again, causing her to fall backwards and feel her bones crash against the cold floor.
• She cried and looked at that ceiling that offered her no shelter, wishing it would crush her.
• "Enough!" the leader of that place's voice echoed throughout the room, immediately lowering the volume of the music.