Chapter 5

• Chapter: "Hell Burns"
• I don't have time to reply. I feel the sting in my arm, again, almost instantly I begin to brush unconsciousness and finally I go into deep darkness. The last thing I have seen is the evil look from him and the looming victory on his cyanide lips.
• ...
• I wake up abruptly, jumping on the spot, because a bucket of icy water has been thrown at me. The cause is that damn Russian who does not stop yelling at the top of his lungs. I can hardly find myself in a bathroom, not just anyone, this place is luxury everywhere. There is no longer a trace of that ancient room he was in. I'm naked, it's humiliating to be like this, exposed to the unhappy… Aleksander? I think that's his name.
• I don't know if it's been a long time since the shadows of a compelled dream caught up with me. All I'm aware of is bloody torture from my captor.
• -Enough! Why are you doing this to me?! I break out trembling, I'm afraid I'm hypothermic, although at this point nothing could be worse than it already is.
• "Don't ask, you have no right, get in the bathtub." He demands in a strong voice.
• "I-can I shower by myself, please ..."
• Deny, I was afraid of it.
• The next few minutes I have to endure the path of his hands moving all over my body. Not only does he rub a sponge over my skin, but he shamelessly gropes me. He takes advantage of the situation, and for fear of receiving blows I resign myself to it. I feel an oppression in my chest that burns, it causes me dyspnea, I never felt so dirty than now.
• "If you abide by my rules, your stay here won't be so painful," she says. The statement does not ease my soul.
• I will suffer, there is no doubt, it will hurt me anyway, in fact it already has.
• Tears mix with the cold water, my teeth begin to chatter, my body shivers from the low temperature. Deep breath. After a while he has washed my hair too.
• "Stand up," she orders, helping me to notice that it is difficult for me to move. I'll take you to the bedroom, you're going to stay in bed, okay?
• He gives me a towel, as I can I wrap myself in it. After opening the door, I find myself in a room that is not usually the site for a kidnapping. Everything is bright, modern and elegant. It is a bedroom that exudes pride in each element. It is not possible to be there, disbelief occupies half of my head that still does not believe the atmosphere that is breathed.
• "Look at me, I don't know how I could walk, I'm thirsty, hungry ... You see I can't even take a step," I whisper weakly.
• "I'll give you food, just go ahead." "She insists."
• The walls combine pastel tones that for a moment give me warmth, which is taken from me when I put my feet on the grotesque reality. Although it seems perfect, it does not end up being it, the purpose of the luxurious room is hostile, a malevolent objective that points to me. There is a huge black plasma TV, a couch at the foot of the bed as white as the sofa set near a window, the satin curtains cover the glass. And finally I lay my eyes on the huge bed, accompanied by nightstands with lamps on each one.
• I abandon the scrutiny, the evil being next to me has left me on the edge of the bed. I have a feeling that a lot of things will happen on that quilt that will mark me, getting used to the idea from now on will not make the pain less devastating, but it will not take me by surprise. I know very well that I will end up ramshackle, maybe dead.
• I don't know, how could I know? All this sucks, hell burns, now that I live it in my own flesh, I wish salvation. The police are probably already looking for me, maybe mom or dad thinks I'm dead. It's crazy not getting the exit, nothing comes to mind. My instincts were chained together with the vigor contained in my being, he absorbed it, that unfortunate Italian, now another seeks to inhale my last breath.
• And ... I want to succumb.
• Clack, clack, clack ...
• That sound detonates me inside, it is thunderous to my sensitive hearing. I'm dying of cold, he hugged me as much as I can, thus causing heat, it is not enough. Aleksander throws me a white nightgown, nothing more. I will not demand underwear, it is obvious that he will not give it to me. Still under his deep gaze, I crawl into the fabric, managing to warm my stiff muscles.
• I dry my hair a little, but I am losing the thread, the sense, I faint in a snap.
• I wake up with the sting on my face. I touch my cheek, something remains there on the wound, it is a bandage, I gasp turning my head to the side. All oxygen drains from my lungs when I run into it. He approaches with a glass of water that I yearn so badly to drink, dying to do so.
• "Open your mouth, I don't have all day to yourself," he growls, I obey, the first drop that wet my lips gives me breath and the first sip brings me back to life. The doctor checked you, you're not bad. You will recover, it is only a matter of days. Here, it's borsh.
• I look surprised at the soup, next to a piece of bread. Its color is a deep red, I have no idea what it will contain, I decide to eat it. It's food anyway.
• "See you soon, I have other things to do," she explains, withdrawing without turning to look at me again.
• I don't answer, whatever it is that tastes too good, maybe it's my voracious appetite that makes the peculiar liquid irresistible. I sigh when I go for the fifth spoon, I decide to taste the bread and alternate it with the soup. A couple of minutes later you finished gobbling. I feel better. My hopeless state has disappeared.
• Then I find myself looking from one side to the other the enormous space in which I am. What could you do in these huge four walls? I wish the course would stop, I wish I could flee. My eyes are anchored in the doorknob, turning it will be in vain, however with the illusive hope that it can give me freedom, I advance until it turns, but it has insurance.
• Damn, I'm locked up, which shouldn't surprise me, it still hurts, makes me powerless and infuriates me at the same time, I clench my teeth.
• I go back to bed and settle back on the pillows. In dismay the questions often return. Questions cluster in my head, convoluted thoughts that do not help me, they only weave hypotheses, false alarms. I really try to make sense of my kidnapping, but I can't find any connection between the Russian mafia and my family. The uncertainty wobbles me, it's a swing that goes back and forth, I don't know anything about these guys. But… what information do they know about us?
• I cannot take it wisely, I must clarify the causes, something that points to reason. What if there are no reasons? What if I'm not really the one who should be here?
• I twist my hands stranded in the anguish that does not go away, worse still appears with greater determination, and I again pretend that I sleep when I feel the arrival of a person.
• The steps shake the wood, to me, I just blink when noticing that he is not a man, that he is not the wolf. To my surprise, she is a short, young, smooth-looking woman. She is holding in her hands a lot of… Folded blankets? It seems.
• I do not know how to act in front of her, but she gives me confidence, so I am encouraged to start a conversation, at least I start with a greeting.
• "Hi, my name is Luna Miller," I introduce myself. She barely smiles at me and I wonder if she understood my words. You haven't understood me, have you?
• "Private," she replies with a friendly smile. I am Alena, I just came to leave this instead of my partner, and yes, I do use your language a little.
• -Hears…
• "Please don't try to talk to me, she sees that I'm quite busy and I'm strictly forbidden to talk to you."
• "It is not my intention to harm you, but if you could help me out, I am innocent, I did nothing wrong to be locked in here" she whispered desperately.
• "I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it," she laments in a low tone. She then goes to the closet and places what she brought into her room. My heart beats hard, it beats wildly, the rush hurts, but it destroys me more than anyone does anything for me.
• But her attitude is understandable. She wouldn't risk losing her job, much less putting her life in danger by helping a simple stranger. In her place, she would not do it out of the same fear.
• Before leaving she looks at me with pity, she is tied up, without options, she is not in her hands to help me.
• "You're not like them, I see it in you," I say in a whisper, but audible.
• —I know he is innocent, and I am very sorry that he has to go through this, I only ask him for discretion and that he obey, young Konstantinov is not cruel. She, "she assures, withdrawing immediately.
• What is not cruel? She must be joking, Aleksander is the Devil himself.
• I lay my head on the stacked pillows. Lying down I think of my father, of Grace, my seventeen-year-old little sister; Fruit of my father's marriage to Amber, the woman who has cared for me with love for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately I lost my biological mother to an illness when she was still months old.
• I never had the opportunity to meet that wonderful being that she had in her womb for nine months, but dad has enlivened the memory of her in me, starting from the pleasant moments that he lived next to her.
• Suddenly I think of the social circle in which the Millers move, ideas cross, possibilities that within it are people who could harm me. So many whys are a hodgepodge in my brain. It is not nonsense to believe a relative or friend involved with what I now live. In that case, who could do something like that to me?
• It remains a question mark.