Page 6 of Savage Warrior

“I’m going. Those maniacs tried to kill me.”

“It was a bit of fun, that’s all.”

I can only gape at her. Is she actually fucking serious? Does she believe that crap? “I could have died,” I manage. “What sort of place is this? Don’t you protect your workers?”

Her eyes glint, the innate cruelty suddenly obvious. “What did you think would happen? You knew the score.”

“I didn’t. I thought I was a waitress, not a punchbag. You set those men on me. They’re animals, all of them. And you’re no better. I’m going to report the lot of you.”

I never see the blow coming. It feels as though my head explodes when her hand strikes me across the cheek. I stagger back and crumple to the floor. When the stars clear, she’s standing over me, her features contorted in malice.

“Grow up, little girl. You’ll report nothing to no one. Keep your mouth shut if you value your life.”

“But that man—”

“He’s a customer, paying good money for a bit of fun with a willing girl. Your job is to give him what he wants. Is there anything not quite clear in your job description?”

“I quit,” I whimper, hauling myself back onto my feet by hanging on to a chair. “Let me pass.”

“You don’t quit. You’re sacked,” she counters. “And don’t think you’re going to get paid for this evening. You’re lucky you don’t owe me. Now, fuck off and don’t come back.”

CHAPTER 2

Arina

I peruse the letter, at the same time choking back tears. Two days. Just two days, and we’ll be homeless. Again.

“What’s for breakfast?” Yuryl whines from his seat across the table. “Is there any butter?”

I shake my head. “You’ll just have to make do with dry toast. I’ll try to get something nicer for supper.”

“But I’m hungry now,” he wails. His eyes are glistening and his mouth trembles.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I reply. It’s all I can manage not to sit and weep myself. I’ve about as much chance of producing something decent to eat later as I do of flying to the moon. I’m hungry, too, but I’ve absolutely no money, an empty fridge, cupboards that even a mouse would turn up its nose at, and a final demand for two months’ rent. The landlord won’t give us any more time, and we’re out of any other options.

“I could skip school and go to the shopping centre today,” Natalija offers. She’s a lot more perceptive than she should need to be at her age. She hugs me. “One more day won’t matter.”

She’s started doing a few shifts cleaning at the shopping mall to help us make ends meet. Up to now it’s just been weekends and a few evenings. I appreciate her efforts. It helps, but it’s nowhere near enough.

I shake my head and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “No. You shouldn’t miss school. You need your education if you’re to get anywhere in life.” My papa always said so.

“So do you,” she reminds me wisely. “Let me help.”

I shake my head again, more emphatically. “Could you get Yuryl some toast, and have a bit yourself, then take him to school? I’ll deal with this.”

Willing as ever, she does as I ask, though I can see in her pinched features that she has no more confidence than I do that things will be okay. Even so, I manage to dredge up what I hope might pass for a reassuring smile when she hustles him out of the tatty flat.

I sit there for a further hour, contemplating our current dilemma. It’s not far different from any of the succession of dilemmas confronting us ceaselessly over the last few months. It all comes back to the same problem. We have no money. Soon we’ll have no home either. Nothing to eat, and no fuel to cook it even if we did.

That about sums us up.

If it was just me, I might be able to make ends meet on what I can earn. But it isn’t, so I have a choice. I need to earn more, or accept defeat and hand my sister and brother over to the authorities to take care of, at least until I can get myself together.

Which is no choice at all, really. I promised my father I’d look after us all and I mean to do just that. I pull on my coat and head on out into the chilly morning. I’ve made up my mind what has to be done and I see no point in putting it off.

“Oh. It’s you again.” Zora glares at me. “What do you want?”

“I need work,” I mutter.

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