Page 13 of Dangerous Beginnings

Questions spiral in my mind, but there are no answers. I feel like I’m begging a god I don’t believe in, praying for a way out. And yet, the only one listening is the man outside the door. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, my face burning with the shame of it all. But then I notice the window, small and narrow, just enough for me to peek through. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to steady myself as I press my face to the cold glass. What I see makes my stomach turn.

They’re moving women, just like they’re cattle. They shove them into trucks, one by one, like animals being herded into pens. I watch in disbelief, my blood boiling with fury. Where the hell is security? Where are the emergency services? This can’t just happen, it shouldn’t happen.

Before I can process any of this, I hear voices in the hall. My breath catches.Where do I go?

I dart toward the only place left—an old closet, the smell of dust and stale air. I crouch down low, trying to bury myself under a pile of discarded police uniforms. It’s not much, but it’s all I have.

My hands shake as I cover my mouth, trying to silence my breathing. Footsteps grow louder, the thud of heavy boots making my heart race. The door bursts open, and I hear them enter, moving swiftly, efficiently. I see the red light of a laser dotcrawling across the floor near the cracks of the closet door.They have guns.I freeze, not even daring to breathe. This could be it. I could be caught right here, right now. But then, miraculously, they leave.

My body is still, the air thick with anticipation. I wait, counting seconds in my head, feeling the time stretch on forever. Is it a trap? Are they waiting for me to make a move? The silence hangs heavy in the room. Then, after what feels like an eternity, I hear nothing. I think it’s safe. I take a slow, shaky breath and ease myself out from under the clothes, creeping toward the door. Just as my hand touches the doorknob, a single set of footsteps enters the room. No red light. No chaos. Just one pair of boots. My heart stops.

I pull my hand back instinctively, my body tensing in panic. Then I hear it—his voice, smooth and dangerous, laced with a thick Russian accent.

“Isabella, get out of the closet.”

The blood drains from my face, and a cold sweat breaks out across my skin. He knows I’m here. He’s found me. I don’t move. I can’t. I’m paralyzed with fear. He’s taunting me now, playing with me. I hear him breathe in slowly, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.

“Already disobeying me?” His voice sends a chill straight through me. I feel the weight of it—the loss, the inevitability of what’s coming. But I can’t let him win. Not yet.

Tears streak down my face as I slowly, painfully, twist the doorknob. The soft creak echoes in the stillness, and I force myself to push the door open.

And there he is.

He’s sitting in a black chair, moved right next to the door. My only escape is now a memory. He’s blocking me in. He kicks the door shut with a brutal motion, the bang reverberating through the room like the crack of a gunshot.

I flinch, my body trembling as I take a step back. My breath hitches in my chest, and a single tear falls down my cheek, my lip quivering in terror.

He reaches behind him, pulls out a revolver, and sets it on the desk next to him—the very desk I tried to use as a barricade.

I feel my entire world crashing in on me. I’m going to die. I can feel it in my bones.

The sob that escapes my mouth is broken. Weak. I hate myself for it. I hate that I’m giving him the satisfaction of seeing me terrified.

This is it. This is the end.

Diable

She slowly crawls out of the closet. Her face drained of all color, and blue lips left. Her feet are bruised, I bet they feel like ice cubes. She slowly rises, she’s tiny. Her body shivers from the cold - or fear. As her bloodshot eyes meet mine more tears fall free. Slowly the room fills with sobs. She is giving me an earache with all that crying.

I place my gun on the desk, I have her right where I want to. The fear radiates off her. I could get rid of her right here and right now, but something stops me. Something in me enjoys playing with her. It makes me feel something, something different. It’s the fear that clings to her like a second skin, exactly what I crave.

My mask is still on, covering everything but my eyes. But she knows it’s me, so I reach for the black mask covering my face and pull it down.

“What’s all the crying for?”

Her sobs grow louder after my question, almost as if she has already accepted her faith. She does not look at me, she has only glanced at me once. She cannot face me; she cannot face her nightmare.

She hesitates, her whole body shaking, but I wait. Slowly, her eyes rise from the floor, meeting mine. They are filled with nothing but fear, true terror.

True submission, true defeat.

Isabella

His deep voice dominates the room. I can barely face him. He looks different. The entire dynamic changed. He is in charge now and no one is coming to my rescue. I swallow the thick feeling in my throat. I don’t want to be sold. I don’t want this. My eyes slowly reach up from the ground as I fiddle with my shirt. I curl up my toes on the tile floor, they’re cold. Even if I wanted to, I could not run far anymore. To be honest I can barely stand. My feet are frozen and barely hold my weight anymore.

As my eyes meet his, my heart drops, his face now exposed as he removes his mask with deliberate slowness. The mask drops down, hanging on his neck now. The act feels like a final ominous declaration of my fate.

The light from above catches the angles of his face, casting sharp shadows that make his features look as sharp as shattered glass. Without the mask, he looks more human, but also more terrifying.

---