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Do they have any idea what’s happened?
I want to scream for help, but I know that it’ll do nothing.
I’m trapped here, completely at their mercy, and the realisation of this awful situation makes my stomach drop.
I swallowhard,forcing myself to push down the panic, but it’s too strong, too overwhelming.
The twin who was already here in this room steps forward, pushing a plate of toast in front of me. My mouth waters as I notice the thick spread of jam on both pieces of bread. My stomach tightens too as a sharp pang of hunger gnaws at me.
I hesitate as I stare at the toast, unsure if I can trust it after everything that has been done to me, when my body betrays me. The hunger is too much, and I can’t hold back any longer.
Reaching out for a slice, I bring it to my lips, fingers trembling as I move it closer.
I take a bite of the toast, chewing mechanically, the sweet taste of jam overpowering the bland bread. It’s hard to swallow, but I force it down, taking another bite. The hunger inside me only intensifies, and I’m desperate to satisfy that ache. Though the food sits uncomfortably in my stomach, I continue eating.
For a moment, a small part of me wonders whether this might be poisoned, whether they wanted me to give in to this so they can watch me die slowly, obviously masters in this twisted game of theirs. The thought floats around in my head, and Ialmostwelcome it.
With death, I’ll be free.
With death, I’ll be reunited with my mother.
The pain of this nightmare will end, and these men willneverbe able to have me.
But the other part of me—the part that’s desperate to fight to survive, that refuses to give up—tells me that I can’t think like this. I can’t give these men the satisfaction of seeing me break. I need to stay alive, and I need to return to my family.
My Mama would want me to survive, she would want me to keep on going.
Taking another bite, I feel both gazes burning hot into me. They’re speaking softly again, languages changing between Russian and English, voices low so I’m not able to make out what they’re saying. I raise my eyes, noticing the way they both have their eyes on me, and it only makes me squirm uncomfortably in my seat.
Choosing to ignore them both, I focus on finishing the food in front of me. I force myself to finish both slices of toast, my stomach twisting with every swallow that I take. I don’t care if I’ll be sick later—I need to eatnow.As I finish my last bite, I can’t shake off the feeling of dread crawling up my spine.
My fingers shake as I rest my hands back down on my lap. My legs tremble beneath them, and I notice the dirt smeared all along my skin. The silence in the room is thick with unspoken tension. Neither one of the twins have said anything to me yet; they still haven’t told mewhatthey want, orwhythey’re doing this.
Not knowing their intentions behind this is the worst part.
The twin who fed me speaks first, and my eyes glance up at him, noticing the way his eyes flicker all over my face as his jaw tightens when he speaks in Russian. I don’t understand what he’s saying, but the intensity of his gaze, and the weight of his attention presses down on me. His twin leans back slightly, his arms now folded across his chest. They’re standing so close together, it’s almost as if they’re waiting for something—waiting for me to react, waiting for me to break.
I won’t.
Not yet.
I’m not giving them that satisfaction.
My mind races as I continue thinking of a way to escape, but the reality of this situation is suffocating.
How can I run?
How can I scream?
They’vetakenme, and now I’m trapped.
The worst thing is I have zero idea of their intentions behind this.
Glancing back down to my lap, I notice how white my knuckles have become. I force myself to relax, releasing a heavy breath out, trying to keep my composure. Every nerve in my body screams at me to do something—anything—to make this stop, but I can’t. It’s useless. Right now, I’m at their mercy, and the only thing I can do iswait.
Wait for them to tell me their reasoning behind this.
Wait for whatever it is that comes next.