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MARGOT

I t’s hard to know how long Arseni is gone, but when the door to this hell opens, it doesn’t feel like long enough.

I lie facing the wall with my eyes closed as if I have any shot at sleeping. As if every moment I’ve spent down here hasn’t made me tense with either dread or shame. I’m unsure which emotion has been worse.

My tormentor’s steps hitting the stairs cause my ears to thump, and when he touches ground and walks this way, I pull my knees up to curl into myself. Arseni’s cruelty feels like too much right now. My body feels spent and assaulted, my mind overwhelmed.

And yet, Arseni still isn’t my greatest worry. No matter how bad things get for me down here, it isn’t as bad as what will happen if He flies into a rage. He isn’t getting his money. Someone else has his girl.

He’s bound to retaliate.

When something crashes on the floor behind me, I flinch.

“I forgot to bring you this,” Arseni says in a voice so apathetic, I will him to disappear. It figures when the sound of his footsteps never comes.

I force my rigid body into a sitting position before turning to see the object Arseni threw on the ground. It’s just an empty five-gallon bucket, tipped carelessly on its side.

I narrow my eyes at it and don’t look at Arseni when I speak. I don’t want to see his face. “What’s it for?”

“What do you think it’s for?” His cold voice wraps around me in a vice that urges me to shrink away, but I resist. I study the bucket, searching for meaning, and when I find it, my stomach turns.

It’s a fucking toilet.

Arseni begins to walk away, off to terrorize another soul I presume. I move my eyes to his back and wish I could stab his spine. Paralyze him the way he paralyzes me. Torture him while he’s immobile.

But I couldn’t even if it was possible. I need him.

“Wait.” The word sticks in my throat like even my vocal cords object to his presence.

He pauses and looks back at me. His face is blank, but I bet he’s pleased with himself. I bet he wants me to grovel. It makes me hate him.

“Please…”

His head tilts while he studies me for several moments, then he walks my way. He stops just in front of the bed and continues to stare.

I look down at my knees. “I have to ask you for something… If you give it to me, I’ll do anything you say. No matter what.”

There’s a delay while he thinks.

“What is it?”

Closing my eyes, I count to three, then I open them to peer up at Arseni’s face, handsome but devoid of feeling. “I need you to take the money your friend stole back to the picnic table at the park.”

His lips curve upward while his brows bunch. “What?”

“Somebody is counting on that money. It’s vital that?—”

“Who?”

Who?

I swallow and resist the urge to look away, even as shame swarms me. “It isn’t important.”

“Then the cash isn’t important.”

“Yes, it… Arseni, please, I’m begging you.” I shift onto my knees and try not to hate myself as I clasp my hands together. “Please. Please . Just put the money back. I will do anything you say. I swear to you.”

His grin starts to slip. Maybe he doesn’t like the groveling as much as I thought.

When his arms cross over his chest, my teary, desperate eyes blur his image.

“Who are you afraid of?” he asks, genuine curiosity raising his pitch. “What could possibly be more pressing than your current situation?”

My mouth stays shut, though the answer comes immediately. I can’t tell him. I can’t tell anyone the seriousness of this situation.

Arseni wants to hurt my body. He wants to get off on my pain, embarrassment, and shame. He can destroy my body if he chooses.

But Him ? He will destroy my very existence. He’ll ensure everyone I’ve ever known will go to their grave scorning my name.

When Arseni walks away, my tongue aches from biting it. I force my jaw to open and prepare to say out loud for the very first time what I’m afraid of.

“I have a stalker.”

Arseni stops but doesn’t turn around.

“He—he has things on me that could ruin my reputation if they ever came out. I pay him two thousand dollars every month for his silence.”

Hands sliding into his pockets, Arseni faces me. “What does he have on you?”

I shake my head. It was hard enough getting the first part out. Now my tongue feels swollen.

Arseni stares at me for several moments while I pray he’s considering it, as if God has any business granting me this reprieve from my mistakes. If there’s a God, he’s not letting me pass the gate.

Without a word, Arseni turns and heads for the stairs. I jump to my feet, my heart hammering.

“Arseni, please , I need this,” I cry out, walking until the chain jerks me back. He doesn’t slow down, taking the stairs until he’s out of sight. “Arseni!”

When the door to the basement slams, I stutter out one last plea, heard only by me and the other lost souls once chained just like I am.

I sit on the bed while staring at the cuffs that dangle from the ceiling.

Beneath them is a large stain I can only guess is from blood.

I studied it earlier, and just like then, it causes a phantom pain in my wrists.

My back stiffens at the thought of a mystery instrument in one of the drawers slicing me.

I wish it wasn’t the least of my worries.