While showering, I thought of Mr. Jones in his office, telling me, “He laughed at me. Laughed, claiming he will never be with another.”
With a bar of soap in my hand, I was amazed by the feeling of being so loved. “Link wants to marry me.” That realization no longer scared me.
It felt pure.
It felt right.
Cheerfully, I thought about how I could use my money to get a little apartment or go to school somewhere near Link. By the time I was getting dressed, I had practically picked out a little home with a white picket fence for me and Link to live happily ever after in. Slipping on comfortable shoes to travel in, I kept laughing about thoughts of our kids and what we would name them. To represent their daddy, I chuckled at names like, “One Chain, Two Chain, Three Chain—” Laughing, I shook my head. “Fuck that. I’m not having three kids.”
Knock, knock, knock.
Skipping to the door to retrieve my room service, I mocked my future kids’ name, “One Chain, I said go clean your room before Daddy Link beats your ass.” I jolted to a stop and sighed. “Crash. Oh, yes. If Link is up for marrying a crazy bitch someday, we will name our boys Crash and Timothy.” I choked up. “And if we have a girl, Franky.” I nodded to myself. “Crash would love that.”
Opening the door, all dreams of Link Juniors drifted away… and a dire coldness took its place.
His strong accent was as sly as his menacing smile. “Hello, Little Treasure.”
There was more blood to be shared on the battlefield…
Seafoam and Storms
At the sight before me, adrenaline released and spread throughout my body as if a storm was rolling into the shore, ready to devour anyone or anything in its path. Yet, even with this added boost, I knew, without a doubt, I was in grave trouble. Until this point, I truly hadn’t had the sense of being in a foreign land. In desperate need of emergency assistance, I wondered if Russia had a 911 system. I highly doubted it. Even if such a service existed, how far did Yury’s reach go? Would anyone bother to help me? Or was the idea of pockets being cushioned with currency way more appetizing than the idea of saving an ignorant American?
Even though I was there to search for Yury, him finding me was the absolute last conclusion I would ever have considered. With my mind completely caught off guard, I stood there in a frozen state.
He was wearing a white button-up dress shirt. His dark hair matched his dark pants and shiny black dress shoes. “May I come in?” he condescendingly asked as if I had a choice.
Staring into the spooky blue eyes of the man who killed my boyfriend in front of me only two months earlier, I simply couldn’t move. Shock had taken control. My cheeks set fire in reaction to my body’s chemical response to life-threatening danger.
“No?” His smile deepened, stretching the scar on his upper lip. “Why not? We have such history, you and I.” Almost erratically, my eyes scanned left to right, hoping to see someone who could help me. Unaffected, he explained, “Don’t fear. It is very early. Vacationers are still resting. We will not be interrupted.”
Two men suddenly appeared and flanked Yury to confirm I was in deep shit. Yury’s backup both appeared to be in their thirties. The three of them together appeared so large and impenetrable, a tremble began to make its way through my body as I tried to swallow. My throat kept threatening to close and kill me before Yury could have the chance.
A man to Yury’s left, in a dark blue button-down shirt, sneered in a thick Russian accent. “Is it alive?” I instantly knew he was rude and purposely trying to be demoralizing.
Just when I thought I may be finally able to react, more jarring news was exposed. The man to Yury’s right seemed mesmerized. “This is definitely Seafoam’s child.”
As my mouth hung open, my eyes raced to his. They were dark, but his hair was very light. The coloring seemed off balance. His black shirt only added to the confusion. Or maybe it was the fact he knew my mother that had me so far off kilter. The name Seafoam seemed Disney like—animated. Only a few seconds passed before I understood why.
Yury almost moaned. “Yes, the eyes are identical.”
It was foolish, so foolish, but I closed my eyes. I felt they didn’t have a right to admire something they treated in such a vile manner. Link loved my eyes, claiming to get lost in the sea that shined from within them. At the time, it didn’t sound romantic when he said these things to me, but now, understanding his true feelings, he had given me so many clues about his love for me.
As I heard the men walk past me then my hotel door close, I realized trying to deny them something gave them much more. Opening my eyes, I saw Yury sitting in the chair I had been in during my epiphany only moments earlier. Through the window, I could see the sun was gone and clouds had rolled in, just like in my life.
The man in the blue shirt also had dark hair like Yury’s but had light brown eyes, and they were searching through my suitcase. I wanted to tell him to stop, but then I saw the awkward looking blond man holding my cell phone. My hand reached out, but he shook his head. His accent rang thick. “What is your passcode?” I stared at him, wondering what he wanted with my phone. He rolled his dark menacing eyes. “Yury. This one does not have her mother’s fight.”
My ears perked. My body tensed.
Yury took notice.
He grinned, lounging in my chair. “Would you like to hear more about your mother?”
My eyes raced to his as I tried to hide my eagerness.
It was pointless. Yury had an uncanny sense of one’s emotions. “She was made from fire. Her soul was full of courage, and she fought ‘til the day she broke.” He said broke with a touch of sadness before appearing lost in thought. “Then she was dead.”
Shared battle blood.
Then everything went black.
I woke in my hotel bed, under the covers, to Russians eating my breakfast. Startled, I rushed to sit up, pulling the covers closer to me as if they were a powerful barrier to protect me. Yury, observing me from my chair, smiled. “While ordering you more food, they asked if you are still checking out today.”
Somewhat hidden behind the blanket, I nodded. “I am.”
“Yes. You are.”
“I’m-I’m going home.”
“No. You are not.”
My lungs started to pant as I allowed anger to build. I growled, “You can’t stop me.”
Three sets of eyes found me.
I dropped the blanket and set my shoulders back, refusing to be intimidated.
All three men smiled.
Yury gestured to me but spoke to the others standing around a cart on wheels. “You see? Fire. She just needed a nap.”
“Fuck you.”
Yury leaned his head back and rubbed his chest as if being injected with a happy serum. “Yes, feed my hungry soul.”
The other two men laughed with my breakfast in their mouths.
Missing the humor, I snarled, “Give me my phone.”
The awkward blonde had the audacity to mock me. “Phone? What phone?”
“Fuck you, too.”
Recoiling against the headboard, I watched the blond storm toward me, unbuckling his belt. I’m not sure if he meant to force sex or beat me with the belt. Either way, he was livid.