“You seem mournful.”
Again, he tried to cover emotions. His hands stilled and his eyes went cold. “I mourn the loss of profit. That is all.” But his shoe shook as if his nerves couldn’t be silenced.
That is when I realized Yury was not only a human trafficker, he was also a liar. And if he indeed had a heart buried under his cruelty, he was my best option. Not the man who had already killed twenty redheads. It was time to turn back on my Whit charm Yury liked. I gripped the blanket, pleading to myself to be brave. “Well, all right, tough guy, seeing how I would rather live longer than eight months, with training, I choose you. So, what have I just signed myself up for?”
“Becoming my personal slave.”
My heart hammered with all the possibilities that could imply, but I forced a slight smile. “We’re not speaking about doing your laundry by chance, are we?”
He smiled in return. “Oh, Fire. It will be such a pleasure… to break you.”
Forcing a panic attack to stay at bay, I nervously teased, “Sounds like bundles of fun.”
“For me? Yes. You? Meh, not always.”
Stay calm, Whit. Your life depends on it. “G-Good thing for me I haven’t showered in days. That will, uh, buy me some time.”
Yury laughed. “I do like my girls clean. I’ll tell you what. I can offer you cold running water.”
“Meh.” I shrugged while choking on terror. “I prefer warm.”
“Your master is only offering cold.” He pulled out a cell phone. “But first I need you to call your parents.”
I sat up straight. “Really?”
“Yes. Tell them you are loving Paris.”
My body deflated. “Oh.” I knew my parents would believe the lie. My voice shook, no matter how hard I tried to calm it. “Can I call Link instead?”
Yury rolled his eyes. “Sure, and the American Embassy.” He handed me the phone. “Call your parents. No Link. He will hear your fear.”
“How are you so sure my parents won’t?”
A taste of regret washed over his face. “Your father gave your brother up freely.”
My Timothy… Yury was correct. And I knew it. My parents would’ve easily traded me in for another rise in the political world, gaining pity from the public while discarding a mistake. I asked, “Do your parents love you?”
After a slight hesitation, Yury, agitated, gestured to the cell phone. “Call.”
Since my predicament was beyond horrendous, finding my Whit balls was imperative. To test boundaries, I bargained with the devil for a simple request. “Warm water.”
Again, Yury smirked. He stared at me, seeming to be contemplating. Then he bowed his head. “Warm water.”
I tapped my mother’s cell phone number into the phone’s keypad. She answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
No matter how she’d treated me my whole life, I was in such a dire state that I couldn’t help but feel relief—hope even—hearing her voice. “Mom?”
“Dear, what number is this?”
There was no “How are you?” or any sign of emotion from my mother. I closed my eyes knowing she is probably as cold as Yury. “The hotel’s, Mom, here in…” Yury smacked my knee. I jumped, shocked by the pain. “P-Paris. I’m in Paris.”
“How lovely, dear. Do enjoy the sites. I must run now. Your father needs me.”
I wondered if she realized I didn’t ask to speak to him—hadn’t since I found out about him trying to dispose of me as if only a pebble in his corrupted career path. I wondered if she knew about the payoff money. I wondered if she knew what truly had happened to my brother.
It was then that I understood she had to have known. Her son was murdered, yet she claimed he overdosed due to his drug problem. According to Mr. Jones, Timothy never touched any illegal substance.
Mom knew everything.
My eyes opened so I could stare at Yury, so he could see how I was truly offering myself to him for Link’s sake. “I’m calling to say goodbye, Mother. There is no need to continue the façade. You don’t love me, never will. Be well.”
There was silence, then, “I think this is best for all. Goodbye, dear.”
And there it was, the moment I was utterly alone in the world, defending the young man who loved me. Chances were no one would ever know my sacrifice.
I whispered goodbye to my mother then hung up, feeling dead inside. Handing the phone back to Yury, I solemnly said, “You are literally using against me the only person who cares for me on this Earth.”
I was bewildered when Yury kindly took hold of my hand. “You are lucky to have one.”
Clinging to Yury’s hand, hoping it would be kind to me as more of this ordeal unfolded, I whispered, “Will I ever see Link again?”
“Frequently, if you behave.”
As my body lit up with hope, I asked, “How? Will you fly him here?”
“Only if I plan to profit from him.”
The young man’s pleas from earlier echoed through my mind. I shakily said, “No. I don’t want that.” Yury rose from the chair as if preparing to leave. “Wait!” I scrambled off the bed. “How will I get to see him then?”
He opened the door and placed the chair in the hallway. “You will earn it.”
“But—”
He held up a hand while closing the door again. “Conversations are not protocol between slaves and masters. If you wish to continue them, they must be kept private.”
This was excellent news, all considered. Yury was giving me special treatment. I pointed up. “What about being monitored?”
He pulled a remote from his pocket. “At my discretion.”
“Oh… May I ask how I will see Link?”
“I’ve already answered that question. You will earn it, as you will everything I give you. Now, take off your clothes.”
Blood drained from my face as I whispered, “So soon? I—I… I’m scared.”
His eyes drifted shut. “Music to my ears.”
“Hey!”
His eyes flew open.
Trembling, I stood my ground. “You promised a warm shower before we—” My hands nervously gestured between him and me.
He smirked. “I thought my word meant nothing to you?”
I swallowed while adjusting my stance. “Well… here is your chance to prove me wrong.”
He nibbled on the inside of his lips while contemplating again.
I couldn’t take the moment of silence while he decided whether or not to have a second of decency or to shatter me wide open. This wasn’t only about saving Link. I had to try to save me, too. “Please prove me wrong… Master.”
His mouth fell open.
Tricked and Traded
In the eerie quiet of the hallway Yury was guiding me down, the light was much brighter. My eyes squinted, trying to adjust. When my vision was no longer impaired, I noticed how bland the concrete walls were. Everything was dark grey and morbid. No windows. No décor. And, there was an alarming number of doors, all like mine, but most of them were closed. Through one door that was open, there was a blonde girl about fifteen years old inside the room identical to mine. I was surprised Yury let me stop and watch her plead to a guy about nineteen years old. He was extremely attractive—someone I would have chased with an eager smile—but remembering what Yury said, how his appearance is a tool for kidnapping, I knew this girl had been tricked by simply being enraptured by a young man who was an expert at lying.