Tough Love

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-One

I can see Paul's dark eyes staring into my wide, frightened blue orbs. I can see his pinched face as it comes closer to mine. I can smell that awful cologne he uses, the one that makes my stomach churn every time I get a whiff of it. He's not taking the hint. He's not moving away from me, even when I tell him no. I'm too shocked and scared to do anything, and even if I could, I doubt I'd be able to push him away. He's bigger and stronger than me and he has the advantage here. I see his face contort in anger as he pushes his lips against mine. I freeze, completely unresponsive. As his hands travel across my body, I just wait in fear for the inevitable. This is the story of my life. This is what men see me as; what they use me for. I should just get used to the idea, but I don't want to be a sex slave anymore! I don't want this life! I want to be free. Free from the mental and physical trauma. I didn't think I would get this treatment at work. Paul's groping turns desperate and he slides one hand under my shirt and the other into my pants. Just as I attempt to brace myself for the worst to happen, his weight is thrown off me and I'm in a heap on the floor.

I spiral away from that picture and I'm back in that disgusting room. I'm hanging from the ceiling, with my hands tied above my head. I'm blindfolded, so I can't see anything, but I know it is that room. I can smell the filth that is only associated with this place. Everything is more scary when you can't see. I strain my ears to hear where the man is, I have to try to brace myself for what will happen next. In this place, anything is possible so there is no way you can fully prepare. Just as I hear a creak, I feel a searing pain on my back. I smell burning flesh again and I know that he's got the blow torch out. This guy is an evil, sadistic psycho. He just loves to torture me. He heats a metal rod and then he holds the rod on my body as he watches and listens to the skin sizzling. Sometimes he just takes the blow torch to my skin, to see if it'll set on fire. He's sick. After he's seen how much pain I am in, then he claims my body just to add the final nail in the coffin.

Again, I'm spiraling out of that memory and into another. They just keep coming. I spiral in and then out. Leaving no break in the memories.

I see my poppa and my momma. We're in our home town in Russia. I see my momma's smiling face as I am sitting on the grass of our front garden, reading to her and my poppa. My poppa smiles at me affectionately

as he says, “Look at my svetlyak. Only 4 years old and reading grown up books. You, my child, are a miracle. I don't know how your momma and I got so lucky, but I am thankful every day for you.” I smile at him, beaming at the pride in his voice and then the picture fades into something much darker.

I'm in the car with my parents. We're on our way to one of my momma's dance recitals. Her students are putting on a ballet to raise funds for some charity. She's an amazing ballerina and I want to be like her, but my poppa says I have to finish school first. He's teaching me words in English, so I can go to a new school here in America. He's helping me to pronounce, 'subway' and I hear my momma scream before there's awful sounds; crunching, screeching and a loud bang. I hear my momma crying and calling my poppa. When she gets no response from him, I try to shimmy out of my chair to see if he's ok. My momma is pinned to her chair because the dash of the car has been pushed right into her. I know I'm crying, I can feel the tears pouring down my face, but I have to check on my poppa. His head is facing away from me, so I touch the back of his head to grab his attention. He doesn't move or speak and I feel a heavy weight sit in my stomach. I'm only 10 years old, I don't know what any of this means. I just know that something bad has happened, and even though I know I probably shouldn't, I turn his head towards me, just to see if I can help him in any way. His head is slack as I turn it towards me, and he's staring at me with wide and glassy eyes. I let out a scream, knowing that something is seriously wrong. I keep screaming and staring at him until the darkness engulfs me.

I'm in my momma's dance studio. She's wearing her dance clothes and she looks radiant. I'm just watching her dance and she's smiling at me, looking so beautiful. I speak in Russian to her, “Momma, can you teach me that?” She glances at me and replies in English, “Ah ah, Danica. No Russian. Only English now.” I pout, to which she chuckles, and I struggle to say in English, “It's too hard...” She laughs. I love that sound. “Nothing is too hard for you, my love. You are a miracle, with an amazing mind. You can do anything you put your mind to. I know you just prefer Russian.” She caught me out. English isn't as hard as I pretend it is. I just like speaking Russian better. “Momma, can you teach me?” “Of course I will. Come here my love.” We dance the evening away until my poppa comes to pick us up.

The memories just keep battering my mind. Some of them are good, some of them are bittersweet, and some of them are downright awful. All the acts of prostitution, all the drug use, all the beatings, all the burnings, all of the lap dances, all of the disgusting acts are thrown to the front of my mind. There's nothing I can do to stop them as they hit me like waves bashing the shore.

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Eli's POV

Dani's been dreaming for hours. I know she's dreaming because she's tossing and turning. I've listened to her scream and call out for her poppa a few times. She speaks in Russian often, but I can't get much of a translation from it. My Russian isn't very good yet, but I'm determined to learn it properly. I know she's not happy. She's been crying and I've had to fight every instinct within me to not wipe her tears away. Her breathing has turned erratic and I can sense the panic in her, so I carefully take her hand in mine and entwine my fingers through hers. She seems to find some form of comfort in that small gesture, because her breathing seems to settle, even if it is only slightly.

I remember my dad saying she'll most likely be out of it for a long time, so I decide to pull Dani closer and tuck her into my side. I notice how perfectly she fits next to me; how her slim body seems to match my muscular one in all the right places and counter balances my frame. I've never held her this close before and I almost feel like I am betraying her. I know that she wouldn't let me do this if she were awake, but I need this. I need to know she's safe, that she's with me and that nothing can harm her at this moment in time. I've already failed her more times than I should have. I have to live with the guilt of that. I need to feel her right next to me, just for now, because I know that when she wakes up I won't be able to do this again. At least not for a very long time.

It's nearly 6am and I'm so tired. I've been awake for 72 hours and I know I need to sleep. I just don't want to miss Dani waking up. I know she'll be frightened and freaked out and I need to be awake and alert to help reassure her. Despite trying to fight it, my eyelids feel heavier by the second and before I know it, I'm relaxing against Dani and I'm drifting to sleep.

A/N: Just a short chapter. I've been busy with funeral arrangements and I haven't been able to write much. I am trying to get through this rough patch as quickly as possible. I know you are all waiting for updates and I appreciate your patience and your kindness. Thank you all, you are awesome :)