I leaned against the kitchen counter and tried to gather my thoughts. Until now, I'd still hoped they'd let it go, but the fierceness in his voice had stripped me of any remaining hope. When my eyes fell on the knife on the table, I didn't hesitate. I grabbed it and swung at the stranger. Before he could react, I slashed his arm.
"Damn it! Take her!" The fun was over now.
I didn't have time to make a move. One of the thugs overpowered me, and another jammed a syringe needle into my arm.
"We're taking her to the car. Rudi, look around here and come down."
The drug had already kicked in before they escorted me out of the apartment. When I regained consciousness, I couldn't remember where or how I'd gotten there. A terrible headache proved I wasn't dreaming.
I was in some unused, small room. The window was boarded up, and the floor and walls weren't even painted. Attempts to open the door were unsuccessful.
Resigned, I sat in the corner of the room. The longer they didn't know I was conscious, the better for me. Eventually, however, I couldn't take it anymore and started pacing from wall to wall. Darkness reigned all around.
Suddenly, someone opened the door and turned on the light.
"I'm giving you one last chance," the stranger said, his voice devoid of emotion.
I didn't even know his name. Besides, it wouldn't have helped me anyway. He had a bandage on his arm. Apparently, the wound wasn't superficial. Somehow, I wasn't happy about it.
I remained silent. I was afraid to say anything. Finally, I lowered my head, and he left. But then one of the tough guys appeared, a bestial smile on his face.
When he left, I couldn't get up from the floor. I spent the night leaning against the wall, my head on my knees. The sunlight streaming through the cracks between the boards allowed me to orient myself.
One of the tough guys brought me bread and water. It wasn't a particularly elaborate breakfast. I was glad, though, that they hadn't planned to starve me to death.
That evening, and every night after, my bruises multiplied. I kept asking myself how it would end, what they were planning, where the line was… If they had wanted to kill me, they could have done it many times.
Finally, I understood they were waiting for me to break down and do as I was told. With only mosquitoes for company, I waited for something to change.
One afternoon, one of the thugs took me before a stranger. He didn't even spare me a glance. On the desk were neatly arranged papers and a pen. I signed. I wanted it all to be over. I had no strength left. Every movement hurt.
My clothes were dirty, sweaty, and bloody. I dreamed of a bath, a soft bed, a warm dinner…
"Will you let me out now?" I asked dryly.
"This is just the beginning," he looked at me and laughed. "You wanted this yourself."
I returned to my cell. I feared the worst; now they no longer needed me. Besides, was I even necessary to them? They could have forged my signatures. No one would have checked.
Like a dog gets a reward for a job well done, I got dinner. I ate greedily, as if it were the last meal of my life. I didn't even notice the stranger standing in the doorway.
"What's your name?" I asked when I'd satisfied my hunger.
"You don't need to know," he said sharply.
I lowered my head meekly and stared at my plate.
"Max," he said after a moment.
My hell wasn't over then. I was their toy, and they were probably planning to strip me of any hope. I knew they couldn't release me until the will overturning case was over. Knowing the courts' slowness, I could have stayed there for the rest of my life. But why did it have to hurt so much?
I signed one document after another, barely able to hold a pen. I didn't even see Maks. He always sent one of his thugs. That's why I was surprised when he showed up in my cell one evening.
"Come with me," he ordered.
I didn't have the strength to get up. He came over and tried to take me in his arms, but I slapped him across the face. I regretted it immediately. I didn't know why I'd done it.
"I'll pretend it never happened," he said coldly.
He carried me to the bathroom, undressed me, and helped me into the bathtub. I didn't care. I washed up, though I occasionally worried I might drown. I put on a satin camisole hanging on the hanger and left the bathroom straight for the bedroom.
It crossed my mind that I'd now be a different kind of toy, but the soft pillows and satin sheets stopped me from thinking about anything.
I woke up several times, but quickly fell back asleep. I only subconsciously registered the time of day. A knock on the door roused me from another sleep phase. I got dinner, and straight to bed. I timidly asked for coffee. Maks brought it to me.
"You've been sleeping all day. How are you feeling?" he asked, almost with concern.
I didn't answer. I didn't want to deal with him. I'd already suffered enough because of him. I didn't feel the need to be grateful that his next whim involved imprisoning me in more comfortable conditions.
"Don't be mad at me, because you don't have a reason yet. Should I have come to my senses right away? You only have yourself to blame. Do you think I have time to bother with you?"
His raised voice certainly didn't reassure me.
"Everything hurts," I said in a quiet, cracking voice.
He left and returned a moment later with a syringe filled with a clear liquid. If it weren't for the events of the last few days, I would have been inclined to suspect him of caring. The injection worked. I drank my coffee and settled comfortably. I could fall asleep peacefully.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were served in bed. I didn't have to worry about a thing. I had every comfort provided. I only missed company and a little kindness.
"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" Maks asked when he visited me the next day. "Would you like some newspapers, books?"
"Now you're going to keep me prisoner here?"
"Not in that tone," he said dryly. "If you're feeling up to it, there's a TV downstairs. You can go for a walk or go shopping. Do whatever you want. It just seemed to me you were too weak to get out of bed. I follow orders, but I won't tolerate your moods.
" "Sorry. I'm cold," I said quietly.
Considering it was the end of June, this didn't seem normal. Maks covered me with a blanket.
"You have a fever. We'll have to take care of that."
He also promised to have him buy me some newspapers. He was trying to be nice. I didn't know why. The longer I pondered the meaning of his behavior, the more confused I became. If these were just orders, he didn't have to bother personally. Especially since he was probably the most important person in this house.
Why was all this happening at all? Wasn't anyone looking for me? What was the case about the will being overturned without my involvement?
"What do you want to do with me? What about my job, my life?" "I asked Maks when he brought me some medication.
"We'll take care of our business, then we'll let you go. It's not my fault our collaboration was so unpleasant. It's your own fault. If you'd agreed to everything right away, you wouldn't have had to see either this place or me.
Was I supposed to regret it after the fact? Besides, I was almost certain that if I found myself in the same situation again, I wouldn't have agreed either. Maybe I'd have gone to the police, maybe I'd have gone into hiding. Collaborating with the mafia is just as dangerous as refusing to cooperate.
" "After your husband's death, you broke down, took unpaid leave, and went away to be treated for depression. This is supported by psychological reports. Your own testimony was even recorded by one such psychologist. You have nothing to worry about. You'll come back as if nothing had happened, and no one will ask any questions, so as not to bring up unpleasant memories.
" "You've thought of everything," I said sarcastically.
He smiled back and headed for the door.
"Rest." Next time, I'll tell you a few interesting things about your husband.
My husband's life was probably an open secret. Everyone knew he was a cheater, except me. A faithful wife is always the last to know.
What I learned about him made me feel nothing for him anymore. He became a stranger to me. It was amazing how easily I erased him from my heart. He was simply a scoundrel who used me.
Finally, I felt good enough to get out of bed. There were new clothes in the dresser, and cosmetics in the bathroom. I threw on a sweater and left the bedroom. I only had enough strength to walk down the stairs.
Maks laughed when he saw me. He offered me his arm and led me into the spacious living room. It had a fireplace and large sliding doors leading to the garden. We chatted over coffee. I wasn't one for sharing, but he wasn't about to keep the information he possessed to himself.
"Your husband was a broker in our business. Everyone was happy with the collaboration until the money we earned started going into his pocket, not ours. After he lost our blessing, he tried to figure things out on his own to repay the debt, but either it didn't work out or he felt bad about sharing what he'd earned. Judging by the wealth he left behind, the latter is more likely.
Maks took me shopping to make my time with him more enjoyable. We went to supermarkets and shopping malls. When I was trying to decide which blouse to choose, he'd take both and pay for them. I even managed to get a haircut at his expense. He wasn't too keen on the idea, as I was constantly green and purple in places and wore dark glasses that obscured half my face.
I cut my hair short and dyed it dark auburn. Robert would never have let me. But it was time for me to change my life. The new hairstyle was a great start.
Even under the constant supervision of Maks and his men, I easily concluded that I had been incapacitated for four years of my marriage. Despite the circumstances surrounding the end, I was glad it had ended now, and not later. I was twenty-nine years old and had the opportunity to start over. I couldn't pass up such an opportunity.
Robert only ate royal food, prepared perfectly, without fat, spices, or a multitude of other things, so cooking was a real torture for me. He would stand over me and constantly tell me what to do. Sometimes steamed, sometimes without butter, sometimes in foil… I'd lost my taste during that time, because I couldn't use pepper or hot paprika.
Looking back on it all from a relatively short time ago, I came to the conclusion that he was simply teasing me. That woman, with whom he had a child, definitely didn't steam his dinners. What had I done to him that he treated me like that?!
One day, to kill time, I decided to prepare something for Maks and his men. Ten grown men are hard to please with just anything. I didn't even know cooking could be so enjoyable. I spent almost the entire day in the kitchen, but it was worth it. The aromas wafting through the house elicited a quiet murmur of admiration from my tormentors.
The situation was starting to seem truly comical. When I felt like it, I cooked dinner for the gangsters; when Maks felt like it, he took me shopping and spent a fortune on me. And to think I was being held there by force.
"They've arrested your husband's murderer," Maks informed me when he returned from a day of taking care of some business. "Read it yourself," he handed me a newspaper with a double-page article and the large, bold headline "Double Motive."
After such a gripping read, I couldn't hide my shock. The husband of the woman Robert had an affair with was his coworker. What's more, he was his partner in business dealings with the mafia. Besides, my esteemed husband was stealing money from the company to pay off his debts. At one point, he said he'd already paid his share and left his partner alone. To ease his distress, his wife confessed to him the truth about her affair and their child.
Deceived in both business and personal life, the man decided to take revenge. He didn't intend to kill anyone, but Robert decided to protect himself just in case. During the scuffle, the gun went off, and that's how the murder occurred. At best, it will be considered self-defense. However, there's also the embezzlement charge.
"You knew all this, right?
" "Yes and no. We suspected him. After all, no matter how you look at it, the author of the article was right. The guy had a double motive to remove your husband from the world of the living. That's why we decided to get our money back with your help.
The days passed, the summer changed from sunny to cold and rainy, and I was still stuck in this insane situation. I had had enough. I wanted to go back to my two rooms with a kitchen, to work... I sat on the stairs, staring at the falling rain, and thought about it all. Tears quietly streamed down my cheeks.
"What's going on?" asked Maks, who suddenly materialized beside me. "Iza, are you feeling bad here?"
He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. He stripped off my clothes. He kissed my tears away. I could have said "no" at any moment, but I didn't. I felt good with him.
Only afterward did I realize I'd been making love to a gangster who, if ordered to, would have killed me without hesitation.
"We shouldn't be doing this," I whispered, still lying in his arms.
"I know," he replied, and kissed me.
That same afternoon, he received an important call and left for two days. But when he returned, he was gone. One evening, I greeted him furiously.
"Where have you been?!
" "What do you want?" he snapped. "What's your problem?
" "Nothing," I said.
Brak komentarzy:
Prześlij komentarz