But she never went over what to do if kidnapped by a high-profile Russian sex trafficker.
He drags the knife over my collarbone to my shoulder. “How is it you look like her then, hmmm?” He doesn’t let me answer, just stabs the knife into the fleshy part of my shoulder.
I can’t keep quiet now, the pain is blinding and quick. I scream out, a ragged sound. Tears form and fall down my cheeks. He pulls the knife out and presses it to my skin, a new spot, a new threat. Blood dribbles down my arm, droplets hit my thigh.
“I’m not Danuta!” I yell in his face.
He captures my chin with his free hand and turns my head until I can see his knife poised at my shoulder again.
“I swear it. I’m not her,” I whisper this time. “Please. I’m not her.” I plead in my mind for him to believe me. Because I’m not her.
“Tell me then. Tell me how you have her eyes, her hair, tell me.” I can’t see his expression. My eyes are focused on the knife, on the wound he’s already created. I can’t answer him.
“What do you think, Kristoff? Hmmm? Should we dose her with truth serum? Give her to the men? Maybe a dozen or so cocks shoved in her cunt and ass will help her speak?”
“It’s worked before,” the man from the doorway speaks. His accent isn’t as thick, his voice not as heavy, but just as full of authority. He has a hint of control in his tone, unlike Andrei.
“Answer me, suka.”
“I’m not her. My name is Magdalena,” I try again, sniffling and holding as still as I can manage.
He shakes his head like I’ve disappointed him again. Slowly, with purpose, he pushes the knife into my shoulder. It’s worse this way than the stab. I scream, cry out as more of the blade disappears into my shoulder. I try to move, try to pull away, but all that happens is a larger gash.
“I need more than that,” he says, starting to drag the knife toward me. He’ll flay my shoulder open if he keeps it up.
“I’m a freelance journalist. I’m writing a story on sex traffickers,” I cry out when he twists the knife. “I swear I’m not with the US government or any government.”
“You know Danuta then?” he accuses but doesn’t move the knife. So much blood covers my shoulder. My stomach swirls into nausea unlike any I’ve felt before.
I nod. “Stop. Please,” I beg, and hate myself for it at the same time. Danuta wouldn’t be so fucking weak. She would already be untied and have his throat between her hands.
“Tell me.”
Things won’t get better once I do. Things could get a lot worse. But the pain is too much.
“She’s my sister!” I say with the last gust of energy I have. “My older sister,” I whisper.
Andrei yanks my chin back until I’m looking right into his eyes. He’s searching me, to see if I’m lying probably. Like he’s a detective now. He has to know I’m telling the truth. Danuta wouldn’t have caved so easily.
He jerks the knife from my shoulder and a new burst of pain erupts. I scream, burning my throat from all of the yelling. My head drops forward when he lets go of my chin.
“You are a stupid girl,” Andrei says with disgust dripping from the words. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, but it’s the first time I’ve agreed. Coming to Europe, chasing the story, may be the dumbest thing I’ve done to date.
“Your men grabbed the wrong girl - but I’m the stupid one?” I laugh between sniffles. I’ve never handled stress well.
“You want a story about sex trafficking? I will accommodate you.”
Pain bursts through my head and the lights go out again.
AMAZON