When a loss of sight is endured, other senses become enhanced.
Darkness.
All I saw, was the blackness that made me dread what was to come next.
I opened my eyes to find darkness, the haze that filled my eyes and mind burned.
I felt something covering my eyes and the realization dawned on me.
The men last night. They killed the guy that tried to help me, and they took me.
Anxiety rushed through my mind as I pulled on my wrists, something tightened on them, and I groaned.
I'm tied up.
I bit down on my trembling lips as I held back my tears.
Oh my god, they're going to kill me.
I froze when I heard voices.
There were multiple footsteps and I stayed perfectly still as they spoke.
"ona ustroila draku, glupaya suka . No ona stoit togo, chto ty yeye vide?" (She put up a fight, stupid bitch. But she's worth it, have you seen her?)
Me, they're talking about me. What do they mean 'worth it' ?
They're keeping me alive, but why?
They thought I was a prostitute, they carry weapons, speak Russian, and aren't afraid to kill innocents.
The worst possible case flooded my mind. Human trafficking, the Russian Mafia.
I bit back a cry as I focused on listening.
"poluchit' yeye ochishchennym vverkh dlya auktsiona i postavit' yeye s drugimi" (get her cleaned up for the auction, and put her with the others)
Auction? Oh my god.
I let out an involuntary cry and froze as their talking ceased.
"Ona ne spit." (She's awake)
I felt someone walk over to me and whimpered as my blindfold was torn off.
I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the room, three men stood before me.
I sucked in a breath and pressed myself to the wall behind me.
They were massive men, their faces hidden in the shadows of the stone room.
"Sweetheart, what is your name?" The man closest to me asked as he kneeled before me.
I flinched at his accent, it was strong and Russian, his face was stern and pale.
This was, from what I assumed, the Russian Mafia. These men were dangerous no matter what they said.
They killed a man who was trying to help me.
I was a born Russian, I had only moved to America a few years ago, I was fluent in the language, and I knew more than others about the Mafia. They were ruthless and bloodthirsty.
They didn't know I spoke Russian, and if I could control my accent, I could continue to understand what they were saying without them knowing.
"Calla. My name is Calla." I said slowly.
The man in front of me nodded in approval, "and your last name?"
My last name was Levkin, and it was Russian.
If they decided to look my name up, they would see I was Russian, they would see my past, and think the worst.
I couldn't give my real name.
"Evans." I said, my body was trembling as I pressed myself closer to the wall and hoped they didn't see through my lie.
He hummed, "beautiful, little Calla, will you come with me?"
I looked past him at the men as they watched intently.
"Do I have a choice?" I was trying hard to push my accent down, and so far it was working, I sounded American.
A small amused smile passed his lips, "no. I suppose you don't."
His eyes didn't reach his smile, his eyes showed anger, rage, and blood.
He didn't wait for me to say anything, because in one small movement, I was up my hands still tied behind me, he gripped my arm in a bruising hold.
I bit down on my tongue as the ropes cut into my wrists.
"Can you untie me?" I spoke slowly, fearing that I mode divulge my accent if I spoke too quickly.
He looked at me, his eyes untrusting, "I don't know, from what I heard, you put up quite a chase. You're a fast little girl. You climbed a thirteen-foot iron gate, and got an innocent killed."
I bit my tongue from screaming at him. I did not get that man killed, I did not pull the gun.
"If you promise not to run, because I swear to you little one, if you run, you will be punished. We don't need damaged goods." His demonic eyes warned me.
I nodded slowly.
Damaged goods?
My lower lip trembled but I said nothing.
He pulled a blade from his jacket pocket, and cut the rope.
My arms ached as I rubbed them, dark bruises surrounded my wrists.
He grabbed my arm, and pulled me with him as he dragged me out of the room.
"You need to get cleaned up" he said as he yanked me down a dim hall "you have another mans blood on you. "
We stopped outside a metal door and he pushed me inside.
It was a bathroom, poorly lit with grey tiled floors.
"Strip." He muttered gruffly.
I froze, my eyes went wide and my blood went cold.
"Wha-"
"You need to shower, you smell like blood. Get in the fucking shower."
I looked into the shower stall, there wasn't a curtain.
"There's no curtain..."
His arms were crossed as he leaned against the door, his eye brow cocked.
"What are you? A fucking princess? Sorry to tell you, but if you're not comfortable with getting naked in front of me, you're in for a hell of a ride."
He found this funny. I had never been sexually intimidate with anyone before, sure, there were guys that liked me, and wanted those things, but it wasn't my scene.
Sure, I was confident with my body, but not so much that I was fine with getting naked and showering in front of a total stranger. Not to mention, this stranger was a murderer, rapist, thief, and in the Mafia.
"You have about three seconds to strip, or I will do it myself, and trust me, you don't want that."
My lip trembled as I shrugged out of my dress, the material fell into a bloody pile at my feet, and I was left in a bra and lacy underwear.
His evil eyes took me in, he looked me up and down, he made no attempt to hide the sudden bulge in his pants as he nodded for me to take off the rest.
Tears welled in my eyes as I unhooked my bra, and slid off my underwear.
I folded my arms in front of me and blinked away the hot tears as I stepped into the cold stall.
I turned on the water and flinched as the cold water sprayed my face.
His bulge only grew, and I felt my tears mixing in with the water as he stared at me.
I turned my back to him and trembled, my hands shook as I washed the blood out of my hair, the red mixed in with the water as I scrubbed.
The cold numbed my body as I silently cried.
Suddenly the water turned off and I was pulled out of the shower, my head slammed against the tile and my vision blurred.
He held me against the wall, the bulge in his pants was pressed against me, he stood so close to me I felt his breath on my neck.
He lifted me completely off the ground, his strength was frightening.
He roughly grabbed my throat, "I could fuck you right here, suka. No one needs to know."
I coughed and sobbed as he pressed himself harder against me.
No, please no.
Fresh tears streamed down my face.
"Virgin" I coughed "I-I'm a virgin." I hoped that would mean something. I know that girls go for more if they're a virgin, although I don't want to be sold at all, I would do anything to prevent the situation that was about to unfold.
His lust-filled glare faded, and he let go of my throat.
He pushed off of me and I fell to the floor, I sucked in a breath as I coughed. My eyes watered as I struggled for oxygen.
He threw a stringy white robe at me, "get changed, now. Do it fast, or I'll drag you out of here naked."
He gave my body another glance as I slipped into the over sized robe and tied the string around me.
The second I was finished, he grabbed me and yanked me out of the room, my heart was still racing as he led me down another hall.
"W-where are we going?" I asked, I pushed my accent down through the panic.
"Shut the fuck up." He growled as he shoved me into another room.
I stumbled into the room. It was a small space, with racks of clothes, and a mirror stand that was filled with makeup.
A tall woman stood in the center, her hair was pulled tightly up into a bun, her expression indifferent.
"Get her ready for the auction today." The man muttered gruffly as he stepped back to the side of the room and watched.
"Come here." The woman said in a monotone, her painted lips formed into a straight line.
I walked over to her as she looked at me, she pulled my arms straight out to my side as she looked at me.
She observed me, her dark eyes trailing from over my face to my legs.
"Good figure" she said as she motioned for me to turn "very slim" She nodded.
"Long hair" she said as she held my dark wet hair in her hands, "blue eyes" she looked at my face, "very exotic, where did you find her?"
She asked the satanic man, as if I wasn't even there.
He glanced at me, "an alley."
"Where are you from?" She asked, her question directed towards me this time.
"New York" I lied, my voice shaky.
I held my gaze, hoping that they wouldn't see through my lie, but she didn't seem to care, she was already focusing on some clothes on the rack.
She picked out a black dress and folded it on the rack.
She snapped her fingers at me, "sit, now."
She pointed to the chair by the makeup stand and I shakily sat.
My eyes flickered to the man in the corner and I flinched at his deathly gaze that was focused on me.
"Hey" she snapped again "look at me"
I broke my gaze as she pulled out a brush and began painting my face.
"Your eyes are puffy, stop crying." She muttered.
I bit my lips as she continued to paint my face.
It was similar to when Brie was doing my makeup. She was pushy and bossy, like Brie.
Brie. A tear threatened to escape my eyes, but I swallowed down a sob.
I closed my eyes as she painted my face, she slicked eyeliner on my face, and swiped a tube of lipstick over my lips.
She then began drying my hair, leaving it curled around my waist.
Ten minutes later she snapped her fingers to signal she was done.
She handed me the dress, "change."
The mans gaze was still on me, she looked at him and pointed to the door.
"Out."
He stood his place and gave her an icy glare.
"If you want this girl ready for the auction, you will leave. I don't think you would want to lose something worth so much."
He gave me another death look before walking out.
"Change, now" her voice was less harsh as she handed me the dress and undergarments.
I nodded to her in thanks but she ignored me.
I slipped out of the robe and shivered as I slid on the bra and thong. I pulled on the flimsy fabric, it was short, revealing, and sleeveless.
I zipped up the back and stood with my arms crossed.
"W-where am I going?" I asked slowly.
She rested a painted hand on her hip, "look, little girl, if you want to survive this, you need to shut up and take what they throw at you. Don't try to be better than it, you're not, don't try to escape, you can't, don't cry, and certainly do not beg" she looked me up and down
"don't try to be smart, brains isn't going to get you out of this. You're very beautiful, that's not a compliment. That's the truth. Your beauty is all that you have now. Bite your tongue, and be strong. It's your only hope."
I felt the tears weld in my eyes but I did not cry. I nodded as I trembled, my mind was going numb and I felt myself shaking.
"Put these on" she shoved a pair of heels at me, "and sit down, you have bruises and cuts all over your legs."
I shook as I slid the stilettos on, my fingers shook as I buckled the clamp.
I sat in the seat as she covered the bruises and cuts with makeup.
I needed to survive this. I had to do it, even if it meant losing every ounce of my humanity, I needed to do it.
I'll survive now, and cry later.
I'm smarter than this, I am not who they think I am, I have an advantage. I will get out of this alive, I will take the beatings, rape, pain, and torture, because at least I know I am better than who they think I am.
Who knows, maybe for the first time in history, the Russian Mafia will have mercy on me because I am not what they think. I am not dirty, I will not let myself succumb to the evil of the Mafia. I am not what they think.
I am not a prostitute.
