Devil Woman

Feeling of helplessness that has haunted me since my birth.

I woke up to an unpleasant bump on my shoulder.

Something, or rather someone, was shaking my shoulder angrily. Slowly I opened my eyes and emerged. My door was open for Ivan.

Sleeping Beauty is awake, he laughs.

I glare at him and get out of the car.

Without my understanding why, a huge private jet was in front of me. I looked at the steel bird; I had never seen a plane so close before.

Damen has always been passionate about aviation. Suddenly something tightened in my stomach.

Where... where are you taking me?

Mademoiselle has lost her confidence, it seems. Come on, honey.

I will not move until I am told where I am being taken.

"Very well," he breathes before signaling to his henchmen.

Once again they approached me like emotionless predators. anyone, just someone.

The man groaned, and one of his colleagues came to hold my legs.

RELEASE ME, UGLY SNOT BALLS!

No matter how much I screamed at the top of my lungs, nothing helped.

Twenty minutes later I was tied up in the air, heading for the unknown.

At first I looked out the window in order to see any clue as to which direction we were going. Then, once I realized that it was really useless, I had, once again, fallen asleep.

When I woke up, the plane had landed, and, outside, it was early morning.

Standing Ivan spoke in an unknown language with a man.

I tried to understand what they were saying, but inevitably I hadn't been able to translate anything at all.

What did you expect? You don't even know what language it is!

After having finished discussing with the man, Ivan turned to me, and with the hand he beckoned me to follow him.

Anyway, I had no choice, so, like a Labrador, I followed him.

The wind whipped my face, sending my hair flying all over the place.

Once on dry land, my captor turned to me with his arms outstretched.

Darling, welcome to Russia.

If they want to dictate my life to me, I'll make a mistake in every sentence.

The moment his sentence was understood by my poor brain, I thought I was going to collapse.

I, Elisabeth Rosefield, had just been kidnapped and taken to Russia against my will.

How the hell am I going to get out of this mess?

In... in... in Russia? But fo... why?

You will know it one day; for the moment, follow me and shut up.

No, no, no, and no! I won't move until I know where you're taking me!

He approaches me with military steps and pulls out of his belt the blade he had already pointed at me.

I'm fed up with your childish whims; you shut up and move on. I've already been far too patient with you, so now either you obey or you're going to start to hurt.

I swallow hard and try to breathe.

I have no doubt that he would dare to carry out his threats.

In fact, I was even surprised that he hadn't done anything yet.

I am without the slightest opposition. Even though I don't recognize the person I am, I feel that my survival instinct has muted my desire for rebellion.

But I don't blame myself, knowing full well that without it I would already have scars on my body.

I climb against my will into another armored car, which very quickly engages on the highway, closely followed by a procession of a few cars.

We've been driving for a while when the driver asks Ivan in my language where to take him.

In the brothel

When my mind was reassured by the call "house," an alarm rang in my head. My brain had just understood the entire sentence.

They were driving me to a brothel.

WHAT?

And yes, honey, now you work in Russia, he laughs.

YOU CAN'T FORCE ME TO BECOME A WHORE! I screamed trying to unfasten my seatbelt.

I was seriously starting to panic when, suddenly, without my understanding anything, my cheek hurt.

Touching the ladder with my right hand, I realized what had just happened.

The bitch had just slapped me.

I gave him a dark look. He, not the least frightened in the world, started to speak:

"No need to look at me like that, darling; you were going hysterical," he sneers. If indeed I can force you—well, technically I can't, but the boss can.

How so? I asked.

You are his property, and like all the girls he owns, you will end up as a whore in a brothel.

Her laugh makes me want to stick two fingers down my throat and throw up. To throw up my life and the world I've just been thrust into.

Now I was someone's thing. A man I knew neither Adam nor Eve.

But I wasn't going to let it go. If these men thought I was going to accept that without flinching, they didn't know me.

Because if there's one thing I don't accept, it's not being able to decide my own destiny.

Then after all, there's nothing to lose; anyway, I've already lost everything.

I have to pee.

After a long time of reflection, working my neurons to find a solution, a plan, anything that would get me out of this huge mess, I had finally found it.

I was going to run away.

Not now

Do you want me to pee on the seat?

Serge stops at the next station.

The new driver nodded.

Ten minutes later he parked in front of a gas station.

I opened my door and headed for the public restroom.

Before I got into the ladies' room, Ivan grabbed my arm.

"You have 5 minutes," he said, standing in front of the door.

I went into the public toilets.

I pulled out a flat barrette that held a stray lock of hair in place and crouched down facing the door.

Fortunately for me, I had the dirty habit of always losing my keys. Because of that, over the years, I had become a master in the art of lock picking.

In less time than it takes to tell, the door was locked.

Then I tried to open the little window that looked out on the back of the building. As she refused to suffer, I had to, in record time, find a way to break her quietly.

Think, Elisabeth, think fucking.

Miraculously, when I saw the toilet, a brilliant idea germinated in my mind.

I flushed the toilet and ran to break the window quickly. After a few kicks, the thin glass gave way.

The shards of glass fell silently to the ground, their scenic melody hidden by the sound of the flowing water.

I tried to get out through the window, and despite my mother's criticism of my weight, I had no trouble getting out of this station.

I fell to the ground in a position as unsightly as it was unusual, but I didn't care. The main thing was that I was outside.

Realizing that this freedom would be short-lived if I did not put as much distance between these men and me, I started to run, not along the road but along the gardens of the houses built along the road.

I was running out of breath, turning right, left, with no map, no plan.

Despite my disastrous physical condition and my repeated bad grades in sports, I never stopped running. I no longer had the impression of being followed as I walked, regaining regular breathing.

Despite my assassin side points, I did not rest; I may have stopped running, but I did not stop walking.

After what seemed like several hours, night fell.

What am I going to become? I am alone, without money, in a country whose language I do not even speak.

Whining I didn't see the person in front of me, and I ran into him.