Chapter 8 - Ruslana
Day after day, I sit alone in this room. The housekeeper escorts me to the bathroom so that I can wash, food is delivered in silence. Guards stand at the door anytime I am given my fifteen minutes and they watch me closely up until the point where I am locked up again.
Then, I am left in solitude for the rest of the day.
No one says a word to me.
And I’m going insane.
I thought that the way my brothers treated me was suffocating. I thought that having guards follow me around while I shopped and visited friends was torture.
But I had no idea what it was really like to be controlled. To be left alone with nothing but your own thoughts day after day, night after night.
I am, very literally, starting to lose my mind.
In the evenings, when Avraam comes into the room to sleep next to me, it’s a massive relief.
Just having a human being next to me—a live, breathing, real person to share my space with—but he refuses to speak to me.
I tried the first few nights just to ask questions.
How was the day?
How was the weather?
Did anything happen in the news?
Fucking anything. I just want to hear his voice to ease my own crazy thoughts.
But he wouldn’t reply.
That’s when I started picking fights with him.
And for some reason, he responded to that. He defended himself when I insulted him, and he threw back random, angry remarks when I said stupid things.
So that’s what I do every night now.
It’s all I have—and I need it.
Every day that passes by suffocates me a little more.
So, every night when he comes to bed, I argue a little harder.
Sometimes, the wordplay is fun and goes on for a while. Other nights, he snaps back a few comments and then huffs loudly before he falls asleep.
Tonight was a shorter conversation, and now he is lying with his back to me and his breathing heavy.
I watch him for a long while, just enjoying the fact that someone is next to me.
It grates at me, being so alone like this. I am a very social person and I have never been challenged in this way.
Watching him, and feeling the weight of his coldness towards me, tears start to stream down my face.
Fuck. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I don’t want him to hear me.
“Avraam,” I say his name gently, needing a few more moments of conversation before another long night followed by another long, empty, pointless day alone.
“What, Ruslana?”
“What do you do all day? Do you work or—“
“What kind of a stupid question is that?” he snaps angrily. “Of course, I work. I work like my father did, and like his father did before him. I work because every man should work. I come from a long line of strong, capable men and every man in the Abaza bloodline worked towards building a strong empire—“
“Abaza,” I mutter quietly, realizing he has let me know who he is. “Avraam Abaza,” I say his full name.
He spins around and glares at me, shooting daggers with his eyes.
He didn’t mean to slip up like that. I got through his defenses.
“Did your father do the same work you do? Did you take over from him?” I ask casually. If he is in an information-giving mood I may as well see how far I can take this. “Do you still work with your family?”
I wonder if he has brothers, how many, how big his forces are.
“Are you kidding me right now? Are you interrogating me?” he snaps angrily.
“No, I was just talking,” I reply defensively.
He clenches his jaw. Thick muscles feathering across his face.
He looks furious.
Then he shakes his head and throws the blankets off his body.
He stands up.
“Where are you going?” I ask in a panic. I don’t want to be alone. This is the only time of day I am not alone, and I don’t want that to end.
“I will be sleeping in my own bed. I need peace and quiet, not your constant whining.”
“I wasn’t—“ He is walking away before I can say anything else and anxiety begins to grip tight in my chest.
“Please don’t go,” I mutter, more to myself than him because he is already out of the door, pulling it closed behind himself.
It is the longest night I have felt since being kidnapped.
All night, I toss and turn, wondering if I have pushed my luck too far. If he will come back the next night or if he is going to completely avoid me now.
The next day, after the guards give me my usual fifteen minutes in the bathroom and the housekeeper delivers my breakfast—I sit in tense anxiety for hours.
Hour after hour after hour.
The day drags on until it grows dark outside.
I can’t gauge time, but I know that when the moon slivers past my bedroom window—it is near the time when Avraam should come to bed.
Tonight, I promise myself, I won’t say anything to him to upset him. Even if it means I don’t get to have a conversation with anyone—I would rather just have him next to me than spend another night alone like I did last night.
I wait, and the moon drifts past my window, creeping higher into the sky, completely out of my view. Avraam should be here already.
I sit with my back against the headrest, waiting, quiet, tense.
Silent tears roll down my cheeks and soak the front of my t-shirt.
He isn’t coming.
Even after I accept that fact, I still can’t bring myself to lie down in bed and try to get some sleep. I just can’t.
I can’t be alone like this. I was never meant to be alone like this.
The next day is worse.
It’s longer, colder, more empty than ever before.
And when night falls, I am in a complete panic.
I start shouting for him.
Screaming out into the silent house for anyone to hear me and come and speak to me. I just need to see another face. A presence. I need to not be alone.
I call out his name and nothing happens.
No one evens bothers coming in to tell me to shut up.
I start kicking at the headboard, pulling at the cuffs on my wrists.
I pull and tug and twist my hand until my skin is bleeding.
The pain distracts me from the fact that I am so alone in here.
The more pain I feel, the less I think about the solitude, so I keep fighting against the handcuffs.
Then suddenly, I fall back onto the bed, and my hand is free.
For a moment, I don’t understand what has happened and I just stare at my wrist, bleeding, already turning blue. My skin scraped away and raw.
I’m free.
In complete disbelief, I sit up, looking around the room.
All my noise and no one cared—but it doesn’t matter now.
I’m out of the restraints and I can get away.
I slide off the edge of the bed, flexing my wrist which is now starting to feel the pain of my escape.
But I’m so happy I don’t care.
I run towards the door, crouch down and pull out my hairpin. I can’t believe that I have still have it, but I’m so relieved I do.
I start working the lock, feeling like an expert when it clicks, moves and snaps open. I stand up and push the door open. No one is waiting there.
All that noise and no one cares to even check on me.
I bolt out of the door. At least I know my way out into the garden.
I run down the long flight of stairs that curves into the first foyer. Keep moving. Don’t stop.
Get out.
Go faster.
I’m out of breath, a little frantic. I take a wrong turn in the dark and instead of ending up at the back door through the kitchen, I end up at the front door.
There seem to be a million locks on here.
“What the hell are you doing?” his voice comes from behind me and makes me jump in fright.
I let out a sharp scream and spin around to face him.
My heart is hammering loudly as I stare at him, looking left and right, trying to figure out a way to escape. I can’t go back to that room.
I can’t be locked up alone anymore.
Tears start to stream down my face as he walks towards me with determination and darkness in his eyes.
“Please, don’t put me back in there,” I plead. He doesn’t say a word.
I take a step away from him and my back is pinned against the door. “Please, Avraam,” I try again.
He grabs my arm and tugs me towards him. “How the hell did you even get out of the cuffs?” He pulls my arm up in front of us and stares at my wrist where the cuff should me. Then his face falls flat.
He looks furious.
My wrist is still bleeding and raw and the sight of it seems to make him angrier than I have ever seen him before.
He shakes my arm, “What did you do to yourself, Ruslana? Why would you do this?” he asks aggressively.
I yank my arm away from him, screaming back at him. “I can’t go back in there. I can’t do it. I can’t be alone anymore!” I shout at him, my emotions surging out of me in panic and fear of being stuck in solitude again.
Avraam seems taken aback by my outburst.
He reaches out more slowly this time and pulls my arm forward.
Looking down at my injured wrist, his jaw clenches and his mouth pulls tight. He shakes his head and sighs heavily.
Then he starts tugging me with him as he walks back towards the stairs.
“No, please,” I whimper. “Please, Avraam—“
He walks silently, dragging me along. In the long passage that leads to the bedroom, he turns the wrong way.
My footsteps falter in confusion. He isn’t taking me back to the bedroom. But what does that mean? Where is he taking me? Am I in trouble for breaking free again? Is he going to lock me up somewhere more secluded?
I’m too terrified to open my mouth and say even a single word. All my talking is what got me in trouble last time. I can’t make this worse for myself.
He drags me into another bedroom, and instantly, I realize it’s his room—it smells like him. The scent of him is everywhere.
He pushes me towards the bed, forcing me to sit on the edge.
“Don’t even bother trying to run, Ruslana. This house is a fortress. You won’t get out of it,” he sighs.
I sit tensely, waiting for the punishment that is obviously coming.
He walks into an adjoining bathroom and I hear him moving around for a moment before he comes out carrying a first aid kit.
I bite my lip as he kneels down in front of me.