9. Sofia #2
The shower is one of those rain shower things with the shower head in the ceiling, which I always thought was a nice thing in theory—and a nice thing for me earlier since I hadn’t had a shower in days—but I’m really not interested in washing my hair every day and not getting it wet is nearly impossible in one of those things.
Wish I could cut my hair. A wash and go style would be perfect for that kind of setup. As it stands now, I’m going to have to either lean awkwardly away from the water or get a swim cap.
Just the same, I checked maintaining my hygiene off Titus’s list. When I got out, there was a plush, white robe hanging on the back of my bathroom door, and thank goodness.
Walking around in just a dress shirt and tennis shoes made me feel more exposed than if I had been naked this whole time.
The soft material against my skin was more than welcome.
When I walked out of the bathroom, Titus’s driver was standing in the middle of my room with a notebook in hand.
Turns out, he is Titus’s sovietnik. His name is Ignat, but mentally, I’ve been calling him Iggy or some other ridiculous moniker, something I know would piss a guy like him off.
He’s got a face like a marble statue and stark blue eyes that seem to stare right through you.
He has a conservative haircut and a light, but well-maintained beard along his jaw… and he is entirely humorless.
He took my clothing sizes and then left without a word. Within the next few hours, I was furnished with more clothes than I think I could ever know what to do with. My walk-in closet is practically overflowing and so are my dressers.
And now, it’s the dead of night and I’m sitting in pajamas letting the television watch me. I did sleep. I slept all morning and afternoon. And now I’m awake and plagued with my own thoughts.
Adam’s in the wind. Hopefully, he’s left town. After failing so miserably at this assassination attempt, I need that win. I need to know that he’s somewhere Titus can’t touch him.
A soft, mewling noise gets my attention. I pause the television show and listen. Does Titus have a cat…?
Oh. Oh, that’s not a cat. That’s a kid. I stand up and walk across the room, putting my ear to the door and listening.
It’s definitely a little kid crying. Whoever he is, he sounds nearby. Maybe in one of the other rooms we passed on the way up here. I glance around my room, looking for something to pick the lock with. Maybe this kid is in trouble. Maybe Titus has kidnapped some little boy for ransom or something.
Either way, I need to get to him. I don’t find anything in my immediate area, so I look through my closet. On the shelf, discarded in a small pile of disregarded items, are two medium-sized safety pins.
Crude, but it’ll work. I rush to the door with one of the safety pins and kneel down to get to work on the lock. The last time I did this, I was around thirteen or so. Papa was angry with me for sneaking out, so he locked my phone in his desk. I got it out while he was away on business.
Fortunately, it doesn’t take me long to get the lock to turn and I’m out in the hallway. The sound of the child’s crying echoes along this hallway, but it’s muffled and soft. I think it’s coming from the hallway across from me, so I softly pad across the cool marble floors toward it.
This hallway leads down into another short one off to the side with a single door. Just like mine. I guess these isolated hallways are where he keeps his ‘guests’. I walk up to the door and listen. The little voice is sniffling between sobs. Poor thing.
“Hello?” I whisper.
The sniffling stops suddenly. Then a soft, “H-Hello?”
“Hi,” I say. “I, uh, heard you crying. Are you okay?”
Sniffles. “Yes. I just had a bad dream, that’s all.”
Oh, boy. Poor thing probably misses his parents. I look down at the doorknob and note the lock on the outside. No key, just a little turn lock. “Would you mind if I came in there and kept you company?”
A pause, then, “I don’t know you.”
“I know. I promise I’m not mean. I just heard you crying and—”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Sofia. I’m a…” I have to stop myself from saying ‘prisoner’. “I’m a friend of your father’s. What’s your name?”
“Luka,” he says. “Promise you’re not mean?”
“I swear. May I come in?”
He pauses for a few seconds, then, “Okay.”
I open the door. In the darkness, I can see that it’s a room with the same level of comfort as mine. Walls with posters of superheroes on them, a little corner with a television and a pile of video games, a toy chest on the other side of the room next to a writing desk.
Hell, it looks better than my room, actually. The little boy is sitting up in his bed, his face shining in the moonlight. He’s an adorable child. Round, apple cheeks, curly blond hair, and blue eyes. He wipes at his face and sits up a little, managing a smile.
“Wow,” he says. “You’re pretty.”
I blush a little. “Thank you. Mind if I sit down with you?”
He shakes his head, so I sit down on his bed.
“So, how long have you been here?”
He shrugs and I get a touch of worry in my stomach.
“Probably kind of scary, all this, huh?”
He opens his mouth to speak, then doesn’t, frowning a little. Finally, he says, “It was just a bad dream. I get them sometimes.”
“Yeah… yeah, me too.” I’m already thinking of a billion ways I can break this kid out of here, but then, what next? I’ve never taken care of a kid before and running from Bratva is hard enough without having a little tagalong with me.
“You know what I do when I have bad dreams?” I say to him. “I tell myself a story to make myself feel better.”
“A story?” He raises his eyebrow skeptically. “You just talk to yourself?”
“No.” I chuckle. “I… well, I just imagine something better than what I dreamt. Something I like. It helps.” I look up at this posters and spot one I recognize. Four superheroes all dressed in different colored costumes and leaping out of a ball of fire.
“You like the Fire Starters, huh?”
He nods and smiles. “They’re really cool.”
“Yeah, they are.” I chuckle. “So, what’s one of your favorite episodes?”
He thinks for a moment, then, “The one where Solo saves Princess Herald in the Sycamore forest.”
“That is a great episode. Can you imagine yourself as Solo? Running through the forest, carrying the princess in your arms?”
He smiles and nods.
“Okay, so imagine that instead of your bad dream. When you fall asleep, you’ll have forgotten all about it. You might even have a dream where you’re one of the Fire Starters.”
He says, “Okay.” He pauses, his big eyes getting just a little rounder. “Can I tell you about my dream?”
A little nervousness grabs me. If Titus catches me in here…
Well, fuck it. This kid needs a friend. “Sure.” I lean onto his bed. “Tell me all about it, kid.”