Chapter 12 Tatiana
TATIANA
Something hard pokes into my ribs and I shift on the couch trying to find a more comfortable position as I find sleep lifting and my body slowly waking up.
My eyes open slowly and I stare at unfamiliar ceiling tiles with water stains spreading across them.
For a moment, I can't remember where I am or why I'm sleeping on a couch that smells like mildew and cigarette smoke.
But slowly, I remember why I'm here, shivering in the too-cold warehouse with no blanket or easily accessible toilet.
But at least it's quiet and dark enough to sleep, if you can call it sleep.
I tossed all night with bad dreams and a horrible kink in my neck, and now all I can think about is emptying my bladder and getting a cup of coffee somewhere.
I sit up and my apron falls off my shoulders.
I used it as a blanket during the night when I realized there was nothing else to cover up with.
My back aches from sleeping on cushions that have lost most of their padding, and I roll my shoulders to relieve some of the kinks in my neck.
I don’t know how long I can do this, but at least I know security doesn't watch the warehouse door closely enough to come chase me out.
Way better than a stupid shelter across town.
Pressing my hands to my face, I yawn and think of Lena in that ambulance.
They probably took her to the hospital for more tests, and who knows what she'll do when she gets out.
I know she has family close to stay with, unlike me.
It'll be easier for her, though that doesn’t make me feel any less guilty for getting her messed up in this.
I can't help but wonder if I'd have kept my mouth shut, would anyone even have known what I saw?
Standing, I fold my apron over my arm while looking around the storage room one more time.
Maybe there's a different, more comfortable couch I can sleep on tonight if I have to do this over again.
I just don't know where else to go. I won't stay at a shelter and I can't really afford a hotel.
With no other close friends or relatives, this place is all I have.
Even still, I'm risking losing my job if I mooch off the casino for too long, so I know it's not an option for long-term housing.
The door creaks when I push it open and I freeze, listening for any sound of footsteps or voices.
But the hallway outside is empty and silent except for the hum of the central air that makes this place feel like an ice locker.
I close the door behind me and walk toward the stairs that lead up to the employee areas.
My legs feel shaky and weak from hunger and exhaustion. I can't remember the last time I ate anything substantial. Maybe yesterday morning before my shift started and I got wasted. Everything since then has been a blur of fear and vodka and Dimitri's hands on my body.
I can't get that out of my head. Why can't I get that out of my fucking head?
I swear I dreamed about it too, except in my dream, we weren't interrupted by that man and Dimitri did unholy things to my body that made me wake up in a cold sweat.
Fuck, it messes with my head even now as I head with my duffel bag into the locker room.
"You're early," I hear from the back of the room and see Linda standing in her black slacks and just a bra as she tugs on her blouse to prepare for her shift. Scowling, I avoid eye contact and look away, as is appropriate in these circumstances.
"Yeah… Couldn't sleep last night. No point in staying home when there's work to be done." And after being late three days in a row as a modicum of protest against Dimitri's micromanagement, I probably owe this place the honor of showing up on time for once.
"Feeling better?" Linda asks. After that incident when she sent me home, I've barely seen her. I've been working for Dimitri and my communication to Linda is barely memorable. I didn't know she cared.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I mumble as I reach my locker and turn toward it. She seems to get the point that I'm not interested in conversing at all and she shuts her locker and walks out as I raise my hand to lift the latch on my locker door.
But when the door squeaks open, it isn't my empty metal box I see. My eyes register an image before I even realize there's something lying on the locker's bottom. It's a picture of the crime scene with the body of that man lying in his own blood.
An odd sound bubbles up out of my throat that sounds like I'm trying to swallow a screaming animal and I cover my mouth, dropping my duffel bag.
"Oh, my God." Someone knows.
I look around the locker room, now empty since Linda waltzed out, and I wonder who it could be.
The break in at my apartment wasn't a coincidence at all, and Lena's in the hospital over that, but now this? Someone I work with knows what I saw and they're taunting me now?
My stomach rolls and I think I may throw up. This can't be happening. I didn't do anything wrong and now I'm being hunted by someone who's close enough to know which locker at work is mine, where I live, and they aren't afraid of hurting people close to me.
I gotta get out of here.
I pick up my duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder, then rush to the door.
It sticks a little as I try to open it and I have to tug three times to get it open, but then I'm in a mad rush to the employee exit.
I have my debit card and a bit of cash. My paycheck will go into the account tomorrow.
I think I have enough for bus fare out of town, but I don't dare to go my mother's house and make these assholes go after her too.
But I know I can't stay here in St Petersburg and let them whittle away at my sanity anymore. I'll find a place in Moscow, maybe, or down in Yekaterinburg, and hide. I can warn my mother and send her money for bus fare. I'll just find a different job. It's my only choice. I can't stay here.
I rush so fast, I bump into a few bus boys carrying tubs of dirty dishes before I stumble to the door in a huff and swing it open so hard, it slams against the exterior of the building.
I'm not more than three steps out the door when I slam into the very hard chest of Dimitri Gravitch, who wraps his arms around my waist to keep me from falling over, and I instantly know I’m fucked.
Someone I work with is going to hurt me, and my boss will never let me just run off without explaining why I'm doing it.