12. Lucia
12
LUCIA
A rseni’s place is worlds apart from Tall’s.
Actually, I don’t believe this is Arseni’s place at all. Cuffed to a radiator, I roam my eyes around the dingy motel room, landing on his clothes strewn about, food wrappers crumpled on the nightstand and overflowing onto the floor. I don’t think he lives here, but if his behavior is reflective of how he treats his own space, I can only imagine what a disaster it is.
I try to remember if I saw a dirty dish in Tall’s sink. An article of clothing on the ground. A ring on the coffee table left behind after a careless refusal to use a coaster.
I don’t remember seeing anything out of place, any disorder. But then again, I’m only distracting myself.
Mario’s image flashes in my mind for the thousandth time, and I clench my eyes shut and try to suppress it, try to focus on the task at hand. Crying will not get me closer to him. Worrying will do me no good.
He isn’t dead. Tall’s brother confirmed it. The quicker I can get to him, the more likely chance of that remaining the case. And that all starts with Arseni.
I don’t know if I could ever appeal to his empathy enough for him to let me go, but I’ve decided I don’t have the time. Instead, I need to escape . Find the motel Leo talked about, find Mario, and beg Papá to forgive me, and more importantly, to forgive Mario.
I’ll never leave the estate again. I’ll marry whoever Papá wants, and I will live with that man in Papá’s chosen house for us, still within his compound. He’ll have full control over my life as long as he spares Mario’s.
I lay my head down against the radiator and listen to the shower run, trying not to think about how bitterly ironic it is that I want so badly to escape this motel room so that I can run back to my other prison.
But it’s worth it. It’s worth it. If Mario was willing to sacrifice his life for mine, then I must be willing to do the same.
When the shower shuts off, I lift my head toward the open bathroom door. I ignore the bottom half of Arseni—wrapped in a towel—when he steps out of the shower, but he's even more handsome than I imagined he would be bare-chested. Muscular like Tall, but more tanned. Scars dot his torso that beg for understanding, like they apologize on his behalf. Tall is without a doubt a sociopathic monster. Arseni is awful, but is he irredeemable? Could it be that he suffers from a hard past and was given the misfortune of being manipulated and groomed by a man as sadistic as Tall?
I don’t know. But I hope so. I hope he has humanity.
I shift onto my knees while whimpering past the cloth tied around my mouth as he enters the room. The handcuffs securing my wrists ping against the radiator as I tug in a silent plea to release me.
Arseni smirks to acknowledge me but veers to his discarded pants to pull out a pack of cigarettes along with a lighter.
Letting his towel fall from his hips, he lights a cigarette and stares at me, his head tilting. I stare back, as difficult as it is.
He sits down on the bed before lounging back, flicking ashes onto the carpet like a barbarian. When I furrow my brow at him, he laughs.
“Did you enjoy your time with Luka?” he asks.
Without pause, I shake my head.
Arseni smiles. “Would you have rather been with me?”
I’m not as quick to answer. The question feels cruel. Because of course I don’t want to be here, but still, I slowly nod.
I expect Arseni’s smile to widen, but instead, it flattens. He takes a drag of his cigarette then blows the smoke in my direction.
“I don’t think he likes you either,” he says. “He tells me I can keep you now. He doesn’t want another turn.”
My stomach sinks at his words, though I’m not sure why. I don’t plan on sticking around long enough for that to matter.
“Do you know what that means?” Arseni asks.
I blink but just wait for him to go on. If he wants me to answer his questions from now on, he’ll have to take the gag off.
“It means you should be nice to me. You should try very, very hard to do everything I tell you to do.”
Be nice to him.
Nausea rises at his words, and I turn my head on impulse. Be nice to him.
It isn’t enough to just do what he says. To accept that he will take things against my will. I must be nice to him while he’s doing it.
What does that even mean?
Tall comes into my mind, demanding I kiss him. Demanding I take off my clothes for him.
I refused. And he conceded.
Are those the kinds of things Arseni will want? And if I don’t give them, he’ll just be done with me too? Time to go to the lake so Tall can dismember me?
“Uh oh,” Arseni teases. “Somebody’s got an attitude.”
My lips squeezing the gag, I turn back to him to stare.
He waits several seconds before he speaks again, as if daring me to look away.
“Do you want me to uncuff you?”
Raising higher onto my knees, I nod emphatically.
“Do you promise to be nice?”
There’s that word again. Nice . It trips me up for a second, but only for a second. I nod, my ultimate goal of escape in mind.
Arseni gets up, his cigarette dangling from his mouth, and plucks the key from the nightstand before strutting over to me. Ashes rain down on my freshly washed dress as he crouches, but I say nothing of it while he undoes the cuffs.
Another difference between Arseni and Tall. I didn’t think of it as much of a kindness at the time, but I’m realizing at this moment that Tall didn’t need to wash my dress. By the filth of the room, I seriously doubt Arseni would have cared about my state the way Tall did. It’s evidenced by the fact that he didn’t have me take a shower with him as Tall had.
He chose to wash my clothes. Hell, to give me back my clothes. Why? Impulse?
Arseni takes my wrist once I’m uncuffed and hauls me to my feet before stubbing his cigarette out on the radiator. He leads me to the bed somewhat roughly where he urges me to climb onto the mattress. As soon as my knees dig into the firm springs of the old bed, Arseni splays his palm over my lower back and presses me flat, a gasp entering me as my face connects with a musty comforter.
I stare wide-eyed at his reflection in the box TV as he straddles my legs, his hand firmly pressed to the center of my back.
After lifting my dress over my rear, he palms the bare flesh, making me blush.
“Spread your legs,” he commands.
I bring my arms up to pull the gag from my mouth, my jaw flexing once I’m free. Ignoring Arseni’s command, I rest my forehead against my arms. The urge to escape is so strong, I almost do what he says, but I can’t see how it will help my chances. It’ll only do exactly what I explained to Tall, which is compromise my character.
Take from me if you must, but do not ask me to give.
Another difference between Arseni and Tall: Arseni does not take no for an answer.
His palm connects with my rear, hard, so much harder than it had when he caught me in the woods.
“Spread your legs,” he repeats in the exact same tone, no hint of increased anger.
When I don’t comply immediately, he hits me twice, making me cry out at the sting.
“Stop,” I say, trying to shift from beneath him. I swallow and try to summon the speech I gave Tall, the one that seemed to work. The one he could understand.
But Arseni hits me three times, and when I protest again, he hits me four. His punishment starts to occur to me. Every time I refuse, it gets more severe.
“T-take,” I say, beginning my speech, but Arseni doesn’t bother letting me finish. He starts with my punishment of five swats, the stings seemingly even more forceful than before. I try to block his hand, but he easily collects my wrists and holds them away.
I lay my forehead against the comforter as a sob rumbles my chest, the ache of his blows felt all the way in my throbbing ears.
“Spread your legs,” he says again. Same even tone. No anger. No remorse. Not an ounce of sympathy.
He doesn’t care.
He truly, truly does not care.
Not about my character. Not about my voice. And certainly not about me.
A dreadful realization comes over me, chilling my blood even while Arseni reddens my skin with another round of blows for my noncompliance.
I was wrong.
He was never my only hope. He was never any hope.
I was doomed from the start. I was…
I see Tall in my mind, see the look of shame and sympathy that overtook him when he saw the bruises around my neck, bruises I blamed him for. Bruises he felt responsible for.
Oh my God.
I chose to focus on the wrong man.
When Arseni repeats his command, this time I comply, sobs pushing drool onto the comforter as I feel my pride slip through my hands.
Nineteen years of character I worked to build, gone with a little bit of pain.
Arseni gives me no time to lay with my shame. He pushes two fingers inside of me, making me squeal while he lowers himself to talk closer to my ear.
“This is what I want,” he says, pumping his fingers until I wince in pain. He lets go of my wrists so he can use his other hand to force a finger into my puckered hole, shocking me so badly that I still, my eyes wide with horror. “But this, mi amor , is where I will fuck you if you’re bad. Comprehende?”
I nod fervently but don’t otherwise budge. My whole body is tense, squeezing both of his fingers.
He chuckles as he removes himself and gives my bottom a light pat. He massages me there for a moment, like he wants me to relax but doesn’t say so. His attempt is hopeless. I could never relax for him.
Another difference. I’m beginning to believe I’ll never run out of ways to compare the two men.
Tall could turn my body against me. He could make me desire things that I didn’t understand, make me loosen to his touch, moan at his silent demands.
Arseni? If Arseni is capable of tricking my body, I’ll never know. I don’t think he’s interested in whatever Tall was interested in.
I’m glad it was him first.
I close my eyes to this strange fact. Too many impossible things happen in my mind while Arseni’s hot, intrusive length invades me.
I wish I hadn’t angered Tall. I wish I’d used his jealousy against him, talked him into keeping me for himself instead of giving me to Arseni. Or just killing me mercifully so I wouldn’t have to endure either man.
No .
I am not a quitter. I am a fighter. A survivor .
And right now, the way to survive is to escape. How can I do that?
I glance at the nightstand, the obvious choice to search for a weapon. Arseni’s lighter is there, but I’m not certain what I would do with it. There’s a lamp. Trash. An alarm clock.
Useless. All useless .
Arseni thrusts hard, and I gasp and cringe, digging my forehead into the bed. He pauses when I squeeze my thighs together without realizing I’m doing it.
“Spread,” he says, slapping my rear.
“ No .”
“No?” Anger filters into his tone and saturates the air. It’s infused into his palm when he grabs my shoulder and flips me over, his hand circling my already bruised neck as I stare up at his hardened face.
“Is this why my friend did this to you?” he asks, pressing his thumb into a bruise on my neck. I close my eyes against the pain. “Because you were a little bitch to him?”
I would think he was mocking me if the defense in his voice wasn’t so obvious. Like I’ve actually done something to him. Or, more likely, to Tall.
Fear crawls up my spine, and I can’t even bring myself to glare.
“Do you know how hard it is to rattle Luka?” he asks, lowering his face to mine. I try to pull myself into the mattress as if I’m distancing myself from a snake.
“Luka didn’t do it,” I whisper, like I’m afraid Arseni will strike as soon as my mouth opens.
Arseni scoffs like he doesn’t believe me and pulls the gag back up to rest in my mouth. His red face and clenched jaw still me.
“I don’t know what you said or what you did… But you will not have the opportunity to do the same to me. And I do not take kindly to girls who bother my friends.” The heat in Arseni’s voice is a stark contrast to the coldness of Tall’s. Tall shows very little of what he feels. Arseni shows everything.
He’s offended. Not for himself, but for his friend.
What the hell is this about?
Arseni must be finished talking because he yanks my dress up past my stomach and forces my legs apart. He takes himself in his hands, and when his eyes lower between us, he pauses.
I know what he’s looking at. First, there’s a curiosity that takes shape, as it had with Tall, but as the oxygen leaves the room, I know I’m not so lucky this time. Tall didn’t recognize my family’s emblem.
But Arseni does.
He scrambles down my body so his face is at the scar, as if his eyeballs touching it is the only way to confirm it’s what he suspects.
He gasps as he shoots up, his eyes wide with fear as he looks at me like I am the monster now. “What the?—”
I don’t let him finish the thought. He’s naked, straddling my legs, and full of shock. I’ve never seen a better opportunity for anything in my life.
I pull my knee up and shove my heel into his crotch as hard as I possibly can. He wheezes in a breath, his eyes still wide with disbelief, but he’s too slow to cover his junk before I land a punch there next, putting so much force into it that I roar.
Arseni falls over onto the bed, cupping himself in agony while I jump up and sprint for his pants that he left his car keys in. I don’t even stop to pull the keys out or to take the gag out of my mouth. I scoop up the pants and go for the door, prepared for the lone chain I have to unhook before I find freedom. The closest thing to freedom I’ll ever have.
Arseni is at my back, hunched over and stumbling out the door comically naked and pained, but I’m too prepared for him. I slip into his car with ease and lock the door before he can start yanking on the handle.
I yelp when he punches the glass, but the engine starts with a turn of the key, and I put the car in reverse. A third punch shatters the window, throwing glass pieces all over me, but Arseni’s hand only grazes me before the car lurches backward all the way out of the parking lot onto the lonely, dark road. I’m peeling away before Arseni can reach me.
And thanks to Leo, I know where to go. All that’s left to do is figure out how to get there.