Chapter 40
I've been locked in this little room for days, and I've completely lost track of time.
The cold, hard floor is the only place to lie down, and the dirty blanket brings no comfort.
Sleeping has been difficult with the weight of my belly and the constant pain.
My body is exhausted, and the hunger only makes everything worse.
Most of the time, all I get to eat is dry crackers.
Sometimes, like it's some kind of favor, they bring a hot meal, but it's so rare I don't even let myself hope.
My sister... I've only seen her once since we arrived.
She's in a better room, with a doctor and proper care, and that gives me some relief, but it also hurts to think that we're separated.
I don't know why they treat me this way, why I'm the only one thrown in here, as if my pregnancy doesn't matter.
The woman who comes in to leave the food never says anything, just looks at me with pity, like she already knows there's no saving me.
My baby moves sometimes, and each movement reminds me that I need to be strong, but it's hard to hold onto hope when everything around me is pain and silence.
I've tried exploring every corner of this place, looking for a way out, but the windows are locked from the outside, and there's always a man guarding the door.
It's as if freedom is close enough to feel, but impossible to reach.
I think about Alex... Is he looking for me?
And Martha? Does anyone know where I am?
I'm so desperate that sometimes I imagine the impossible: someone breaking down that door and taking me away to somewhere safe.
But reality is too cruel, and with each passing day, I feel like I'm disappearing, along with my dream of bringing my son into this world in peace.
I had hoped that someone here could help me escape, but I have to admit that feeling has faded. At least I don't see Vladimir. Or rather, I didn't... until that moment.
I hear the door open. I stand up, my heart racing. It's not time for food, so... it can only be him.
“Enjoying your new home, brat?” Vladimir taunts with a cynical smile. “Enjoy it while you can, because in a few days you won't be here anymore.”
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my voice weak.
“You'll find out when the time comes.”
He turns to the man at his side, his expression shifting to something colder and more calculating, and says:
“I want her to give birth by the end of the week at the latest. Make it happen. I already have a family interested in the bastard.”
“All right, sir, it will be done,” he responds and leaves.
“What? No... you're not taking my son from me, you bastard!” I lose control and lunge at him, but before I can touch him, his hand slams across my face so hard it knocks me to the floor. The pain is immediate, burning my skin. I press my hand to my stinging cheek and try to control the trembling.
“You have no say here, whore. I'm the one who decides,” he says, his voice low and dripping with disdain. “And where you're going, you won't have time to take care of a child.”
“Where are you sending me? I won't go... I don't want to go... I want to stay with my son.” My voice comes out choked, fear screaming inside me alongside the pain.
He kneels in front of me and grabs my chin hard, forcing me to look at him. The grip is painful, and my whole body trembles.
“You're actually pretty hot and interesting.
Even pregnant, your body hasn't changed much,” he murmurs, his heavy gaze traveling over my body.
A cold shiver runs through me, and revulsion grows in my stomach.
His hand slides from my face to my neck, and my heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest.
“No... please... I'm... I'm pregnant, don't hurt me.” My voice barely comes out, choked by tears. I feel terror and disgust as I imagine what he might do to me. I'm defenseless, at the mercy of this animal.
He laughs loudly, as if I'd told some joke, and says:
“You crack me up, you little slut! You think I care if you're pregnant or not?
! That's just a detail. They say pregnant women get hornier.
We can test that, can't we?” He gives me a disgusting smile, looks at me with malice, and despair washes over me.
I can't believe I'm in the hands of this monster...
As if my pleas mean nothing, he continues:
“Fuller breasts... Delicious, from the look of them.
You know, you turn me on even more now that you're pregnant. You always aroused me, but now...” He moves closer and brings his face near mine, his gaze invasive and cruel.
When his disgusting hand gropes my body, fear transforms into deep anguish.
One of his hands squeezes my neck hard, almost choking me.
I try to break free, but it's useless. I never thought I'd live through this nightmare again.
And the worst part is that here, there's no one to save me.
Tears flow uncontrollably, and I can barely breathe.
With his free hand, he keeps groping me.
He squeezes one of my breasts hard, and pain overwhelms me.
They're larger and much more sensitive because of the pregnancy.
I close my eyes and pray silently. I don't know if I'll make it out of this.
He continues with his disgusting words, making my stomach churn:
“You know what's wonderful?! Now I can do whatever I want with you. No one's going to interfere like last time. You remember, don't you, you slut? Is that little pussy still as tight and sweet as before? You're going to be my whore, Chloe. Like you always should have been.”
My mind is chaos, panic spreading, freezing my movements. I want to scream, but the sound dies in my throat. I'm trapped, powerless, and fear swallows me like a suffocating wave. With my belly this big and heavy, it's even harder to break free from his grip.
Then he starts moving his hand down, sliding along the side of my body until he reaches my legs. I try to push his hand away, but he's much stronger than me. He releases my neck and pins my arms above my head.
“Stay still, bitch! I'm just going to check if you're still hot and tight like before.”
I struggle with revulsion, trying to close my legs, but he forces them open and positions himself between them.
Because I'm wearing a dress—what I've been wearing constantly since the pregnancy—it makes it easier for him to touch me, which is an even greater torture.
He pushes my panties aside and runs those filthy fingers over me.
I scream for help, cry in desperation, and try to free myself from his grip, but I can't move.
My body freezes in panic. And the memory of when he did the same thing years ago hits me full force.
My desperation only grows, so I start screaming and struggling harder:
“NOOO… Get off me, you disgusting old man!! You FILTHY PIG, don't touch me, I don't want this, let me go… HELP!!”
Unfortunately, no one appears—of course no one would. He pushes his finger inside me, then pulls it out and puts it in his mouth. He returns to my entrance and shoves it back in without any gentleness.
I need to break free—for my son, I have to be strong.
In the midst of my desperate struggle to get away from this vermin, I realize my legs are free.
That's when I get the idea to kick him, and I do.
Even with my large belly, my flexibility is the same.
I kick him in the mouth with all the strength I have, and he screams and falls backward, bleeding.
With tears still streaming down my face, I say:
“Stay away from me, you bastard. DON'T TOUCH ME, EVER AGAIN!!” I scream that last part, desperate.
He wipes the blood dripping from his mouth and says:
“You really think that's going to stop me, you bitch? You hurt me, you whore. So now you're going to have to deal with the consequences.”
“What are you going to do… what are you going to do?” I ask anxiously.
He ignores me and leaves the room, talking to the man standing outside.
I risk making a run for it too, but the door slams shut with force, crushing my fingers in the doorframe.
I sit back down on the floor and look at my hand, now badly injured.
I need to get out of here; otherwise, he's going to end up killing me.
The hatred I saw in his eyes made that clear.
I've never been a weak person. I've always fought for what I wanted, but now it seems I have no strength for anything. Desperation takes me over. I know how cruel he is, capable of anything. I hurt him, and now all I can do is wait to find out what he'll do to me.
Another day passed. I spent the night wide awake, my eyes fixed on the darkness around me.
The fear of someone coming in kept me from closing my eyes.
But no one appeared. Not that night, nor in the hours that followed.
Hunger was already beginning to erode my strength, leaving my body weak and my mind foggy.
I just needed a little water, anything to relieve the dryness clawing at my throat.
Beyond that, there was the constant worry about my son growing inside me.
The anguish of not knowing if I'd have the strength to take care of him suffocated me.
I needed to survive, not just for me, but for him.
“Mommy promises she'll save you and protect you, my love. We'll be strong like your grandmother was.” I think to myself, tears in my eyes, as I caress my enormous belly.
With effort, I started banging on the door behind me, my knuckles already sore from pounding. After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened with a harsh creak. The imposing figure of the big man appeared, arms crossed, wearing an irritated expression.
“What do you want?” he growled. “Stop making a scene. The boss should be arriving, so you better stay quiet.”
“I just want a glass of water, please…” My voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper.
Without responding, he slammed the door again, leaving me there, motionless and frustrated.
A few minutes passed, maybe more. I lost track of time until I heard the key turning in the lock again.
This time, it was the young woman from before.
She entered hurriedly, balancing a glass of water and some crackers in her hands.
“Stay quiet,” she whispered, glancing quickly behind her, as if afraid of being caught.
Without hesitating, I took the provisions from her hands—hunger and thirst overriding caution. When I turned to thank her, she had already left, closing the door gently behind her.
There, alone again in that suffocating room, I swallowed the water eagerly and devoured the crackers, even though the taste was almost nonexistent. With each sip and bite, I felt a little more alive, but the darkness around me seemed to close in even more.
I ended up falling asleep sprawled there on the floor and woke up to someone grabbing my arms. I don't know how long I slept; after eating, I simply passed out.
It was still night, and darkness filled the room.
I had never seen the man grabbing me before.
He dragged me to a room where Vladimir was sitting in a chair, balancing a cigarette between his fingers.
It was the first time I'd seen him smoke.
“Put this bitch on the gurney,” he ordered.
Another man helped lay me down and strap me to that cold bed, as if I were crazy. And at that moment, that was exactly how I felt.
When they finished restraining my arms and legs, Vladimir stood up, tossed what was left of his cigarette on the floor, and approached me, leaning his face close to mine.
“Enjoy your last moments with your belly—soon you won’t have it anymore.”
Desperation overwhelmed me. The tears I’d tried to hold back finally streamed down my face, and a primal scream tore from my throat as I watched that bastard with a cruel smile on his lips.
I thrashed with everything I had, trying to break free, but only managed to hurt my wrists and legs.
Physical pain blended with the anguish in my soul until, exhausted, darkness swallowed me whole.
Before I succumbed to the void, one final thought flickered through my mind: that my son would forgive me, because I had no strength left to fight.