Irina Inessa Smirnov is twenty years of age. She wanted nothing more than to be independent and loved after years of being without her parents.
Giovanni Luca Gonzalez is a ruthless, cold, dangerous and feared, twenty-three year old who doesn't do l...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My eyes slowly opened and I winced in pain as my head was pounding. Not only did I wince because of my headache but the bright light that lit the room.
Flashbacks from the night at the club recurred in my mind.
Where am I?
Everything dawned on me one after another. My hands were tied above my head. I finally opened my eyes to be in what seems to be a dungeon. It smelled awful here. The floors were flooded with water and there were dead bodies stacked in a corner on top of each other.
It hurt me seeing others suffering, about to die. I was cold. The clothes I wore last night were not on my body. I'm tied up with my lingerie. I couldn't help but cry.
I needed Giovanni. Will they kill me? Did anyone touch me? I'm not ready to die. The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard on the steps and I closed my eyes pretending to still be asleep.
"Он придет за ней" One of them said in a low husky voice.
(He will come for her)
He spoke Russian. Why am I wanted and who is 'he'? I wondered.
At this point I'm thankful that I was taught Russian. It was a must that Piero and I learned it. I'm not too sure why.
"Она хорошая девочка."
(She is a good girl.)
The other added and I can clearly hear him walking towards me. He stopped directly in front of me and tucked my loose hair behind my ear. My body shivered on feeling his rough and cold fingers.
I was disgusted.
How dare this stranger lay awful hands on me.
"Don't fucking touch me. You son of a bitch!" I screamed and kicked him in the groin. He fell to the ground in pain but this man didn't take long to get up.
He reached in his pocket and swiped the object across my thigh and I shrieked.
What the fuck is wrong with these people?
"Get these fucking ropes off me, you pig!" I hissed and spat in his eye. This infuriated him, I could see it in his eyes, his fingers curling to a fist turning his knuckles white and his jaw clenched.
He swung a punch at me aiming at my eye, the same eye that I spat in. He continued the abuse to my stomach and face. The other men stood there watching and sipping alcohol from their glasses. They looked scary. One had a scar across his right eye, going down to his left cheek. They all wore black outfits and had beards. They reeked of alcohol.
By the time he was done, my body was weak, covered in blood. I could barely see from my right eye. I was hurting, I could no longer cry. Everything hurts. I'm going to kill this son of a bitch. I slowly drifted away as they walked to leave.
