She is the Queen

Chapter 26

He left me after our deadly scary conversation. I was trying to sort things out in my mind. How could Andrea do this? What about his brother? I felt bad about it. Was he an innocent soul? Then again, what am I gonna do in this situation.

There is no camera in the room and I will use the sound proof walls to my advantage. I jump back to the floor breaking the wooden chair and freeing my hands. I then untie my ankles. They are still sour from the tight capture of the ropes and you could see the red marks on them.

As I pondered over my next move, Petrov returned. His countenance was inscrutable, concealing fury, and driving an icy stake of fear into my heart. His cold touch and rough demeanor were paradoxically comforting in the labyrinth of unfamiliar faces. The grandeur of the mansion intimidated me, forcing me to seek solace in his presence. Petrov, while a terrifying captor, was a known entity in this world of unpredictability.

My introduction to my luxurious suite was abrupt. He pushed me towards a plush bed and disappeared momentarily, only to return with an antiseptic cream. His actions belied his earlier threats. Was this a Russian mobster's version of kindness? His deft fingers, earlier brutal and ruthless, now seemed oddly gentle as they worked the cream over my bruised wrists. This act of unparalleled compassion left me questioning his true nature.

"I am sorry for your loss." I whispered.

In this perplexing scenario, I inevitably found myself empathizing with Petrov. I was an only child, yet the thought of losing a sibling was devastating. How horrific must it have been for him to lose a part of himself, his flesh, and blood? At times, life forces us into corners that compel us to share pain with unlikely counterparts. And Aleksandr Petrov, my captor, had become my unlikely counterpart. Even as he continued dressing my wounds with a detached expression, I yearned to reflect his pain back to him, praying he would let down his guard and reveal a glimpse of his vulnerable soul. 

After receiving silence as an answer, as he crouched down holding my left ankle to apply some cream there, I attempted to pull away my foot and said, "It's fine. I can do it." .

He looked up to me and said "Shut up." .

After finished up, he towered over me and ordered me to follow him.

As commanded, I rose from the luxurious bed, following him through the labyrinthine mansion. Steered into a dim interrogation-like room, the stark bareness chilled me. Barren except for two chairs, a steel table, a solitary lamp, and a surveillance camera ominously mounted in the corner, the chilling setup sent shivers down my spine. As he cuffed me to the seat, the icy touch of the metal spurred a searing pain through my wounded wrist.

Yet, it was less brutal than the ropes. Across me, Petrov assumed a menacing stance. His piercing gaze unflinching, as we embarked on the next daunting chapter of this ghastly ordeal.

"Laila Pierro. The offspring of Frank Elves Pierro and the progeny of Alberto Dilucia. Your mother, a former notable figure at the Pinale Company, which explains your situation. So, you are not just Andrea's business associate but also his paramour? I've heard that your torrid romance blossomed from a kidnapping, is that correct?"I met his intense gaze, answering tersely, "Yes.""And you've only just turned seventeen, correct?""Indeed.""I've also heard a tale of your departure from Andrea's hold. Is that true?""Yes.""Do you have any perception of the consequences of attempting escape from my custody?""I can form some assumptions.""And what do you predict, little lady?""Undoubtedly, not the most pleasant ordeal.""Correct. Hence, it would be wise not to attempt it.""Understood.""Without further ado, enlighten me about Andrea."A mask of confusion overtook my features; a furrow etched itself deeply on my brow. His demands caught me off guard.His icy stare bore into me with relentless expectation. He was waiting for me to falter, to fail. But I was not about to divulge anything about Andrea."You should be aware that lack of response on your part will force me to resort to undesirable measures." Rising abruptly, a chilling gleam of a blade emerged."Who are his suppliers?"I remained tight-lipped."Where is his sanctuary - the safe house?"No response."Does he have any family close by?"Makeup of silence.I could sense Aleksandr's tension heightening. His composure faltered, veins bulging ominously on his forehead.Finally, I decided to break the deafening silence. 

"Aleksandr, this marks the eleventh time I've been held captive. You can't begin to comprehend the atrocities I've been subjected to, for not all my tormentors were gracious. Regardless of the torment you inflict, I shall remain silent." I declared, standing ground against the terrifying prospect of the imminent torture that lurked in the newly revealed ominous gleam.

Indeed, my disturbing familiarity with being abducted had conditioned me into accepting my unfortunate predicament with unnerving calm. It all began when I was merely six; numerous abductors had since targeted me. Except for one unutterable atrocity, all imaginable forms of abuse had been inflicted upon me, yet, I've survived time and again. While I despise reliving this horrific cycle, I also comprehend the necessity of enduring it, at least temporarily.

Suddenly, at Aleksandr's command, an intimidating figure loomed into the room. A formidable man in his late twenties, he mumbled a phrase in Russian. It was clear from the menacing stride with which he approached me that he had been instructed to inflict harm. I steeled myself, envisioning the forthcoming assault.

With an air of cruel nonchalance, he let his fist fly. It found its mark - my cheek. The force of the impact reverberated through my body, and I knew instantly that this part of my face would soon be painted in violent hues of a painful bruise. I closed my eyes, bracing for the blows I knew were yet to come. With each painful collision, I clung onto a single grain of hope - survival, always survival.

"I'm reluctant to proceed this way, little rabbit, yet your silence necessitates it." he intoned menacingly.

I remained resolute, my silence stubborn.

Without any further warning, the man swiftly embedded the blade into my thigh. The pain that bullet through me was excruciating, yet I merely let out a suppressed whimper, biting back any exaggerated reaction. Struggling to combat the shrieking pain inside, I gritted my teeth and fell back against the chair, eyes screwed shut.

Upon reopening them, I noticed Aleksandr's absence. His departure, I assumed, was to observe me from behind the one-way glass, his last shred of human guilt distanced from the grisly spectacle.

Resuming the torment, the figure clawed the knife from my thigh before delivering a brutal slap across my face. Thus began a grueling episode of pain and endurance.

Time morphed into an unrecognizable entity as wave upon wave of agony washed over me. After what seemed like an eternity, the heightened sensitivity to pain dulled, the numbness enveloping my battered body was a merciful reprieve. The tormentor continued his cruel dance, unleashing a flurry of punches, kicks, and knife-induced scarring, even breaking my left hand amidst his ruthless spree. My consciousness receded, swallowed by a protective void as my mind sought refuge from the horrific reality.

Even the brute himself was slick with perspiration, his energy evidently sapping from the ceaseless, violent exertion. On the verge of losing consciousness, I allowed my head to droop back, willingly surrendering to the beckoning darkness. The prospect of an end, even a temporary one, was soothingly seductive.