INNA
Another burned rose.
For the third time, I find this haunting rose left at my doorstep. I am a woman adrift, a nomad in search of fleeting shelter, changing my living quarters every week without fail. Each new week brings a new brothel room, a new bed in a boarding house, or a solitary bedroom in an unfamiliar apartment.
But no matter where I go, this twisted gift follows me. A rose, once vibrant and red, is now reduced to ashes—Just who's this insane who buys roses and burns them? Who is it that shadows my every move, leaving behind these charred offerings? What twisted mind finds joy in this macabre game of cat and mouse?
But I refuse to be cowed by fear. I will find out who is behind this sinister game, and I will make them regret ever crossing paths with me. But now it was time to collect money and bets.
Here I am, in a new gambling den in Moscow. This one is called The Silver Spade. I kept changing gambling dens here and then; it was my favorite thing to do after painting graffiti. Collecting money. I took a drag of the cigarette smell that filled my noise, I knew that my presence here is unmistakable, dressed in a black hoodie that concealed my features, and a hat pulled low to shield my identity from prying eyes. As the men exchange banter and clink their glasses, their words carry an undercurrent of skepticism and prejudice. One of them, a man in his thirties, eyes me with a mocking smirk on his face.
"Well, well, what do we have here? A lady thinks she can play with the big boys?"
more like stupid boys with small dicks.
The other men join in, their laughter echoing through the underground chamber. I remain unfazed, my gaze fixed on the deck of cards in my hands.
I hate their fucking arrogance.
"Seems like some people can't handle a little competition. Don't worry, boys, I won't go easy on you just because I'm a woman," I voice out, the icy tune used in my words. I just want some money to buy my paints for the day and find something to eat. My government name was Inna Xarya, the only thing that I know about myself. I don't even have any legal paper on me that confirms my identity, because everything was burned, I burned everything when I was little, I burned the whole Serenity House along with all the papers- and maybe people. Children were hurt that night because of me, I was hurt too. Sometimes I thank god that I don't have any paper on me, glad that the government doesn't have any information about me. Doesn't know about my existence. It was not just me, there were many children out there like me, who suffered and still suffering.
"What do you say? you in?" My words, laced with confidence, strike a nerve, silencing the taunting laughter. But amidst the jeers and jibes, another man at the table, Van, watches me intently, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and admiration. I promised myself that I wouldn't pick a fight today. Well, I don't pick fights; the fight picks me.
"You know, sweetheart, you don't have to prove anything to these fools. Why don't you leave this place and join me? I can show you a different kind of game." Van leans in near my ear, his breath fanning my nose with his drunk smell.
I want to cut his tongue so bad. My fingers wanted to grab the knife hidden from me.
My gaze flickers momentarily, acknowledging his advances, but I remain steadfast, focused on the game at hand.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm not here for distractions. I'm here to win."
Undeterred, Van persists, leaning closer and attempting to touch my arm. I swiftly pull away, my eyes narrowing with a warning.
