Every Raindrop

Page 3

He mumbled something under his breath in Russian, using the word "devushka" again, but plural this time. I couldn't help, but wonder what it meant. I didn't figure asking would be a wise idea though. I curbed my curiosity by watching him move. He didn't waddle like a penguin, as so many men of his size do. He was far from fat of course, but with muscle mass like that you have to wonder...

"Stop staring you worthless piece of..."I didn't understand the rest of what he said as he kicked the bars of my cell, but considering his tone I was glad of that. I only flinched a bit, which appeared to make things worse. He wrenched the bars of my cell back and I stared, mouth agape at him.

"You mean to tell me those were unlocked this whole time?" I inquired in disbelief. What kind of place was this where they don't even properly lock up their prisoners?

Instead of answering my question he pulled me to my feet by my hair and shoved his face in mine, our noses nearly touching. He smelled of aftershave and expensive cologne. Though I was in a threatening place I couldn't help to be mesmerized as I caught the toxic scent. Why did cologne always have that affect on me?

"You will not ask questions you filthy sewer rat, do you understand?" He growled venomously.

"I'm sorry, but-I was just wondering-what..." Before I could get the rest of my sentence out he slammed me into the wall and jammed a pill own my throat. Once the pill had been swallowed and he let go I started feeling drowsy and my vision blurred. "I...I would have s-swallowed it p-peacefully." The last word wisped from my lips before I crumpled to the ground at his feet. I felt him step off the mattress before I slipped back into unconsciousness.

I awoke several hours later strapped to a chair with bright lights blinding me.

"Ah, she's waking up." A cheerful voice said as my eyes struggled to open. The man was leaning forward to get a closer look at me, clutching a clip board to his chest. His hair was white, eyes blue, and he wore a pleasant smile. He kind of reminded me of a turtle. From his accent I could tell he was English. He's like an old, English turtle.

"Where am I?" I mumbled and flexed my fingers, looking down at where my arms were restrained.

"No need to worry dear, we just need to ask a few questions." We? I looked to his right and saw the man from before standing there, strong arms folded over his muscular chest with his eyes fixed sternly upon me. Would he always look this threatening? If I were on a better end of this deal I would find him more attractive.

"This one has a staring problem." He noted without breaking his stare.

"Yes, well, don't they all?" The old English turtle said, showing it was nothing new, but the large man shook his head.

"Net, this one stares at your soul through your eyes." Well, that statement has taught me something. "Net" means "no" in Russian. It must. Otherwise that sentence wouldn't make any sense.

The old English turtle nodded and scribbled something down. "Well," He began and took a deep breath. "Wake her up a bit, will you Vladimir?" So his name is Vladimir then? A bit uncreative for a Russian, but fitting nonetheless. Hm, I rather like that word. Nonetheless.