Zara

The forest blurs into a moving picture as I run through it at lightning speed. It's dawn, and the leaves are barely illuminated with warm glows of light. The crunching of dead leaves and my heavy erratic breathing are swallowed in the dense forest by a sinister sound.

I don't turn around, turning around only slows me down, and slowing down gets me killed.

I can hear the crunch of the leaves behind me, the snarl accompanying it, and the labored breathing. Ne oborachivaysya (Don't turn around), I remind myself.

Using the trees for support, I push my body and beg it to go faster, trying my best to not fall with the mud. So close, I could feel it. The fresh air of spring whips around me, my legs covered in dirt and lashes from the wet grass that sting but the pain is bearable. The pain keeps me going. Some parts were drier from the morning rain, while others were slippier- both helpful and my ruin.

My feet get stuck in a tree trunk and my body falls with a quick and painful yelp. I brace my hands in front of me, managing to break the fall but scrapping them with rocks and mud. Suddenly, unimaginable pain flares in me as my eyes blur at the experience as I let out an "Ahh," louder than my previous yelp of agony. One of the dogs managed to catch up to me, sinking his teeth into my calf. My hands scratch on the ground as tears burst like a well. I turn slightly to see two more dogs approaching swiftly and my breath catches.

Then, a whistle sounds and the dogs stop, crowding around me. Staring at me like I was their next meal. I was no bigger than them, my head barely popping over them.

"Daddy," I whimper, sniffing and cleaning the snot with my once-white cardigan now stained in mossy patches of green and brown. My pretty pink dress is now covered in dirt and tears, and the center rose is missing. I make out his blurry form as I pull on my sweater to place it on top of the bite mark.

His face is in a scowl as he regards me. It always seemed to be in a scowl and full of anger these days. I couldn't blame him, Mama had left him- us- and had not returned. She left a letter, but there has been no contact since then. I knew he was in a rotten mood, so I tried my best. I even almost made it to the house this time. I want to point this out but his contorted face in anger keeps me from it.

I can see it in his glacial stare, I had disappointed him... again. I sigh and try to get up, struggling, I cling to the tree. I huff out a breath of courage and try to apply some pleasure on the wounded leg, he would respect me more if I didn't show weakness going forward. Pretended the pain wasn't real. But it was. Red hot lava consumed me as soon as my heel tapped the hard ground, shooting signals of pain throughout my nervous system and I fell again.

"Patética" (Pathetic), he says with a scoff as he scoops down and swoops me in his arms. My daddy didn't speak russian, that was my mother, he spoke spanish. With them both, I learned three languages.

I clutch tightly to him, swallowing the lump in my throat. I knew what he meant when he called me pathetic. I was a disappointment to him. We had been training in what he deems as simple. How to outrun a faster opponent.

"Armanio," he calls and the doctor rushes forward, looking to be in his mid-30s.

"Yes Boss?"

My daddy nods his head toward me in his grasp. Armanio's light brown eyes land on me and he gives me a small sad smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. The eyes drift to the bite mark on my calf and become as wide as plates. He lets out a small prayer or curse, I can never be sure in what context he uses it, before rushing to my side.

My daddy sits with me still clutching onto him like a koala bear. He kisses the top of my head as the doctor begins applying ointment to the area and I let out a yelp, followed by more tears.

"If you can't outrun something and can't fight your way out-" his voice is gruff but with a velvet softness, "Do you know what the next logical solution is sweetheart?" Holding me in his arms seemed to have jolted him into remembering I was his little girl and my mother's porcelain doll. I snuggle closer to him, as he pulls out a handkerchief and begins wiping my tears away. I look up at him, waiting for the answer.

"You outsmart them," he tells me. "Entiendes?" (Understand) I nod, but he shakes me lightly and repeats, "Entiendes?"

"Da-" my voice lowers and I shake my head as his eyes blaze with the intensity of a furnace. Since my mother left, Russian was only allowed when necessary. So I always tried to keep them internal. I gulp, "I mean yes- Si," I correct my mistake.

"Good," he sighs, letting my little blunder go, and we sit in silence as the doctor wraps my leg up, gives me a small reassuring smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes either, just like anytime his eyes meet mine.

...

"Pathetic," I mumble at the fading memory, like the dusk seeping under to make way for the sunrise now lighting up the room. When I woke up, the window was left open that I couldn't help looking out of. Night clouds hid the illumination of the moonlight like a bad omen, the air was crisp and chill to the touch like death itself, yet none of that had my body convulsing as the acres of land filled with trees; a forest. Similar to the one at home, but I knew it couldn't be the same one. We didn't travel that far for me to assume I was back in Russia.

Since I was too weak to keep it out, the unwanted memory was able to infiltrate my thoughts. The drug they administered lasted long enough to get me here and tie my hands to the bed frame with ropes, but not long enough to keep me under. I pull at my restraints, wanting to find a way to see if the knife was still tucked in my shorts or if they had taken the liberty of disarming me. I wouldn't put it past them.

I move my head up and begin biting at the rope, pulling it but only come up coughing and filled with synthetic fibers. Yet, I don't stop, determined to do some damage. Determined to show them I'm not an easy prey.

"Careful or you'll ruin those pretty teeth of yours on those cheap fibers," someone says and I drop the rope as if I was a dog with a leash before baring my teeth at them as if I was a dog.

I follow the voice before it lands on the doctor, coming in with a small box I can only assume is a medical kit. It was eerily similar to the one my previous doctor used. Wanting to hate him I ask, "You steal that from someone?" I nod at it.

He takes it. Offering me a smile, and unlike my previous doctor, his is a full fledged smile that shows off his perfect white teeth. He seems to trust me. Odd thing. Trust is rarely earned but he gives it away so easily. Or at least is under the assumption I won't kill him any time soon. Hmm, only time will tell when I do finally get a chance to plunge a knife through him. "It was a gift from my father, passed down from generation to generation," he starts and my burrows furrow in confusion with the personal story before I realize what he's doing. He wanted to show me how he doesn't fear me and I can trust him back. Podonok (Fucker), he's taking advantage of my soft spot for doctors. "Anytime we graduate and become licensed, the person owning it gives it up." He looks at it before putting it down with a small glimmer of pride in his eyes. "I plan on giving it to my own daughter when she becomes a doctor."

"What if she doesn't want to follow the family business?"

His eyes meet mine before he shrugs, "Then I guess it will die with me."

That sends an abnormal pang in my chest that I have to look away from his soft gaze as my eyes become glossy. I shake my head. Those words should not have as much power as I was giving them. His voice rings true in my mind, Pathetica.

But I wasn't pathetic, not anymore. I was eight then and now I am 25, stronger and smarter than back then. He raised me well, so well he ended up behind bars only after my attempt to murder him failed. But a win is a win and I would get a second chance to end his life.

He grabs my chin and as if I was a rose, he handles me gently as he lifts my head, careful not to damage the pedals but also aware of the thorns. He inspects the small bruises I'm sure are forming now before releasing it and his eyes travel down my exposed body. In normal circumstances, I would hate the leering but his gaze is filled with nothing but worry, indicated by the crinkle in his eyes as he takes me in.

"I must say I'm surprised you're up. Most people who take the dose Cornelia accidently gave you are knocked out for hours."

I shrug, "Braver souls have tried better tactics." I look around the room, finally taking in how decorated it is. Black walls that allowed dim lighting from the 5 ring chandelier piece hanging above me, a dresser with a three way mirror filled with countless of perfume bottles, makeup, and small trinkets, what seems to be a walk in closet, and the princess canopy bed with dark moonlight curtains and a white duvet. It was beautiful and simplistic. Just like me.

Ringing my words true, I take a look at the girl I thought was long gone. My hair is back to the black ringlets of cascading curls around my shoulder and reaching my mid-back. My eerie cobalt blue eyes straight from a horror movie only enhanced the beauty of high cheekbones and tan skin. It has been a long time since I saw myself as what I was. Momma's farforovaya kukla (Porcelain doll). I heave out a sigh, beautiful and simplistic, just like she taught me to be.

"Speaking of Cornelia, where is she?" I ask, wanting to take my mind off of my unwarranted thoughts.

"Concerned?" he asks with a chuckle as he takes out a stethoscope and prepares to use it.

"No, just making sure she's not anywhere near me and keeping that mutt of hers away." I scrunch up my eyebrows, confused about what happened to said mutt.

"Well she's getting her nose fixed up and the dog is back at her apartment." I don't ask further about the fluff ball since I didn't care all that much, just making sure it wasn't near me.

"I'm glad she's getting it fixed," I nod and he raises a questioning eyebrow. I shrug, "I'd love the opportunity to break it again."

He lets out a chuckle of amusement. "Next time she'll protect it with her life, she's quite attached to it. Claims it's her best facial feature."

I roll my eyes at that information and trace through the trinkets as I feel the cool metal surface touch my sizzling chest. I find the ballerina box and my gaze stops as I take it in. Yebat. (Fuck) I think, this was not a good time for me to have noticed it. The doctor gives me a quizzical look but asks no questions as he takes it away and loops the device over his neck. It's now or never, I tell myself as I take a deep breath and nod towards it.

"What is that box doing here? Didn't Cornelia see that I was stealing all her stuff and want it back?"

He looks over at it, examining it before walking towards it and looking closer at it. "A musical jewelry box. She did, but he said you could keep it. So here we are, although if you want a different one, he'd be more than willing to buy it." He looks at the dresser and grabs the small stuff on it, "clearly."

My eyes bulge a little as realization dawns on me. "Are you saying those are meant for me?" I thought they were left by a previous owner or a current occupier who lent the room so I could let my defenses down.

He looks at me and gives me a quick nod, "He even had Antonio, the blonde guy with me, fix the closet with the clothes you stole and a few more. Same condition. If you don't like any- tell him- he'll buy new ones." Then he pauses and gives me a lamenting smile as he watches my whole face scrunched in bewilderment. "Sorry. I should have introduced myself as well."

Even with the tight ropes on my arm, I hold up my hand and shake my head, "don't bother. I plan on leaving soon and won't bother to remember it."

He gives me a chuckle. "Well when you do escape-" he says the word escape as if it was a joke I was telling, "you might need my help someday. So I'd rather you have it." He gives a small wave before saying, "My name is Viktor."

"I'd say it's a pleasure Viktor, but we both know it's not."

He gives me another small nod in understanding before clearing his throat. "We'll, you seem fine, just need to rest." He begins walking toward the door and bidding a goodbye when I feel the need to call out to him again. I'm not sure why, but he was better company than being left with my thoughts in a house that reminded me of my own prison.

So I say the first thing that comes to mind. "You mentioned a daughter, did she come with a wife?"

He narrows his eyes at me before seemingly understanding. Then he lets out another chuckle before nodding. "Yes, she did. My wife, Yara."

"Hmm, shame," I tell him. "But then-" I try my best to point at his hands, "where is your ring?"

He sighs lightly before pulling at his shirt and revealing the jagged scar on his collarbone. "I wear it around me."

I can't help my gaze as it lowers to my calf, the sensation of being bit into hangs over me like a storm cloud. I suppose that's why they call it phantom pain. Yet, the question leaves my lip like wine to an alcoholic, unable to stop it before it's too late. "Does it still hurt?"

He muses over it before replying, "sometimes I believe it does but I know it's not there."

And just like the question that slipped from my mouth like a sinner with temptation, my words come out. "I have those a lot."

"Scars?" his gaze hardens as he looks at me.

"Phantom pain. I can feel them all over my body some days more than others. Some days- none at all, and some-" I let my voice drift. Both of us knew how I would have ended the sentences. Sometimes- all of them.

Without being prompted he says, "I won't tell anyone what you tell me Zara. As your main physician, I promise. Unless it's crucial to your health. But he won't pry anyway."

I look at him and nod, not wanting to ask about the person he is mentioning. Instead I smack my lips and run my tongue across my bottom lip. And with a dramatic sigh says, "It really is a shame you're taken. I have a soft spot for certain types of doctors."

He leans on the wall, near the door and crosses his arms. In amusement, he asks "Do you? What kind?"

"The kind that takes care of me."

"Well then, it's good that the stubborn prick who brought you here likes to patch himself up and is very decent at it."

"Then why did he send you? Seems like he's just dying to meet me." I question with sarcasm.

He chuckles, "I volunteered and he had urgent matters he couldn't put off any longer to attend to."

"Yeah, it seems that stalking and kidnapping someone will take away from other priorities." I roll my eyes. This earns me a boisterous laugh, rugged and deep just as he is handsome.

Once the laughter dies down he speaks again. "Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you but food and water should be here in minutes."

"Wait-" I yell again. He turns and waits for me with a tilt of his head. "When do I get to meet him?"

"Whenever you're ready."

I fidget slightly with my hands and take a deep calming breath. It was better to knowingly walk into a den of vipers than wait for them to attack. Either way, waiting only made me more anxious.

"I'm ready now," I state firmly and finitely, leaving no room for debate which I can see brimming in Viktor's kind eyes. How someone as kind and selfless made it this far in the mafia world, beats me. This world had no room for such things.

It was something my daddy taught me: Kindness is weakness, hesitation is debilitating, and love is fragile. Don't give in to foolish vices. 

>>>>>

New chapter for a while. I'm trying to post at least every two weeks if I have the chapters. 

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