Stolen Souls

64

GALYA LAY ON her side, feeling the heat spread beneath her, the same metallic smell that had overwhelmed her just a day ago. She writhed, trying to pull her body away from the blood, but the chair held her in place. She worked her jaw and tongue until the towel fell from her lips.

Behind her, the sound of something hard piercing flesh. One man breathed hard with each thrust, the other gurgled and gasped, until only animal grunts remained.

She tried to force her weight forward. If she could turn on her front, onto her knees, maybe she could crawl away. The chair leaned and fell back again. She pulled once more, using her shoulders to twist the chair around. Again, it fell back.

Galya shrieked with the effort. This time, the chair followed her and her knees hit the concrete. She swallowed the cry and pushed forward.

Something pulled the chair back.

“You did this,” he said.

He turned the chair on its back, wrenching Galya’s arms. Her head struck the floor, and sparks ignited in her vision. She heard him step away, then return, his breathing coming in hard rasps.

A light exploded before her eyes, and she turned her head away.

“Look at me,” he said.

The torch beam found its way beneath her eyelids, no matter how hard she squeezed them shut.

His wet palm struck her cheek. “Look at me.”

Galya opened her eyes a fraction, saw the vague outline of his moon face by the burning light.

“You caused this,” he said. “You brought him here. You made me kill him. Everything’s ruined because of you. I have to run because of you.”

Galya could think of only a few words to say, all of them Russian, so she spoke them.

“English,” he said.

She repeated the words, the only sounds that meant anything to her.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” he said. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

He pointed the stained red blade of the screwdriver at her. “The Lord delivered you to me. So I will finish His work. I promised Him that. But you will suffer for what you’ve done. Beg forgiveness for your soul, for I will not spare you from the hell that’s waiting for you. But not here. It’s not safe here anymore because of you.”

She heard the screwdriver drop to the floor, felt the cold bite of the wire cutters working at the cable tie that held her left wrist to the chair.

Again, Galya spoke. Again, she said the only words that she could form.

She said, “Please, Mama, take me home.”