“P-please leave us alone,” I stammer, struggling to make my voice sound clear and strong in spite of my overwhelming fear. I don’t want him to see how frightened I am. I don’t want to let him win so easily. If I’m going to die here, I’m going to die with dignity.
He chuckles and tilts his head to the side. “Oh, she speaks! How are you feeling, malyutka? Did you sleep well? We gave you our best milk and honey to help you rest.”
“Please don’t hurt us,” Maggie sniffles, her voice barely audible with her face buried in my arms. Flameface clucks his tongue in mock pity.
“Hurt you? Nooo! Well, perhaps a little. But not to worry. I know how to twist and bend a little stick without breaking her for the next man. I’ll only loosen you up, make you limber. You are gymnasts, after all, no? Just think of me as your uchitel — your coach,” he sneers, shrugging as though it’s the most innocuous statement in the world. Maggie’s sobs wrack her entire body and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my own tears in check.
I refuse to let this beast of a man see me cry.
“What do you want from us?” I ask, holding my head high.
Flameface lets out a long, low hiss of pleasure at my question.
“What do you have to offer?” he propositions, leaning against the fence. He leers at me through the links, his pitch-black eyes sizing me up.
“For you, nothing,” I reply scathingly, surprised at my own bravery.
He turns quickly and grasps the fence, his thick fingers poking through the links as he gives me an angry, threatening glare. He bares his teeth like a wild animal, like a rabid dog.
“You’ve got a nasty tongue on you, malyshka,” he snarls. “But I can temper your tongue along with the rest of you. And I need no offer in place to take what I desire.”
My throat goes dry at this threat. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’ve never been so close to true danger. But I cannot let myself simply melt and fall to pieces like Maggie has — one of us has to stay strong. If I can only keep him distracted for as long as possible…
I’ve got to play his filthy game to stay alive.
“What would you do to tame me?” I ask, playing off his sadistic dirty talk. I feel disgusting for even engaging with him at all, but I can tell that provoking and angering him will only make him crueler toward us. If it were just me, I might try to deny him until the last possible moment, but with Maggie here I need to stay as close to his good side as I can. Even if it means resorting to flirtation with this hideous cretin.
Flameface has stopped in his tracks, reviewing me with a new, interested gaze. He’s surprised by my words, obviously, not accustomed to anyone playing along. I assume he’s used to more unwilling participants, and my upfront statement has put him off his usual game.
“Well, well, well. I did not expect such filthy talk from such a pure specimen. You dare to ask me what I would do to you? I wonder if you can even imagine,” he hisses, his hand reaching down to squeeze his crotch. I try not to grimace.
“T-tell me,” I continue. “I — I want to know.”
Flameface grins, his jagged teeth glistening in the low light. “I’m not much for pretty words, malyshka, but I will gladly show you what I have to offer.”
He steps forward and starts to fumble with the combination lock hanging on the gate. My heart races as I realize that I’ve probably only made things worse. My plan backfired. Instead of stalling his advances with talk, I’ve only stoked his filthy fire. I grab hold of Maggie and the two of us scoot backward, as far away from the fence as possible, until we’re backed against a slimy, cold wall. Flameface opens the gate and strolls into our enclosure, his brutish frame blocking the exit as he reaches into the front of his stained pants.
He walks closer to us and gestures for me to get up, but I shake my head and press myself more firmly against the back wall. Maggie cowers beside me, not even daring to look up.
“Stand up, shlyukha,” he orders, snapping his fingers.
“No,” I murmur, shaking my head vigorously and clinging to Maggie. My stomach turns in painful knots as I anticipate the blow to come.
“Ah, that’s not how it works. You see, I make the orders, and you carry them out. You don’t get to say no to me, little suka,” Flameface barks. As he comes closer I can see every ridge of his disfigured face, every shining streak of barely-healed flesh. “Now, get up!”
I stagger to my feet, standing in front of Maggie in a protective stance, my arms outstretched. Flameface gives me a quizzical glare, then a devilish look comes across his ugly features as a different idea occurs to him.