Worker Rahim saw her first. He arrived at the construction site at 4:47 am. Previously foreman, before the heat, before everyone else. 12 years in the Emirates taught him simple truth: whoever takes the shovel first, the last one gets hit. Abandoned a pit on the outskirts of Sharjah gaped in in the pre-dawn darkness, like an open wound.
The project was frozen 2 years ago. Another investor from Europe has escaped from debts Now the strays spent the night here dogs and the same stray people. Rahim walked around the perimeter checking if they stole or fittings overnight. He heard a sound. Not a groan, more like a breath. Wet, torn, like a wounded animal.
Concrete well of a technical mine. Depth meter three. Rahim turned on the flashlight on his phone and shone the light down. At first he thought: “Mannequin, a broken doll, which thrown away along with construction materials garbage. Too white skin, too the sharp corners of the bones underneath.” Then the doll blinked. She doesn’t speak.
Emergency doctor, middle-aged Filipina with her old eyes she glared policeman. He was writing something down tablet without raising your head. “At all? One word,” repeats it again and again. “What? Amira.” The girl was sitting on stretcher, wrapped in a thermal blanket. It seemed too big for her body. 39 kg with a height of 174 cm.
The doctor saw this in refugee camps. Never within 12 km of Burjkhalifa. The wrist is the worst. The marks from the handcuffs overlapped each other friend. Pink, white, crimson, like annual rings, cut down the tree. How much months, how many years. Are the documents with her? Nothing. Naked when found, but there something.
The doctor carefully lifted the edge blankets on the girl’s back. Tattoo. Black QR code the size of a credit card card, right between the shoulder blades. Professional work. Clear lines. No blur. The policeman pointed phone camera. The scanner beeped. A blank web page opened. Absolutely white screen. “What the hell is this?” – he muttered. The girl slowly turned her head.
For the first time in an hour she looked directly at person, neither through nor past. B [clears throat] her eyes flashed something like recognition. “Amira” – she whispered. Amira wants to go home. Identification took 40 minutes. Prints fingers, Interpol database, red checkbox in the system.
Kristina Andreevna Voronova. Date of birth: March 15, 2000 year. Place of birth: Voronezh, Russian Federation. Internationally wanted since April 2022 statement mother submitted. Last known location Dubai, Jumeirah area. 23 months, almost 2 years between last selfie on a yacht and a concrete well in cartoon The policeman looked at the photograph in the database.
Radiant girl with honey hair, perfect skin, smile at 32 bleached teeth. Professional modeling agency portfolio. Then looked at the creature on the stretcher. One and the same person. Impossible. Necessary. “Contact the Russian consulate” – he told his partner, and close this case from the press completely. Why? Policeman didn’t answer. He looked at the QR code.
Empty page. But someone created it. Someone registered a domain, someone paid for hosting, someone tagged this girl. as a product. To understand how Kristina Voronova ended up in this well, I need go back 4 years to small apartment in Voronezh, in a room with Naomi Kemble posters on the walls. On that the evening when twenty-year-old Christina I heard the word yachting for the first time and I believed that they were just beautiful photos at sunset.
Voronezh smelled poplar fluff and hot asphalt. June 2020. Christine just turned 20 and she stood in front of mirror in a tiny bathroom, drawing in stomach until my ribs hurt. Christine, you soon? Replace me. Mother knocked on door. Galina Voronova, 52 years old, nurse in city hospital room three. Salary 28,000 rub. Varicose veins on legs from twelve hours shifts Gray hair, which she has not had for 2 years painted over. Nothing. Just a second.
Christina looked at her for the last time your reflection. 174 cm, 53 kg. Cheekbones, like Bella, she walks on purpose compared from photographs. Eyes gray-green, a rare shade. On the wall above the mirror is a clipping from Naomi magazine Camel on the Versace runway, 1991. I more beautiful, thought Christina and then I didn’t believe myself.
Father left when she was 14. Not to another woman, just left. One morning I packed my sports clothes bag and said, “I can’t take it anymore.” Christina still didn’t understand what it was he who could not. Live with them, live in general, to be an adult. He sent money for the first 3 months, then stopped, then I changed my number.
Mother didn’t cry I just took a second shift at the hospital. “We can handle it,” she said. “We We always manage.” Christina hated this is the word. We’re coping. It meant pasta for dinner 5 days a week a week, meant a jacket from the market instead of from a shopping center, meant no on all school excursions. She swore to herself: when she grows up, never won’t cope. She will live.
Christina got her first shoot at 18. Looking for a local women’s clothing store model for the catalogue. 5,000 rub. for 8 hours of work. She stood under the softboxes in Polyester dresses and smiled like that, that my cheeks hurt. Photographer, sweaty a man of about forty said: “You have something. The camera loves you.
” Christina I remembered these words forever. After that filming, she started Instagram, posted photographs every day, studied poses, light, angles. I bought 100 subscribers rub. for 1,000 bots. Then the living ones came people. By the age of 20 she had 12,000 subscribers and not a single chance to get out from Voronezh.
She left the institute after second year. Are you crazy? Mother sat in the kitchen, clutching a cup of cold tea. Without a diploma. Where? Mom, I’ll be a model. Model? Galina laughed, but it was laughter bitter. Kristin, models are from Moscow. These are connections. This is money for a portfolio. U we have nothing. I’ll make money.
How posing in lingerie for online stores? Christina remained silent. She’s already filmed 15,000 per session. Bras, panties, bodysuit They usually showed their face, only body. Mother didn’t know. Yana appeared in her life by chance. They met on casting for shampoo advertising. Both are not passed.
Then we sat in a coffee shop drinking the cheapest lat. Yana was 3 older year. dyed blonde with extensions eyelashes and a real Louis Viton bag, not fake. “How long are you are you making money?” – she asked. “Thousands 30 a month when there is filming.” Yana smiled. Do you want 150 over the weekend? Christina almost choked on her coffee. This what, prostitution? God no. Yana rolled her eyes.
This called an escort. Dinners with the rich men. You’re beautiful, they pay for the company. Just sit, smile, listen to them stories about business and everything. That’s all. I got tired of the phone, showed the photos, restaurants with white tablecloths, bottles champagne, men in expensive suits. If a man wants more, you can always refuse. It’s your choice.
My choice, Christina thought. She repeated these words like a mantra when a month later I flew to Moscow. First weekend Dinner in Beluga. Vritz number Carlton. Envelope with cash. 150.000 rub. The man was ordinary, balding businessman 50 years old. He wanted to a beautiful girl listened to his complaints about wife.
Christina listened, nodded, laughed his jokes. In the room he asked for a massage. She did, he fell asleep. In the morning the envelope is on nightstand. I’m in control of the situation – she thought on the plane home. It’s simple work. Everything has changed in a year. Instagram grew to 50,000 subscribers. Photos from Moscow, Sochi, Turkey.
Designer dresses, customer gifts, restaurants, sunsets, yachts. Mother stopped asking where the money comes from. Christina I almost stopped feeling shame. Sometimes at night she woke up with the feeling that falls, something inside her knew. This is not just dinners are selling yourself. by parts.
But in the morning she looked at the balance cards, and the feeling disappeared. February 2022 year. Direct message from a stranger account. Avatar. Logo with gold letters. Elite Dubai Models. Hello Christina. We noticed your work. We are looking for models for exclusive events in Dubai. Fee from 10,000 dollars per evening. Interesting. Christina looked at the screen. 10,000 dollars.
750,000 rub. in one evening. She thought about the mother who earns these money for 2 years. Thought of Naomi Camble on the wall in the bathroom. I thought I I control the situation and pressed reply. After 3 months it will disappear. After 23 her found in a concrete well. But on that February evening, Christina Voronova from Voronezh was sure that this her chance. her ticket to real life.
She I didn’t know that I had already become a commodity, I just still undelivered. Moscow met her June heat. Christina got out of the taxi at the entrance to For Seasons and for a second froze. Glass doors. Doorman in to the left. Woman with Yorkshire Terrier Erms bag. “I’m there,” she wrote in direct to an account with a gold logo.
Lobby bar table window waiting. Lena Kristina didn’t recognize Savchenko right away photographs. There were no photographs because as the woman sat. Back straight chin slightly raised, gaze appreciative but warm. Professionally warm. 41 years old. Brown hair laid out as if she had just left stylist. The Chanel suit is not a replica.
On on the table is a colored Birkin bag. Christina, a smile that revealed perfectly white teeth. Have a seat, darling. I Elena. Maybe just Lena. Christina sat down on the contrary. The waiter appeared instantly. Champagne. Lena raised an eyebrow. Or you driving? Champagne, she said Christina. The voice didn’t waver.
She rehearsed. Lena nodded to the waiter. Two glasses. Ruinar. When he left, Lena leaned a little closer. You know, I 20 years ago I sat in your place, literally in the same hotel. Only then it was called differently. Were you a model? Was. Lena leaned back in her chair. Milan, Paris, a little Tokyo, and then I realized they make money on the podium agencies.
Models are simply beautiful goods with a short shelf life. She pronounced the word product as easily as coffee or the weather. I decided to switch to another side. Lena smiled. Now I I help girls like you. Smart girls. who understand that beauty – this is capital and needs to be invested right. They brought champagne and bubbles rose to the surface, burst, disappeared.
“Tell me about the agency,” she said Christina. “Elite Dubai Models is not modeling agency in the usual sense.” Lena sipped the champagne. We work with VIP clients. closed events, private fashion shows, yacht parties, sometimes accompaniment at business dinners. Escort. Lena laughed quietly, melodiously.
Honey, escort is when you are ordered on the site for 300 dollars per hour What we offer is different level, different league. She took out bags folder: black leather, gold embossing Contract for 6 months. Base Dubai. Guarantee $15,000 per month. Plus bonuses for events. Accommodation in apartments on Palm Jumeirah for our account.
Visas, flights, medical insurance. Us too. Christina looked at figures 15,000 dollars more than a million rubles per month. “What should I do?” – she asked. “Be beautiful, be Unna, smile at the right people.” – Lena shrugged. Sometimes spend the evening at company of a wealthy man. dinner, small talk, maybe a dance. A what if he wants more? Lena looked into her eyes.
The look became sharper. It’s always yours choice, Christina. We don’t force. But she paused. Girls who understand the rules of the game, earn money more, much more. They We talked for 2 hours. Lena told success stories. The girl left Samara marry a Saudi prince. Ukrainian opened her boutique in Dubai.
Model from Kazakhstan received a golden visa. View of residence for investors. “Golden visa,” Lena repeated. – this is freedom, this is status, this is the future.” Christina nodded. She didn’t ask why the contract in Arabic. Didn’t ask why agency her passport for visa processing. didn’t ask why You can’t tell your family details.
Everything these were red flags. She saw them but I saw the numbers in the contract and the bag Byurkin, and confidence in Lena’s eyes. The confidence of a woman who controls his life. “I want too “Yes,” thought Christina. “When departure?” – she asked. Lena smiled. In a week you will have time to say goodbye to loved ones.
Last call to mother the day before departure. Mom, I’m flying away to work as a model. to Dubai. Silence on the phone. Then a voice Galina is tired after the night shift. For how long? Six months, maybe longer. There good money. Christine. The mother fell silent. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t say it.
You just call, okay? At least sometimes. Of course, mom, everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. Christina repeated these words like a spell, like a prayer. Domodedovo Airport, flight EK134, Moscow, Dubai. Christina was sitting by porthole, looked at the diminishing Moscow.
Somewhere down there she remained former life: rented apartments, castings, envelopes with cash from sweaty businessmen. “It’s in the past,” I thought she. Now everything will be different. The plane was gaining altitude. Was in my purse contract in Arabic which she I didn’t read it. The passport remained with Lena for visa processing.
Phone showed the last message from his mother. Take care of yourself, daughter. Christina smiled at Tiordessa and took glass of champagne. Overboard 40,000 feet of emptiness. This was the last time when Kristina Voronova crossed border as a free person. In 6 hours she will land in Dubai. In 3 weeks will be at a closed auction.
After 23 months she will be found in a concrete well. 40 kg bones and skin with QR code between the shoulder blades and the only word on lips. But now, at an altitude of 12,000 m, Christina looked at the clouds and thought about golden visa, about freedom, about the future. She didn’t know that her future had already been sold.
Dubai greeted her with a wall of humid heat. Christina came out of the air conditioning terminal, and the air clung to my face, like hot towel. 42°. June. Lena was waiting at the black one Mercedes-sanitized glass. Welcome welcome home, baby. Apartments in Dubai Marina exceeded expectations. Twenty-eighth floor.
Panoramic windows from floor to ceiling. Swimming pool on the roof. View of the Persian Gulf. Turquoise water, white yachts, skyscrapers similar to needles stuck in the sand. We lived in the apartment seven more girls. Nastya from Kyiv 23 years old, brown hair, laugh like bell Karina from Minsk, thin, nervous, smoked a pack of cigarettes on the balcony day. Diana from St.
Petersburg, silent blonde with empty eyes. And one more thing four. Christina didn’t remember the names right away. We’re like sisters here,” she said. Nastya on the first evening. The main thing is not ask unnecessary questions and everything will be fine ok. Everything will be fine. Christina already I heard this phrase from myself.
First weeks of euphoria: parties on yachts, dinners in restaurants where the bill is at the table exceeded the mother’s annual salary. Men in white konduras smelling of oud and money. Sometimes continued in hotels. $3,000 per evening. 5 7. Christina sent my mother the first transfer of 100,000 rub.
Where? – Galina asked phone. Bonus for filming. Mom, it’s all here differently. Beauty is appreciated here. She hardly lied. Almost. Rules I learned quickly. Phones were given up before every event for customer confidentiality, – explained Lena. Communication with customers only through her. Exit from the apartments only with security.
Two Pakistanis with stones persons. Ahmed and Yusuf. This is for your safety,” Lena repeated. Dubai is not Moscow, girls are stolen here. Christina nodded. She didn’t ask why the security stands at the door outside, not inside, protecting them by locking them from the outside. Nastya disappeared in August, she just didn’t returned from the party.
Her bed remained filled. Cosmetics on shelf, suitcase in the closet. “I went home” – Lena said. Family circumstances urgently without things? – asked Karina. Lena looked at her for a long time, silently. Karina didn’t ask any more questions. In September. Christina tried call your mother. Phone? Lena raised eyebrow. Baby, you know the rules.
to me just need to say for 5 minutes that alive. Will you call after the event? Event lasted for 3 days. Yacht, Open sea, six men. Christina is back with bruises on the thighs and seven thousand dollars. The phone was never returned to her. “Temporarily,” said Lena, “your security.” October, November Christina stopped counting the days stopped asking about Nastya, stopped looking at the guards doors.
Money flowed into an account that she couldn’t check. Agency will translate everything at once when it’s finished contract. The passport was lying somewhere all over Files for visa processing. Golden cell. Christina understood this too much late. December 2022. Lena collected everyone in the living room. Six girls, two new ones instead of Nastya and Diana.
Diana also went home. Special event,” Lena said. Voice soft like silk. Closed auction. Very important people, members of the royal families She paused. Bonus 50,000 dollars each. The girls looked at each other. 50,000 is a year of work. This is freedom. What should I do? – asked Karina. Lena smiled.
Just be beautiful and obey. They were transported for 2 hours. Black SUVs with tinted windows, air conditioning full power. Behind the windows first skyscrapers, then suburbs, then sand endless, red, dead. Christina I was sitting between Karina and the new girl, Olya. Everyone was silent. Then the gate. Tall, forged cameras on each pillar.
For palace gates, white marble, fountains, palm trees, unnaturally green lawns grass in the middle of the desert. “Good “Welcome,” Lena said. Her voice sounded different, tense. They were taken to a room. White walls mirrors, hangers with dresses, gold, silver, red silk. Change your clothes fix makeup. Leave in an hour.
Lena turned to the door. Lena, called Christina. What does auction mean? Lena stopped and didn’t turn around. This it means, baby, that today yours will be decided future. The door closed. Outside the lock clicked. The hall was huge. Crystal chandeliers, marble floor, sofas upholstered in white skin, and men. 12, maybe 15.
White kondurs, gold watch. Persons who Christina saw it on the news. Girls taken to the center. Christina stood under the color of the spotlights in a golden dress on high heels that hurt my feet. Nearby are Karina, Olya and three more girls from other agencies. Six products per showcase.
A man in white, gray-haired, overweight, with a ring the size of quail egg, raised his hand. Number three. Russian how much? Christina was number three. 120, a voice came from corner. 150. 200. The numbers grew. Christina stood motionless, smiling, as taught. Something was screaming inside, something was beating against the ribs were torn out.
Run, run, run! But there was nowhere to run. 350.000″, – said the voice. Silence. Christina turned her head. Sat in the corner in the shade man. You can’t see your face, just a silhouette, only the shine of the clock. “Sold,” said presenter She was taken to a separate room. White walls, white bed. White door without a handle from the inside.
Christina she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling. 350,000. She didn’t know if it was dollars or derhams its price or rent for the night. door opened. A man came in, the same one from shadows. Now she saw the face. About 50 years old neat beard, black eyes, cold as oil. My name is Nasser” – he said in English. “You are mine.
” Christina opened her mouth and wanted to say something, anything, but the words are stuck in throat. Sheikh Nasser smiled. Don’t be afraid, I I’ll take care of my things. The door is behind him closed, the lock clicked, and Christina Voronova realized that she was no longer a person. She is a thing, a sold thing.
For the first week, Christina counted the days, scratched her nails on the plaster behind the headboard beds. Small vertical lines like movies about prison. 1 2trice the fifth crosses out. On the eighth day a woman in black came Filipina with empty eyes and silently I painted over the scratches with white paint.
Christina realized that they don’t count the days here. There are no days here. The room was perfect. Bed with Egyptian cotton, bathroom with Italian marble, dressing room with dresses, which she never chose. Their they just hung her while she was sleeping. Windows are not opened, air conditioner worked silent, temperature is always 22°.
Food was brought three times a day. Always the same thing: protein, vegetables, water. No sugar, no bread. I I take care of my things. Sheikh Nasser came at night. Not every night. Sometimes he disappeared for 3 days, sometimes for week. Christina never knew in advance. The door opened without knocking. He entered. She did what was required.
“You’re beautiful,” he once said, running his finger along her collarbone. “But you think too much, I can see it eyes.” Christina was silent, looking at ceiling. “The previous one also thought a lot, – Nasser continued. First year, then stopped. previous. Christina turned her head. What happened to her? Nasser smiled and stroked her cheek almost tenderly.
She understood the rules and became happy. He stood up and fastened his watch. Philip flowed, she has already learned white gold. You too you will understand. Everyone understands. The door closed. The lock clicked. In the third or fourth week, Christina I heard a quiet, feminine voice from ventilation grille above the bathtub.
At first I thought it was a hallucination, from silence, from white walls, from endless waiting, but the voice repeated itself. Hey you can you hear me? Christina’s heart froze started pounding. “I hear you,” she whispered. A pause, then a quiet laugh. Thank God I I thought I was going crazy. Who are you? Amira.
me name is Amira. Christina pressed her ear to grate. Cold metal. Smell conditioned air. I’m Christina. Russian? Yes. How long have you been here? Christina She closed her eyes and swallowed. I don’t know week, month. Quiet laughter again, but sad, dry, like sand. I’m here 3 year,” Amira said. “Three years, 4 months, 11 days.
” Christina I felt the floor go out from under me legs “3 years.” How, What do you think?” “Luna,” answered Amira. “From my room you can see a piece sky. Small, but enough.” Silence. Christina slid down the wall and sat down on cold marble. “I want to go home” – she whispered. Amira’s voice became softer. “I know, I want it too.
” They talked every night after 2 hours when the palace fell asleep, when The guards were watching football in the guardhouse when even the cameras seemed to blink less often. Amira said she is 22 from Morocco. Came to a modeling agency casting to Dubai. I woke up here. “How many of us here?” asked Christina. “I don’t know.
exactly. I heard voices. Sometimes crying sometimes screams, then silence.” “What does it mean silence?” Amira did not answer. A month or two later, Christina taken out of the room. Security guard, silent the Pakistani man led her down the corridor. White walls, white marble, cameras on each corner. The room at the end of the corridor.
medical office. Doctor, Indian glasses, examined her silently, took blood, I checked my teeth and wrote something down on my tablet. “Take off your clothes,” he said. Christina obeyed. The doctor examined her body professionally, indifferently The vet examines Scott. “Great” – he told the guard.
“It’s possible use.” “Use”. Christina returned to the room. An hour later he came Nasser, but this time not alone. There were three: Nasser and two others. Persons Christina I didn’t remember, I didn’t want to remember. This lasted all night. When they left Christina was lying on the bathroom floor, not cried.
The tears ended somewhere three o’clock. “Amira,” she whispered into the bars. Amira. Silence. Amira, please. The voice is quiet, broken. I’m here. How? How do you survive? Long pause. I pretend that I am no, that this is not my body, that it is real I’m somewhere far away, at home, in Cosoblanca, on the roof of our house, where my mother dries clothes.
Christina closed her eyes. Voronezh, courtyard. Bench at the entrance. Mom comes home from work tired, in a white robe with a bag from Fives. Take care of yourself, daughter. Amira. Yes, we will get out of here. Silence. Christina, I’m serious. We let’s get out. Amira didn’t answer, but Christina heard or imagined it.
A quiet sob. The next day the Filipina brought breakfast and something else. Little black case, needle, ink inside. Owner ordered, – said the woman, – not move. Christina was placed on her stomach. The needle entered the skin between the shoulder blades. Pain sharp, burning. Christina bit the pillow. QR code.
She didn’t know what it was, she didn’t know where it leads, but I understand, now she inventory. Labeled, accounted for, property. That night Amira asked: “You too did you do it?” Yes, between the shoulder blades? Yes. Pause. This means he has decided on you leave for a long time. Christina clenched her fists. I won’t stay. Christina, I won’t stay. Amir’s voice is quiet, almost inaudible.
Then you need Fatima. Who? Maid, old Worked here 20 years, hates it Nasser. Her daughter? Amira fell silent. What’s wrong her daughter? was one of us for 5 years back. Was silence. Fatima comes on Thursdays cleans rooms on the ground floor if you can talk to her. Steps in corridor. Amira fell silent.
Christina held my breath. Footsteps passed by. But the conversation was over. Christina was lying in darkness. My back was burning. Not tattooed yet healed. There is one word in my head: “Fatima”. Thursday. She didn’t know what day it was day, but she’ll find out if she gets out or will die trying.
She stopped counting after that day. Not because I got lost, but Mira taught her the system. Moon, phases, 29, by days in a cycle. Christina saw the edge sky through the ventilation grille in bathroom, if you stand on tiptoe and twist your neck. She stopped counting because the numbers no longer had meanings.
Who cares? 300 days or 400, 500 or 600. She’s still here. Amira. Shop ventilation. Ritual. The only thing that kept her afloat. I’m here. How much is it now? Pause. Amira I always thought. Amira never gave up. 847. Christina closed her eyes. 847 days. 2 years. 3 months, 17 days if Amira is not I was wrong. How are you? – Amira asked.
Christina didn’t answer. How could she answer? The body was changing. She saw it in the mirror bathroom, the only mirror that she left. The ribs showed through the skin. The collarbones stuck out like broken wings. The thighs are sharp and angular. 42 kg maybe 41. There were no scales, but she knew. Hair dull, brittle.
She tore them out strands when Nasser left, just to feel something. More than emptiness. Nasser came less often. Previously two to three times a week, now once every 10 days, sometimes less. Christina didn’t know be happy about it or be afraid. He’s losing interest,” Amira said one day. This is bad.
Why? When they lose interest we are being handed over. Or she didn’t finish, no it was necessary. Christina heard screams from other rooms, I heard crying. I heard the silence that followed. The silence was the worst. Fatima came on Thursdays. Christina I learned to determine the days. Not by the moon, by sounds Monday.
Washing, hum of machines below. Wednesday – gardener, lawn roar mower Thursday Fatima. Shuffling steps ringing, buckets, the smell of bleach. Christina I was waiting. Two or three months. Fatima did not go up to her floor. She afraid,” Amira explained. After my daughter she’s afraid of what? The same thing that happened with her. Christina shook her fist.
I’ll find way. On day 612, Nasser brought guests. Two men. Christina did not see their faces. To her blindfolded. She heard voices laughter, clinking glasses. Then hands, a lot hands She went inside herself, to where it was dark and quiet, where mom was reading bedtime stories for her, where her father has not yet went to where she was still human.
In the morning she could not get up. Filipina brought breakfast, looked at her, left. The doctor came 3 hours later. The same Indian, the same cold hands. It will heal,” he told someone outside the door. A week of rest. Can be used. You can use. Christina looked at the ceiling. I am a thing. I- inventory. I’m nobody.
Christina. Amira’s voice. Night. Ventilation. Christina. Answer silence please. Christina opened her mouth. Closed it. What say? “I heard,” Amira whispered. I heard what they were doing. I’m sorry. Not I need it, Christina. I said no need. Silence. Then it was quiet, almost inaudible. You still here? Christina didn’t understand the question.
B do you mean inside? Are you still you? Christina I wondered who she was. Kristina Voronova, 22 years old, Voronezh. No, that girl no more. That girl died on auction. Died when Nasser said mine. Died when the needle entered the skin between the shoulder blades. I don’t know – honestly she answered.
Then hold on to me, – Amira said. Hold on to my voice. I your anchor. You are mine. Amira, we will get out. You promised. Christina closed her eyes. She promised. A word from a past life. On day 802, Christina heard a new voice. Female, young, Russian. Crying screams, pleas. Please, please let me go, I won’t tell anyone.
Christina pressed against the wall. New Amira, – she whispered at night. Did you hear? Yes, Russian. Yes. How old is she? Pause. Voice young. Maybe 20. Christina clenched her teeth. 20. How was she then at the beginning? She “He’s been screaming for three days now,” Amira said. It will stop soon. Why? Because will understand. Screaming doesn’t help.
Christina I remembered my first days. How it fought at the door, how she lost her voice, how she scratched walls, as they stopped. I want with her talk. It is forbidden. Her room is far away. Ventilation does not connect. Then, Christina, don’t. What? Don’t get attached they disappear. Amira’s voice is flat dead. I’ve heard of seven before you.
Voices in the walls, crying, screaming, then silence. Always quiet. Christina was silent. “Don’t get attached,” Amira repeated. “It hurts.” On day 847 today, Fatima rose to second floor. Christina heard footsteps I recognized them and my heart began to beat. Thursday, Fatima. Second floor.
She pressed herself against doors. The steps approached and stopped. The sound of a bucket right outside the door. Christina knelt down and pressed her lips to cracks under the door. “Fatima!” – whispered she. Silence. Fatima please, I know about your daughter. The steps froze. Please help me. Silence. Then a whisper. Old cracked voice.
Do you want die like her? Christina closed eyes. I want to get out. It’s the same thing same. No. Pause. No, she repeated. Christina. I’ll get out with your help or without, but with yours I have a chance. Silence. Steps leaves. Christina stings fists. No, no, no, no. And then quietly, almost inaudible from behind the door.
Next Thursday. Be ready. Steps left. Christina pressed her forehead to cold floor next Thursday. She doesn’t knew what it meant. But for the first time in 847 days she had something… something she thought was lost forever. Hope. That night she whispered ventilation: “Amira, huh? Next Thursday.
Silence! Are you sure?” Fatima said, “Be ready.” Long pause. Christina, if this is a trap, then I will I’ll die. Christina, but if not, we let’s get out. Both. Silence. Both. Amira. I won’t leave without you. Amira’s voice is trembling, breaking. You don’t know where my room is. I’ll find out. You you don’t know how to get out of the palace.
I’ll find out. You, Amira, what do you want to go home? A sob, quiet, almost inaudible. Yes. Then trust me. Silence afterwards. 854. What? Next Thursday. 854 days. Christina closed her eyes. 854 days. 7 days. 7 days until freedom or death. She I was ready for both options. 7 days. Christina lived them for like 7 years.
Every sound, steps in the corridor, creaking doors, security voices. forced my heart stop. Every night she lay awake staring at the ceiling and repeating about yourself. Thursday, Thursday, Thursday. On the third day Nasser came. She doesn’t resisted, did not cry, lay motionless, as Amira taught, and thought about Voronezh, about mother’s hands, smelling hospital soap, and the poplars outside their window apartments.
When he left she whispered ventilation. 4 days. “I think” – Amira answered. Thursday. Christina woke up before dawn. My heart was beating so loudly that it seemed that the guard behind the door should hear. She forced herself to breathe slowly, evenly. If Fatima doesn’t come, means it’s a trap. If he comes, it means chance.
Anyway, that’s all today will end. Breakfast. Protein, vegetables, water. She I forced myself to eat everything. Will be needed strength. The morning hours dragged on endlessly. Then familiar steps, heavy, shuffling, squeegee boxes with detergents. Fatima. The door opened. Christina sat on the bed with her hands folded on my knees.
As usual, like everyone Thursday. Fatima entered. Silent behind her Pakistani security guard. He stood at the door crossing his arms over his chest. Fatima started wipe the dust silently, slowly. Her the wrinkled face was inscrutable. Trap. It was a trap. She passed me. And now there’s a toilet,” said Fatima to the security guard. Plumbing. Check.
The guard frowned. What kind of plumbing? The water doesn’t go away. I’m saying this for the third time. Do you want to explain to the owner why it stinks? The guard winced and looked at Christina, thin, motionless, safe. 5 minutes. He left. Fatima continued to dust. Christina doesn’t breathed.
What’s happening? What should I do? “Under the mattress,” Fatima whispered, not turning around. “Quickly!” Christina She slid her hand under the mattress. Fingers felt the fabric. She pulled out a black one both are long, covering the entire body. And no cap, just a slit for the eyes. Put on 30 seconds Her hands were shaking so much that Christina dropped the fabric twice, pulled the obaya over a hospital shirt, a cap on the face.
Servants’ door. Fatima is still not looked at her. Ground floor – east wing Code 4721. Repeat. 4721. Behind the door is a truck yard. At 6:00 In the evening a food truck arrives. The driver is my nephew. He will take you to Sharjah. And Amira? Fatima froze. Which one Amira? Mine. Christina paused. Other girl on the floor above. Moroccan.
Fatima turned around. Her eyes are dark, tired, full of something that Christina couldn’t read. I only know about you. I don’t I’ll leave without her. Then you will die. Where is her room? Footsteps in the corridor. Fatima grabbed Christina’s hand. Grip unexpectedly strong for an old woman. Third floor. Room with a blue door.
That cat same. But if you get caught, I won’t let you down I know. Do you understand? The door opened. Security Guard entered. Fatima stood at the window, wiping glass Christina in the corner, in a black obaya with head down. Who is this? Security Guard frowned. New cleaning lady. Fatima even didn’t turn around. From the agency.
Third It’s been a day here, but there’s no sense. She knuckled finger at Christina. Bucket, corridor, wash. Let’s. Christina took the bucket. Hands were shaking. He sees, he understands. Now he. The guard looked at her through her the way they look at furniture. Finish faster. He turned to the phone. Christina went out into the corridor. Third floor.
She rose through the ranks pressing against the wall. The bucket is in the hands of an alibi. Abaya is a disguise. Heart in throat. Blue door, code 4721. Amira. The third floor corridor was empty. Three doors. White, white, blue. Christina I walked up and dialed the code. Click. door opened.
The room is an exact copy of it own. White walls, white bed, the window they open and the girl on the bed. Thin, dark hair, huge eyes. Amira. For the first time in 854 days Christina I saw her face. Christina voice of Amir trembled. Are you real? Get up quickly. Amira did not move, she looked at she’s like a ghost. I thought, I thought you won’t come. I thought Amira.
Christina came up and took her hands. We have 5 minutes, maybe less. Are you coming with me now. Tears flowed down Amir’s cheeks. I can’t. My legs. I hardly walk. I didn’t get out of bed for a month. Christina looked down. Amira’s ankles, swollen, covered with ulcers. No, no, no, no. I’ll carry you. You can’t. You yourself. I’ll carry you.
Christina stole I charm myself, threw it on Amira, helped stand up. Amira cried out in pain quietly, through teeth. Put your arms around my neck. Hold on. They went out into the corridor. Amira hung on Christina, light as a child. How much does she weigh? 35 k. Less? Service ladder. Second floor, first. East wing. Servants’ door.
- Cheek. The door opened. Sun. Christina closed her eyes. After 2 years in a white room the light cut my eyes like a knife. “Yard” – she whispered. “We need a van.” They took three steps, and then behind a voice rang out: “One hundred! Christina turned around. the guard is not the same one her door, another, young with a walkie-talkie in hand.
He looked at them, at two figures in black, on Amir’s legs, deep, swollen, clearly not the cleaning lady’s legs. His hand reached out briefly. Who are you? Christina felt Amira trembled. It’s over. We didn’t have time. We And then Fatima came out from around the corner. In her there was a knife in his hand. Fatima moved quickly. The knife entered the guard’s neck from the side under jaw. He wheezed.
The radio fell out of fingers. Fatima caught her before she hit the concrete. “Go,” she whispered she is a van. “Now.” Christina doesn’t could move, looked at the body. A young guy, maybe 25 years old, was twitching on the ground. Blood flowed between the tiles. “Go.” Amira grabbed her neck stronger. Christina, please. They ran.
Christina carried Amir through the yard, past the cargo trucks containers, past empty cells for Sokolov, past the fountain with the switched off water. My legs were burning, my lungs were burning, everything it was burning. A white van stood at the gate. The driver, a young Arab, saw them, opened the back door. Lie down quickly.
The inside smelled of fish and ice. Plastic boxes. Christina laid Amira between them. lay down next to me. The door slammed shut. Darkness. The engine started. The van started moving. They drove for an hour or two, Christina did not knew. Amira was lying next to her, holding her I didn’t let go of my hand.
“You came” – she repeated. “Have you come for me?” I promised. “Nobody ever.” Amire’s voice lost his temper. Christina hugged her close. We got out. We got out. We are a van stopped. The door opened. Light. Get out,” said the driver. I won’t go any further I can. This is Sharjah, construction site. They are not looking there.
Christina crawled out and helped about world. Abandoned building, concrete columns, construction waste. Wait until morning,” said the driver. Then go to the road and catch a taxi. Russian consulate in Dubai. Do you remember? Yes. He left. They stayed alone. The night was cold. Christina found a corner protected from the wind, sat Amira down, herself sat down next to me.
“We did it” Amira whispered. “We” She coughed long, too long. When cough stopped, there was blood on her lips. “Amira.” Everything is fine. Amira smiled. It’s a long time ago, just a long time ago. Christina looked at her. 3 years 4 months. How many of them are without a doctor? In the morning we Let’s find a hospital. Yes.
Amira closed eyes. In the morning she laid her head On Christina’s shoulder. Tell me about snow. What did you say through the ventilation? about Voronezh, about snow in winter? Tell me more. Christina swallowed. It is white, clean, when it falls, it is quiet, it’s very quiet, and the whole city seems falls asleep. Beautiful. Yes, I want to see. You’ll see.
Amira didn’t answer. Her breathing became smooth. She’s asleep, Christina thought. She sat motionless, looking at the stars. For the first time in 854 days there is real sky. Amira died before dawn. Christina I didn’t understand right away, just in some way moment I noticed that the shoulder was under her cheek it became cold that the chest no longer rises.
Amira. Silence. Amira. Christina shook her. Amira. Nothing. She screamed for a long time then she stopped. Rahim found her at 4:47 am. Concrete well, 3 m deep. Christina was lying at the bottom, naked, 39 kg, traces of handcuffs on his wrists. She took off everything and went downstairs. Why not I remembered.
The only thing she said was Amira wants to go home. Epilogue. 6 months later. Galina Voronova sat by her daughter’s bed. Psychiatric clinic near Voronezh private. Paid for some kind of relief fund victims of human trafficking. Christina looked out the window. Snow was falling outside the window. “Daughter,” said Galina, “do you hear me? Christina was silent, then slowly, I turned my head for the first time in six months.
Mother. Galina began to cry. Sheikh Nasr continued to live in the palace Al-Maktom. Lena Savchenko disappeared through a month after Christina’s escape. Her body is so and were not found. Fatima was executed quietly, without court. Farid Al-Mahmoud discovered something new agency.
The QR code on Christina’s back led on a blank white page. Domenchen to 2030. Christina checked out via year She wasn’t a model anymore used social networks, did not flew airplanes. She worked in hospice, cared for the dying. Sometimes at night she woke up and went to the window, looked at the snow and whispered: “You see, Amira, he’s really white.
