Lost

T H I R D P E R S O N P O V :

The woman let the heavy, metal door slam as she walks deeper into the room. Her eyes dart directly to the camera, she's used to watching it every time she steps inside. She goes directly to the small, tired girl who sits curled up in a tight ball, her knees to her chest.

The little girl never liked the camera. She knows he looks through it all the time. She often sits under it, away from his view. She likes it better when he doesn't watch her.

The small girl flinches, tucking herself into her arms. The sound from the door shocks her awake. She thinks for a moment that they've come to hurt her for the second time today.

The woman is soon out of the cameras view. She bends down, whispering to the little girl. "It's just me." Her voice is flat.

The girl relaxes a little, her head lifting up to look. Silent tears roll down the little girl's cheeks.

The girl tries hard not to cry but her bruises still hurt. She doesn't feel good.

The woman feels a connection to the small girl, after all, she was there when she was born. She wasn't close with the girl nor did she want to be. She was just doing her job as his pet.

She meets the eyes of a familiar piercing blue. The woman was always meant to look after the small girl by bringing food and cleaning her. It was dangerous to even speak to her but she knew she could get away with it. She can't let the girl die, she needs her alive.

"Did you sleep?" The woman whispers blankly, pushing a small food tray to the little girl.

An apple, a bread slice, a cheese stick. A small cup of water.

She shakes her head no.

"Good." The woman quirks, ripping the bread into smaller pieces. "He only visits when you sleep, remember you can only close your eyes when I'm here." She glances up at the camera, her eyes stuck to the red blinking light. The little girl nods her head. "Yes?" The woman stresses with annoyance in her tone.

"Yes." The girl replies in a broken whisper.

The woman smiles as the girl takes a ripped up piece of white bread and chews on it slowly. The smell sickens the little girl's stomach, she isn't used to food and when she has it, her stomach gets all weird and grumbly. She doesn't like the feeling.

"I'll be back. Soon." The woman rushes. "Eat. If anyone comes in here.. you do as I said. You don't move and you lock your arms around your legs. They can't hurt you that way."

The girl silently nods.

The woman looks at the girl in pity. It is sad in theory, of course. A helpless little girl.

The woman walks out without another thought.

The girl plays with the bread, watching the woman leave again like she always does. She'd never stay or be able to save her from the people who hurt her.

The girl knows that. Though, she also doesn't like that she knows that.

Her skinny frame is sore from the beating she got earlier. The one she woke up to. Every other day they come to hit her, making sure she stays weak. They see her father in the girl and they hate him.

Her father represents their dimise, their failure. They can't stand that.

The girl drops the bread, sniffling. It hurts too much to chew.

She sinks her head between her knees, curling to herself tighter, tears roll off of her tinted cheeks.

Will she ever be safe?

• • •

The woman drops to her knees, her head bowing. Inside she's filled with angst.

"Master." She greets.

"Up, pet."

Her legs find her standing but still, her head sinks low. Your eyes must never meet those of your master unless he tells you so specifically. The first rule she was taught.

"You will get the girl, there's something that needs to be taken care of, something in America. The girl is to not be out of my sight, you will be her keeper. She needs to be weak, she no run. You be dead if she's gone." His Russian accent leaves is sentences broken.

The woman shivers, but stays silent. Her life depends on it. It always does.

Her eyes stay shut, her mind in overdrive. Her father. The woman thinks. The girl's father is in America.

"Do you understand?" The man hisses, tossing the still hot, butt end of his cigarette. The hot stick hits the woman's shoulder and her face flushes at the heat.

The woman stays silent, her tears pricking the back of her eyes in anger. The only thing keeping her alive is that little girl in the basement.

"Speak, pet!" He growls, crossing his legs up on his desk.

"Yes, master." The woman says as sweetly as she can muster.

"Leave." The man commands as he lights another cigarette, placing it between his lips.

• • •

Three days have passed, the woman knows she has to act soon.

They are in America now, New York to be specific.

The woman holds the girl tightly the entire time, keeping her from escaping.

Since the girl isn't in the basement anymore, her bruising started to get lighter, her small cuts are scabbing. She's been torture free for four days now. Each second is bliss.

Four men sit around a meeting table, drinking richly with the finest drinks from Russia. The woman sits in the darkest corner of the room, cradling the small, sleeping girl.

"Having the kid around reminds me why I hate them." Ivan grumbles, his Russian accent reeking.

The men laugh.

"Disgusting little things aren't they." The man to Ivan's left hisses.

"You have no idea." Ivan chuckles, swirling his drink before he takes a sip.

Ivan only visited the girl twice and each time it left the girl bruised and crying. He watches through the cameras though, to make sure she stays alive.

In all honesty, he doesn't care much about the girl. It's her father he is interested in.

"When will this trade take place Mr. Moscow? Our boss doesn't like to wait." The man across from him buts in, getting annoyed at the rambling. He doesn't give a shit about the girl, his boss does.

Ivan's face contorts in annoyance. In all honesty he is contemplating actually going through with this. He enjoys the power he has over the girl's father. He relishes in the thought of telling him that for years he was powerless in saving what was his.

Ivan has spent countless nights dreaming of the look on his enemy's face when he finally knows, by then it'd be too late. He would have already broken the man's daughter. That theoretical day keeps him wanting for more power.

"Why don't your boss come here. I no like messengers." Ivan spits to the man in front of him in broken English.

"They need to be sure. They don't have time for frauds."

"I am no fraud!" Ivan's glass slams down on the table making the woman in the chair jump in the slightest. "Your boss no come in next two days, I kill the girl." Ivan of course is bluffing, he can't lose his only leverage. "Look. Want proof? Pet, here!" He snaps at her.

The woman's eyes dart up, worried. She's been listening and she doesn't like anything that is coming from their mouths.

Nonetheless, the woman stands with her arms right around the child's body. Each man watch as she follows out from the shadows, each gaze casts on the little girl who lays sleeping in her arms.

"Wake her."

The woman swallows what is left in her dry mouth. She's unsure what he wants to do. That makes her nervous.

"Girl." The woman whispers harshly. Servants aren't allowed to be attached to their things. The woman shakes the child. "Wake."

The woman drops the girl on her feet when the girl stays sleeping. She hazily wakes. The woman licks her dry lips, holding the girl up by her armpits.

She opens her eyes, shuttering back when she sees four pairs of eyes starring straight at her. The girl trembles back until she hits the legs of the servant.

"Pretty thing, eh?" The man to Ivan's left smirks. The girl's eyes snap to him. Immediately, tears come to her eyes.

This is the man who is in charge of hitting her, keeping the little girl weak. He is also Ivan Moscow's right hand man.

"If only she was older.. she'd be useful then." The lust is evident in his words. The girl trembles beneath the woman's arms.

Tears started trickling down the girl's cheeks.

Ivan's callous hand whips out and grabs her by the cheeks, she lets out a cry. The woman gasps lowly but doesn't stop him. Ivan's hands grip tighter on her fragile jaw as the girl shutters. He turns her head to the other two men in the room.

"You know I am truth. Perfect picture of him.. eh?"

He's right, the girl does look just like her father, there is no denying it. Though, her eyes, those were not the same.

One of the men across from Ivan whispers to the other. The other man nods, leaving the room, pulling out his phone.

Ivan's grip never leaves the crying girl while the men finish their business. The woman is praying silently that nothing will happen now. She needs time. Her plan has to work.

"Tomorrow." The man says to Ivan, putting his phone away.

A devilish smile lays on Ivan's lips. His tight grip loosens and the girl falls to the floor with a harsh thud. She cries out, pain racking through her body.

"Tomorrow." Ivan agrees.

• • •

"Yes, little brat like her mother." Ivan snickers into the phone. "Though, I find her mother is much more submissive." A snide smirk lays on his face while the woman holds back her annoyance.

The little girl hasn't stopped crying since they got in the car. It's like she can sense something is wrong.

"Isn't it dangerous to be in this neighborhood?" The man on the phone asks Ivan.

"No. The girl will not leave my eyes." He speaks as his glare settles on the scared little girl in front of him.

The woman shifts, hoping Ivan can't sense something wrong.

Time passes, dusk sets. It is almost fully dark on the streets, rain trickles down. The woman stands holding the girls hand, they're in front of a sleek black car, someone steps out.

The person comes out of the limo, smoothing out their outfit. Their men stand watch on their side, ready to attack if needed.

The woman's eyes glance over them. Stay focused. Don't let them see you.

The woman squeezes the girl's shoulder as if to tell her remember, remember the plan. Do as I told you. The girl whimpers, her shoulder sore.

They talk, taking burns at each other. But as all of the leaders attention is focused off the two girls in the corner, the woman speaks quietly.

"Listen." Her voice drops to a whisper. Her voice is drowned out by the passing cars driving through the rain, the only sound keeping the men from hearing her. "Now, run."

The small girl shakes her head repeatedly, her cries coming out as whimpers. She's too scared to leave the only person she's ever known.

"Run. Miss the puddles, they can't hear you. Do it now. Don't you dare look back." The woman hisses, carefully taking her hands off the crying girl. "Find him. Go."

The small girl's eyes stammer at the sight in front of her. The guns drawled, the yelling. She listens to the woman and then, she runs.

• • •