Chapter Three

THREE

Marlowe Sage Kunetsov 

For days, I was unsure where I was. I was constantly drugged up, falling in and out of sleep, and curling up because of all the pain I was feeling when I wasn't asleep. 

I had a very vague memory of the things that happened after I had been sold. I had not seen who I had been sold to or where I had been driven to. 

The only constant since that night was the latina doctor that had been taking care of me at intervals. 

I opened my eyes and looked around the room, inhaling deeply. It was the first time I woke up and wasn't assaulted by a horrible headache. 

I slowly climbed out of the bed, delirious from all the drugs the latina doctor had stuffed me with. 

I climbed out of the bed slowly, looking around the room for the first time. 

It was plainly decorated and furnished, but every article of plain furniture looked like it cost five figures. I could tell because I had once lived a life of luxury. 

The reminder of how my whole life fell apart after my father died stung more than the welts and injuries on my back that were still healing. 

I swallowed, trying to push away the thought of my reality. I had been sold. I was in the house of my buyer, and I had not seen his face once. I had been taught to call whoever bought me master, but I would rather die than do that. 

Maybe if I died, I would be put out of whatever misery they planned to put me through before it even started. And I would not have to worry about my mother. I nearly burst into tears at the thought of her. 

I breathed deeply, forcing every painful thought to the back of my hazy mind. I needed to find my way around here… or find my way out of here. 

My throat was excruciatingly dry. I was dying for a water. Even a drop. 

I stumbled towards the door, using the walls to keep myself on my feet. 

Surprisingly, the door was open. I immediately felt like it was a trap, but I could not stop myself. I needed water so bad. 

The hallway was large. The ceiling was so high, and across from where I was standing was decorated wooden railings that would keep me from plunging to my death, if my I'll luck decided to strike again. 

I blinked and headed down the hallway till I got to the stairs. I held onto the bannister, managing to keep myself on my feet as I went down the stairs. 

I met a living room. It was a wide expanse of space that was decorated with black and white furniture pieces. There was a gas fire place and a TV large screen. The wall to ceiling windows were covered by dark blinds. I could tell because artificial light was bleeding through one of them. 

I walked through a large door on the side and unsteadily made my way down the hallway. I heard music. 

The closer I drew to the end of the hallway, the louder the music grew and through the haze in my mind, wondered if going further would be a good idea. But I was driven by the need for water, for survival. 

I walked further in an found another living room area. The music was so loud I could not hear my labored breathing. The large living room smelt like alcohol, sweat, sex and expensive perfume. 

There was a handful of men and women double their number. Each man had two women pinned to them, either dancing with or on them. 

I looked around for water, hoping that I would be invisible. 

The music abruptly stopped and I looked at them again. One of the men, the most handsome of them was standing with a remote in one hand and a glass in the other.

“You’re alive,” he said with wonder, tilting his head to the side and studying me. “I thought you'd died with how long you've been up there,” he chuckled and walked towards me. He stumbled slightly and that was when I noticed the slur in his words. 

He as drunk. My heart sank and I tried to get away. He closed the distance between us swiftly, wrapping an arm around me. 

“Come on. You've been up there too long. Join us.”

“Who's she?” One of the women quietly asked. 

“Everyone meet Spice, one of my brother's latest purchases.” He raised his glass and resumed the music with the remote. 

He led me towards one of the couches and I groaned. I just wanted some water. 

“Water,” I groaned. “Please, water.” I pleaded. 

“What's that?” He leaned close to me after rolling up a joint. Now that he was so close, he looked familiar and at the same time, he didn't. Maybe my mind was playing games with me. 

“Water,” I almost sobbed. He shook his head and poured me a glass of amber liquid. 

“Here. This is better.” He brought it to my lips. I didn't want the alcohol, but it seemed like it would be the only liquid I would be getting. And I was desperate.

I shakily took the glass from him and swallowed the liquid greedily. I regretted it immediately. I almost dropped the glass. 

“That's some good shit, huh?” He laughed, setting the glass on the coffee table and taking a puff of the joint. 

The bitter liquid had burnt my throat and I could feel it all the way to my stomach. I didn't have anything else there. 

I groaned as the headache I was feeling intensified and my stomach started to hurt. Nausea hit me in brutal waves and I pushed away from the couch. 

I didn't know this guy and I didn't know that he, or his brother would do if I threw up here. 

“Hey, don't be a party shitter,” one of the other guys laughed at me. 

“That's not a word, Danilo,” a lady said, unimpressed. Danilo laughed harder. My vision spun and I fell, wondering what was happening to me. 

Shouts echoes around me. “What the fuck?”

“Maxim, what did you give her?”

“Is she dead?”

The music stopped for a second time. I retched, clutching my belly and someone came behind me. 

“What's going on? Are you okay?” He asked. It was the guy who gave me the drink. He seemed sober now, and on the edge of panic as he pulled my hair back. 

“I…” I cried and retched, hoping I would die and be put out of this misery. I felt the liquid come up my throat, burning worse than it had before. 

My hands gave out under me and I would have landed face first in my vomit if it wasn't for the hands that came around me. 

“What the hell is going on here?” a voice I found strangely familiar ripped through the chaos and the air seemed to shift to terror.

— — —

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the excruciating pain I had passed out from to come back. It didn't. 

And the ceiling I was looking at was not the same one I had woken up to earlier. I sat straight, hissing at the slight tug in the skin on my back. 

I looked around and my heart nearly fell out of my chest when I saw a man standing in front of a wall to ceiling window with the curtains drawn. 

He must have heard my gasp because he turned around. I quickly looked down at the black blankets that enveloped the area below my torso. 

“You're awake. Fucking finally.” He sounded an almost impossible mix of amused and bored. 

I said nothing. It was his voice I had heard back before I passed out earlier. The voice that seemed familiar. 

“A doctor flushed your system of the alcohol. You were reacting to it and the drugs you've been taking.” He said and paused. His footsteps drew closer and I inhaled sharply, my thoughts racing. I needed to know what his next plan was. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked. I swallowed and nodded, still refusing to look at him. 

“Speak.” His calm command caused my stomach to flip. 

“I feel better,” my voice broke. My throat still hurt.

I summoned the courage to look at him. The dark, curly hair, his dark eyes and the mysterious expression in them. The angles on his face and his lips. His well groomed facial hair was new, unfamiliar but perfect. 

I recognized this man. He seemed to notice. “Do you remember me, Sage?” He had a small smile on his face and his voice was low. He sat at the corner of the bed. 

My brain raced and my heart suffered from severe arrhythmia. The shock I was feeling was ineffable. “M-mikhail?”