Page 70 of Views
“In the kitchen!” he shouts. “She’s in the kitchen.”
Yasira disappears into the hallway. She is already in the living room. She hears the front door crash behind her. Knives in hand, she runs toward the patio door. A guy in camouflage and a balaclava comes running around the corner, blocking her escape route. Is it the same guy? Is it another one? Yasira can’t tell. The man comes toward her through the still open patio door. Without a second thought, Yasira throws the knife in her right hand. The thing is too big and, of course, she is no skilled knife thrower. It’s more an act of desperation and she knows it. But luck seems to be on her side. The knife hits him in the shoulder. Unfortunately, it doesn’t penetrate deeply. Nevertheless, the man screams out.
“You fucking bitch!” he roars.
He pulls the knife out of his shoulder. Yasira seizes the opportunity and kicks him in the stomach. Right after that, she swings the knife in her left hand at the hand holding the submachine gun, but the masked man sees her move coming, backs away and Yasira’s blow goes nowhere. Now I’m dead, she thinks. I didn’t seize my chance. The guy just needs to pull the trigger. But he doesn’t pull the trigger. Why not? He’s got the gun pointed at Yasira.
“Drop the knife!” he orders.
They want me alive, Yasira thinks. Why? They want me alive. Alive. Can I use that as an advantage? Yasira doesn’t drop the knife.
“What do you want from me?” she asks to buy time.
“Revenge for Lena!” the man replies.
Revenge? How so? No, no. This can’t be happening! Are these people really that crazy? She needs to tell the guy about Scarlett, maybe then he’ll... She opens her mouth but then hears a noise behind her. Immediately she is hit hard on the back of the head.
Yasira drops to the floor. Her head hurts.
“The ketamine,” says a voice.
Blurred, Yasira sees another masked man in camouflage coming toward her. He has a syringe in his hand. She tries to hit him with the knife, but a fourth man takes the weapon from her. The guy who hit her turns Yasira onto her back and presses her arms against the ground with his knees. The others help him to hold her down. She screams and tries desperately to fight back, but her opponents are too many and too strong. The man with the syringe exposes the crook of her left arm, calmly looks for a vein and sticks the needle in. It hardly hurts. It’s not the first time he’s done this, Yasira thinks, perhaps a paramedic.
Within seconds, she passes out.
THE VIDEO
Yasira wakes up to a sharp pain in her head. Her legs are cold. She hears a voice. “You really want to do it again?”
Yasira remembers the attack and keeps her eyes closed.
“Not me.” Another voice. “I can’t do it again so soon. One of you. But look at this shit. She looks dead.”
Yasira’s womb is hurting. Everything feels sore. A scream creeps up her throat, but she suppresses it.
“She must be awake. Must be aware of it. Scream. Fight back.” The same voice.
Yasira doesn’t move. Her attackers have not yet realized that she has regained consciousness. How much time has passed?
“It has to be exactly like with Lena.”
Like with Lena? Yasira is lying softly but unevenly. Her feet are naked. Her legs are naked. Her loins are naked.
“The symbology is important.”
What is it her hands feel? It’s soft and damp? Moss? Forest floor?
“He’s right.” A third voice. “If she’s not screaming, if she’s lying there like dead, then it’s not strong. Then it’s just perverted.”
The men have dragged her into the forest. Her bottom is lying on cloth. She still has her coat on. Something presses painfully into her side. A rock. A large, sharp rock. A weapon.
“Play it again.” The second voice. “What can we do better? Maybe a different angle? You’re covering her up too much.”
Yasira opens her eyes. Just a little. She peers through the lids and then immediately closes them again. What did she see? It’s night, but some kind of lamp is shining on her. Artificial light. One man is standing near her. Three men a little to the side. They are turned away from her, staring at something Yasira can’t see. Perhaps a display. They are watching her video.
“Who gets to go this time?” The third voice.
“We could draw sticks.” A fourth voice. The man near her has spoken. But not in her direction. He’s facing his companions and laughing. “Although I’d rather fuck her the way she is. I actually find that quite hot. Like Sleeping Beauty.”
