Beginnings

Beginnings

Shadows flit over a blank page, the creaminess almost blinding in the light starved room. Nervous hands clutch a simple pen and eyes dart to the window. The night sky, dotted with stars, beautiful as it is, offers no answers, except, a world of darkness... A hesitant smile appears as breath rushes through pursed lips. The pen is raised and the first etchings emerge, expand and grow until the creaminess is marred with words and smudges snaking across its expanse. The night passes and word after word flows from the mind and through the pen, unstoppable and continuous. The outpouring of a life and the release of emotions locked in the past see nothing of the lightening sky. A final word and a full stop, the pen falls from stiff fingers. Eyes once more glance to the window and are surprised to see the glowing streaks of a new day, a new beginning. A body relaxes as the shackles of the past slowly drop away and a load eases slightly. Suddenly the future looks brighter. The story is told, perhaps now it can be left behind...         

It’s a world of darkness, of inky black shadows. No shades of grey exist there, everything is just wrong. People change hands as easily as money, identities disappear and souls are destroyed. You’re just another body to be used for the pleasure of others, night after night, hour after hour. You’re a tool, an object to be owned and dominated, cooperation is coerced, choice is forcibly taken. There are three types of people who inhabit this world: dealers, clients and casualties. The dealers grow rich and fat on the gains, the clients walk away satisfied, nervously concealing their smutty inclinations, and the casualties? They live an eternal nightmare in which they’re forced to perform, compete and sell to stay alive. From the time she was eleven that was the world Ada Antonescu inhabited. It made up her mornings, and her nights, until memories of anything different had faded into obscure glimmers. The nightmare started in 2000, the night her mother sold her into slavery. That was seven years ago...

The night had fallen cold and bitter. Strong gusts of wind wormed their way into bodies sleeping close to fires. Only two braved the frozen wasteland of the Romanian winter’s night and the freshly falling snow. Their feet crunched loudly and they clutched their thin, worn clothing close.  It was a dead zone, the perfect night for lives to be shattered and dreams abandoned. The only witnesses to their passing were the empty streets of Bucharest.
‘Ada, keep up,’ the mother whispered coldly.
‘But Mama, I’m freezing.’
‘Just come,’ she snapped, unable to look Ada in the eye. They walked in silence, their breath fogging around their faces like heavy chain smokers. Nearing a shadowed street, the mother paused for just a moment, muttering under her breath,
‘It’s in her blood, it’s necessary.’ She turned into the narrow opening and knocked a soft pattern on a non-descript door. It opened revealing a young blonde woman who ushered them quickly inside.
‘You’re late.’
‘It couldn’t be helped. Do you have the cash?’
         ‘Yes. And you have the girl.’ Unable to comprehend what was happening Ada leant into her mother’s side. Anaya glanced down her eyes emotionless; slowly she pulled away.
‘This is Elisabeta…Your real mother; you’ll go with her to her home.’ Ada had always known that she was different, But she’d only found out why her mother hated her a few months ago. Ada was the daughter of a street whore. Anaya had never forgiven her husband for the indiscretion or Ada for the inconvenience of another woman’s child. She expressed her displeasure with blows and harsh words.   
‘But my home is here, I can’t go with her.’
‘You have to. You want your brothers and sisters to be happy don’t you?’
‘Yes, but...’
‘This will make them happy; everything will be easier.’
‘Don’t they want me anymore?’ She asked softly, her small voice cracking.
‘You’ll be a good girl, and go with Elisabeta. You will see us again one day,’ Anaya lied, easily.
‘But...’
‘That’s enough. You’re going with her.’ Ada’s eyes shone, but she knew better than to argue with Anaya. The rustling of notes changing hands was the last Ada saw of Anaya. There were no kind words, no goodbye. It was the end of life as she knew it.

Elisabeta looked down at the child standing in the middle of the shabby room. She was pretty, obedient.  Good. That would make her easier to break. She smiled cruelly Ada would wake up to the nightmare of her future soon.
‘Ada?’ the child looked up, hope kindling in her eyes. ‘You can sleep over there. We leave at dawn.’ Elisabeta turned away, but not before she saw Ada’s face fall. Pausing she felt a moment’s empathy, reminding her of her own story: then, just as quickly shrugged it off. It wouldn’t do to feel anything for the brat, the world was a cruel place. Sitting by the small fire, Elisabeta waited for dawn. Unwillingly her mind was drawn back to the night her own life changed, many years ago…

Bucharest, December 21, 1989
The sound of tanks and gun fire echoed through the crowed streets. People were shouting out against the leader –‘Ceauşescu cine eşti? Criminal din Scorniceşti’-Ceauşescu, who are you? A murderer from Scorniceşti.’- The military tried to reclaim order, shooting into unruly crowds leaving some dead and many injured.
The nine year old Elisabeta lurked in the shadowed entrance of an alleyway on one of the quieter streets, her precious few coins clutched to her chest. Yaakov would be furious. Though he was only a few years older; he was the leader of their small ring. Everyday she went onto the streets, dodging kicks and spit to beg for coin. Competition was rife, with more and more taking to the streets, as survival became harder and uncertain. At the end of each night she made her way back and hand over the coin to Yaakov. If she was lucky there would be food; if not she would starve, but that was nothing new.
A loud barking laugh attracted her attention. The small companion of the perpetrator grimaced at the sound before nodding vigorously and slipping away. She watched as he drew closer. Fat equalled rich. Sticking out her hand she quickly said,
         ‘Please sir, have you any spare coins?’ Her hand shook with need. He looked down at her and smiled, his eyes cruel and mouth hard.
         ‘I might do child. What will you do in return for the coin?’
         ‘I don’t know what I could do for you sir, I’m naught but a street beggar,’ she stammered nervously, hand still held out.
         ‘Well why don’t we take a walk down this street,’ he suggested motioning to the alley’s opening, ‘You’re a pretty girl, I’m sure I can spare some Leu for you.’ She gladly followed him, the lure of notes irresistible. She’d never bought home notes before. Yaakov would be pleased.
Elisabeta failed to notice the greedy gleam in his eyes or the insinuating thread in his voice. In the next few hours no one heard her screams or if they did they knew better than to aide them. A week later she found herself, locked in a tiny windowless room in the middle of Berlin, filled with children of all ages.
         ‘You’ll never escape,’ the oldest told her when Elisabeta asked what would happen to her. ‘You know what a whore is don’t ya? Well that’s what ya are now, and what ya’ll stay till they decide ya too old an’ kill ya...’

But the silly bitch had been wrong. They hadn’t killed her. She’d worked harder, played more and performed better than the others. And now…Now she ran her own profitable organisation. Money was her driving force. Elisabeta effortlessly turned her mind to the money she could get her newest recruits. Clients were asking for whores of a younger age, and she just lived to satisfy.

Ada clutched papers to her body, her new clothes hanging off her small frame. Three other children were with them. ‘My other children’ Elisabeta told her offhandedly, when they collected them. They didn’t look at Ada. They didn’t look at anything. The little boy was limping. When Ada asked why, he turned away and kept walking.
‘Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t leave my side and everything will be just fine. Your name is Annika Wolf. I am your mother and this is your brother Lutz and your sister Ivonne. We travel back home to Berlin after visiting your aunt in Bucharest. That’s all you need to know,’ Elisabeta quickly explained to her.
‘But why?’ Elisabeta’s hand was fast and stinging.
         ‘It’s not your place to question why.’ Ada kept silent after that. Anaya had taught her to respect and fear pain. They boarded the train with no problems and shared a carriage with another woman and three other children. They travelled to Munich, then boarded a bus and finally arrived in Berlin two weeks later.
It was dark. In her exhaustion everything was hazy. They were loaded into another car, a violent looking man sat behind the wheel. The silent drive through the city was slow and tedious, the adults edgy. They stopped behind a loud bar and were quickly ushered inside the building next to it and down a narrow flight of stairs. Walking down the darkened passageway, loud cries, some bordering on screams, came from behind the closed doors surrounding them.
One swung open and a man stepped out tightening his tie. He muttered a quick greeting to Elisabeta, barely glancing at Ada and the other children, before heading off. As they continued past, Ada hastily glanced into the room, only to find she couldn’t move. A naked woman lay chained to the bed, her eyes squeezed shut and breathing laboured. Smears of red decorated her slim body, bruises already appearing in places. Elisabeta pulled the door shut with a resounding click, cutting off the disturbing view.
         The large room they entered was filled with narrow bunk beds. They were led to three sets in a corner.
         ‘You will sleep here. There’s food in the morning. You training stars tomorrow.’ Elisabeta left the room, the light following her as the closing door left them in darkness. The other children scrambled into bed eager for sleep. Ada sat in the middle of hers, thinking of what she had seen. A sickening feeling clenched her stomach. Was that the fate that awaited her?
         ‘If I were you I would sleep while you can, cause this will be your last night without someone in your bed wanting things you don’t want to give.’ The girl she travelled with turned away, promptly falling asleep, her words lending a grain of terrifying truth to Ada’s suspicions.
         ‘What’s going to happen to me?’ she sighed.
         ‘Does anyone know the answer to that?’ said a voice in Romanian, from the bed next her causing Ada to jump.
         ‘What do you mean?’ she asked moving closer to the voice.
         ‘I’m Mikhail,’ he murmured as she sat down next to him.
         ‘Ada.’ She replied, straining her eyes to see him in the darkness.
         ‘This place is a bar,’ he explained, ‘but this building is connected and they use it as a brothel. There’s mainly women and a few men here and now with you lot, there’s ‘bout ten children. The youngest is eight, I’m fourteen. You?’
‘Eleven.’
‘Usually they pass us off as the workers’ children to avoids awkward questions.’
‘How did you get here?’ she questioned.
‘They picked me up three years ago after I made the mistake of trying to pickpocket Elisabeta at Gara de Nord-main train station, I came here with the three other kids;’
         ‘Who is Elisabeta?’
         ‘Elisabeta is the Madam; she deals with clients and their money. How did you get here?’
         ‘I was in Romania a few weeks ago,’ she said disbelievingly. ‘One night my mother took me to Elisabeta, saying she was my real mother. I don’t think my family wants me anymore.’ The enormity of Anaya’s actions started to sink in. Mikhail peered at Ada through the shadows. Most of the kids had no family to look for them, to miss them, too many complications. If her mother sold her, chances were the rest of the family was in agreement.
         ‘Do you think the rest of your family knows what she did?’
         ‘I don’t think so,’ she said uncertainly.
         ‘Well they might look for you,’ he said trying to comfort her. She smiled, even though he probably couldn’t see it.
         ‘Maybe,’ she paused tentatively, ‘What’s going to happen to me?’
For a long while Mikhail didn’t speak, unsure of how to break the truth of the life that awaited her. In the end he was saved from answering.
         ‘It’s in her blood...’ The meaning of that muttered statement became clear, ‘Anaya sold me to be a whore, just like my real mother,’ she murmured her voice breaking. His silence was answer enough.
They spent the next few hours talking softly before they eventually drifted to sleep. He told of the times he’d tried to escape and how each time he’d been dragged back. He told her all about Elisabeta’s, tried to prepare her for the worst of it. But he knew that nothing really could prepare her for the horror of what she would be forced to do and to accept. It would be just that little bit worse for Ada. She had a family. And they had another tool to coerce her, to control her. He looked at her through the shadows; her head was bent, resting on her knees, she looked so small, alone. Impulsively he took her hand and quietly whispered,
         ‘I’ll be your friend.’ Ada looked at their joined hands, then up at his face.   

In the days that followed Ada existed in a hell worse than she could ever have imagined. Early each morning, after a simple breakfast, she and the other five newcomers were taken to a room and taught everything about pleasuring the type of clients that favoured them. They were forced to have sex with at least two of the trainers a day and any disobedience was rewarded with beatings.
As the weeks went by Ada quickly grew up, any memories of happiness she’d had in her short life, slowly faded; along with her emotions.
Then it arrived. Her small fragile body was beyond aching, the multitude of painful penetrations she’d been subjected to, numbed her body and mind. She glanced at the chain around her ankles that fasten her to bed; they’d put it on when she’d tried to run. The door opened and her head reeled with the drugs they’d fed her. Ada’s entire body started shaking when the fat, florid merchant strutted over and whispered, ‘Fancy a Fuck?’
Four more men had come and gone before she was released. Mikhail’s stories of distraction started that night, soon becoming their reality, anchor and sanity. Life continued that way for four years...

Mikhail laid back on the lumpy mattress and smiled. It wouldn’t be long now. Three months ago he’d met a man called Detective Viktor Kortig and everything had changed, they would be out soon... Thinking of Ada he frowned. She should have been back ages ago. He’d told her of the meeting and she was as excited as he. Concerned he rose silently and slipped out of the room in search of his friend.
Mikhail didn’t have to search for long; she walked out of one of the rooms along the hall, a bleak look on her face as she headed towards him.
         ‘She’s selling me Misha,’ she said using the affectionate form of his name. His face broke and his insides clutched.
         ‘But we’re so close.’
         ‘I know. I don’t think there’s anything we can do; I don’t know his name. All I know is he’s German.’ A door swung open and Elisabeta strode out, her smile full of satisfaction, closely followed by a tall, greying man with cold blue eyes. Mikhail paled as he watched the man. He had seen him around, but knew little of him. Those he’d asked only knew he wasn’t the gentle sort; some of the women he’d used had been useless for days.
         ‘Ada it’s time to go,’ Elisabeta smiled greedily. With one last look at Mikhail, Ada followed her new owner to the back exit, her small bag of worthless possessions clutched in her hands. Elisabeta slid her hand into his hair, jerking his head back.
         ‘You’ll never see her again. My poor little Mikhail. Don’t worry so. Mr. Vogel takes wonderful care of his guests. They are only carried out in body bags on occasion.’
He truly hated this woman. The sad part was she used to be exactly like him and all the others forced into prostitution. Then she got greedy and forgot what the life was like, what it did to people. In certain circles renowned for their ruthlessness, she eclipsed them all. Her twisted desires had ruined more than one. Mikhail gritted his teeth as she led him to a vacant room. He would likely be worthless for the next few days. Then he smiled. Vogel. He had a name.

A few days later Elisabeta glared at the man across the table.
‘Miss Kazakova, tell us where this Mr Vogel lives.’
‘I’m sorry, I just don’t know who you’re talking about,’ she replied blithely, lighting a cigarette. 
‘Don’t play games. You already have the best deal you’re going to get, but that will be rescinded if you do not tell us what you know.’ She remained silent for a moment before standing and walking round to him. Elisabeta leaned in close letting him get an eyeful of her generous breasts; she put a soft hand high on his thigh and blew smoke softly across his face,
‘Maybe you could do something to sweeten the deal and then I might remember,’ she breathed suggestively.
‘Miss Kazakova, sit down before you get yourself into more trouble than you’re already in.’ Pouting she sauntered back to her seat.
‘He lives in Berlin but I don’t know where. I don’t even know his first name. All I know is he’s rich; he paid for the best and didn’t mind compensating us for any lost profit. That’s it.’ Viktor stared down at her for a short moment before leaving the interrogation room, disgust reflected in his eyes.
‘I’m sorry Misha. We have people on it. But…’
‘I know Viktor, we will find her.’ They shook hands and Mikhail left the station.
It took a year, an anonymous tip off and a lot of string pulling, but they did find her.

Ada eased her self back on the narrow bed her breath hissing with pain. Luitger Vogel, her owner’s sessions were getting more violent, she honestly didn’t know how much longer she would survive.
‘At least he didn’t  break any bones this time,’ she muttered to the unresponsive wall. Escape was useless. Three times she’d made it to the front door, only to be pulled back at the last moment, dragged back down to the soundproof basement and beaten within an inch of her life.
During the day, she would lay on the bed, ignoring the chaffing of the chain around her ankle, the stabbing hunger pains in her stomach and the heaviness of her eyes. Her sleep was in no way restful, filled with nightmares that didn’t go away when she woke up. With the help of Sorina the new maid from the Czech Republic, her evenings were filled with preparations for his coming.
Ada smiled a rare smile. Over the past few weeks, she and Sorina had become friends, the language barrier overcome with hand actions and simple German. The smile faded and she closed her eyes, shutting out the blank, lifeless wall. Her mind drifted through memories, of Misha, Elisabeta and finally of her family. So much pain and heartbreak…The tumble of locks was the only warning she got before the heavy door swung open its hinges squeaking softly. Ada tensed, why was he back? She held herself as still as possible and tried to keep her breathing level, even so she still flinched when a surprisingly gentle hand descended upon her shoulder.
         ‘Are you Ada Antonescu?’ a strange rough voice questioned. Warily she turned to face the man, his smile was kind and his eyes held a glimmer of hope. Frowning she asked, ‘Who are you.’
‘Detective Viktor Kortig, I’m a friend of Mikhail.’ Slowly she sat up.
‘Mikhail? Yes,’ she said remembering the name, ‘Thankyou for getting him out.’
‘We are only sorry it took so long to find you,’ he smiled down at her, ‘Are you able to walk?’
‘I can manage,’ she replied, as a joyful Sorina unlocked her ankle chain.
‘Is Sorina coming with us?’ she asked as they slowly made their way through the house. He looked surprised at the question.
‘He doesn’t pay her. He is violent and ruthless, and you can’t let her stay here.’
‘I’m sorry that this couldn’t have happened earlier. This is Detective Katarina Schulze. She’s been working undercover. Luitger Vogel has long been suspected of illicit activities.’ Ada was astonished. She looked at Sorina...Katarina, seeing her in a new light, the strength in her posture and the determination in her gaze.
‘Es tut mir leid,’-I’m sorry- Katarina said in perfect German.  Smiling Ada quickly forgave her.
The front door loomed in front of them. Ada paused, pulling her blanket closer around her. She slowly ran her hand over the smooth dark wood. Her fingers clutched the handle and pushed.
The street lights glowed, sirens flashed, a multitude of uniformed people moved purposefully about. Near by, paramedics were checking over two bruised women. So she hadn’t been the only one after all, Ada thought sadly. Taking a deep breath she stepped over the threshold. She was out. Ada tilted her head upwards, feeling the wind brush over her face, something she hadn’t felt in twelve long months. Her eyes that had remained dry for seven years, moistened slightly. She let them drift close and just breathed, letting the emotions well up inside. She was so caught up in the simple freedom of feeling that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.
‘Is she okay?’ Mikhail quietly asked Viktor.
‘She’s sore and bruised and has who knows how many injuries. But she cared enough to make sure Katarina was coming with us. So I think with time she will get better. She will need the support and love of people who care for her; it will be a long and rough road. You of all people know that.’ 

Slanted eyes caressed the final sentences…a rough road. How true that was. The passing of time had slowly worn down sharp, piercing barbs of the past, but they lurked, silent and paralysing. The reconnecting of loved ones, thought forever lost, provided immense and undemanding comfort. Trials and imprisonment, then finally death had gone a long way to smoothing the road and allowing the miracle of new life into her world.
Her eyes left the page and landed on a framed photograph. A man, two little girls and a baby boy, lips curved, her reason for life was captured in that moment. The reason she’d agreed to write this, in the hope that just maybe the three children could grow up without ever having to experience life as she had.
Her mind turned to the very beginning…Anaya’s death had been a long and lonely one, wit her mind firmly entrenched in the fetters of guilt that not even confession could release.
Her mind stopped when she saw his face in her mind. Misha, her angel, his continuous presence had got her through the days and nights with her sanity intact.
‘Everyone deserves an angel,’ she whispered into the slowly lightening room. He was hers. She picked up her pen once more this time her hand firm and wrote three last words.

To My Angel