They become brainless puppets, objects in the hands of their masters executing every single request without objection. In return, they received good food. The elegant Mr. Stanislaw reappeared. (Throughout the whole training period, he had been absent.) The beating and raping ceased. They were simply happy that they were alive again.
After two days of rest, the "normal job" began. They sat together in the parlor room, where they waited for customers to come from the restaurant to choose the girls they wanted, then disappear with them behind the doors of their bedrooms.
Actually, after the training they had gone through, this treatment was not even so terrible. It could be said that they were getting used to it. Now, they were allowed to leave their rooms, but only to go to the parlor, where they ate their meals delivered them from the kitchen. The passage down to the ground floor was guarded day and night by one of the skinheads. Mr. Stanislaw explained to the girls that it was only for their own good, because since they crossed the border illegally, the authorities should not know about their presence in the country. If they were caught, they would immediately end up in jail.
They worked so from the beginning of the summer. Some evenings, it was a lot of work. Sometimes, especially at the beginning of the week, there were few customers only and they could relax. So far, they didn’t receive any money; Mr. Stanislaw told them that their money would be safer with him, locked up in his safe. They didn’t need it anyway. They received everything they needed, even nice clothes, and at the end of the contract, that is, a year from now, each of them would receive what she earned, right on her hand, so they could enjoy it to their heart’s content because it was going to be a lot of money.
The girls tried to enjoy, but somehow, it did not really work this way. From time to time, when there was less work and more time to think, one of them revolted, tried to escape. But each time, it failed, and after such an attempt, the girl had to go through ‘training’ again. The others, locked up in their rooms, heard the impact of the rolled towel and the quiet whining of the one being punished, and each of them was grateful that it was not her turn.
Nadia rebelled more frequently than the others. Something was left at the bottom of her heart. Some sparkle was still burning in her. It didn’t let her fall into complete enslavement, waking her up from time to time and urging her to try again and again, each time with new hope that this time she would succeed. After three ‘training’ sessions, she tried to run for the fourth time and she was told that it was enough. If she tried another time, they would take care of her for real.
None of the girls knew what that really meant. But she tried and failed yet again.
At night, the two worst skinheads, Onuca and Bula, woke her up, dragged her in her pajamas and took her down to the car. She sat in the backseat, Bula sitting next to her. The most terrible part was that he held a garden spade between his knees. She understood that this was the end of her. That's why they didn’t beat her any more. They just lost their last hope that they could still make a good girl out of her. They stopped the car on a secluded road outside the city and entered the forest, probably looking for a place where they could get rid of her without a trace. Finally, the car stopped. Bula pulled her out and together with Onuca, led her into the trees. Then, they raped her one last time. She defended herself desperately, without success, of course. Then Onuca gave her a spade and told her to dig. She was not able to keep it in her hands. Bula grabbed a shovel and began to dig himself, throwing a sinister look at her from time to time. She fainted in fear. They woke her up with a few blows to her face. Bula continued digging, cursing the roots, he encountered in the ground. Then she started to beg for mercy, swearing that she would never again try to escape, saying that she wanted to live.
They looked at her from time to time, saying nothing. Finally, Onuca stubbed out his cigarette and nodded to Bula, who, with a sigh of relief, stopped digging the grave. “Well, well, ” said Onuca. “We'll let you go again, this time, but remember, this is the last one. The very last time. If some foolishness will come to your head again, you’ll find yourself here." He pointed at Bula’s unfinished job. “This hole is waiting for you.” She nodded, resigned, but so happy that she would still live. After all, it was the most important.
Because she had no strength to go, they grabbed her under her arms and dragged her to the car, then threw her into the back seat as if she was a piece of rag. She heard the spade land in the trunk. They both sat in the front and the car moved along a forest path, first slowly, then faster and faster. As it did, something dawned on her; something began to bother her, a subconscious thought. She realized suddenly that she had not heard the sound of the door locking. They had not taken the trouble. After all, she was already half-dead from exhaustion and fear. She tried to move her legs. They worked. Her hands also moved.
She realized that it was her last chance. She must try again. She pulled the door handle as hard as she could and pushed the door out. It opened. From that moment, everything started to happen in slow motion: She threw herself outside, head first, falling onto the road, where she rolled over several times, not feeling or seeing anything. Then, she ran somewhere in panic, stumbling over the stones and roots of the trees, tripped, and then ran again. Somewhere behind her, she heard the sharp squeal of tires on the asphalt, then some screams, curses, which gradually faded away, remaining in the rear. She dragged herself back to the road - she wasn’t even sure if this was the same road - and collapsed, completely helpless. It was at that moment that Byniek came. As for what happened next, he already knew what it was.
Byniek listened to the story as if paralyzed. For some time, he ceased to speak, move. Even breathing had slipped his mind. He could not understand that something like this could happen in this country. Worse, it had happened here, just somewhere outside this city. Could people really forget that they were human beings? Or maybe they were not people, but some evil beasts clothed in human skins.
Nadia finished talking and for the first time since she started her story, looked him straight in the eyes, as if to confirm that it was all true, although it seemed impossible to believe. What could he say to her? That he believed her? That he understood? That he sympathized with her? All the words seemed inadequate, pointless, and unnecessary. It was better to remain silent.
Looking into each other’s eyes, Byniek felt then that something was occurring between him and the girl, something elusive and delicate as a gossamer thread. He cleared his throat and swallowed with difficulty.
"Would you like some more coffee?" he asked, his voice sounding strange to his ears. He had no desire for coffee, but felt that he must say something.
Nadia silently nodded. Byniek went to the kitchen to prepare more coffee. Somewhere, his mother kept a cardboard box with the medicine. He found it in one of the kitchen cabinets. The scratches on Nadia’s arms and legs had to be disinfected. He should have thought of that yesterday. One of the vials caught his attention. The name of the medication reminded him of something. Oh yes, he remembered. His mother said once that the doctor had prescribed her a very strong sedative. She was not allowed to take more than one pill at a time. Apparently, it acted quickly. Byniek, after a brief moment of thought, slipped it into his pants pocket. The girl was still in shock. One never knows what might come to her mind. He carried into the room, two cups with hot, steaming coffee and also, the box with medications.
After drinking the coffee, he took out of the box some cotton and the bottle of salicylic alcohol. Thankfully, the cuts on Nadia’s turned out to be not very serious.
She jumped nervously at first when he touched her, but quickly calmed down, helping him to treat her wounds while watching him all the time. "Why is she looking at me this way?" Byniek asked himself. It made him a little bit confused, but noted soon that it made him also feel a certain pleasure, even more than pleasure. He began to like it a lot.
“You are safe here,” he told her. “No one knows you're here and no o
ne will ever know. You can stay here as long as you wish. Finally, they will stop looking for you. Then, we have to think of how to send you back home.”
“I can’t go back now, ” she said quickly. “Not so soon, at least.”
He looked at her, amazed. She had already run away. What more did she want?
She explained that she must free her friends first. Until it was done, she had no intention to leave. And those thugs must be punished. Otherwise, they would just find other girls to replace them. "Of course," thought Byniek. He would have done the same in such a situation. It would be cruel, unacceptable if she thought only of herself. “You're right,” he said.
He had to do something, and fast. But what? Local authorities possibly know what's going on. They probably take the bribe for closing their eyes. There is plenty in the newspapers about corruption in the administration. What to do? Wait for police reform? It will take too long. If we leave the girls under the “care” of those bastards any longer, it would be cruel. Or maybe, we can talk to the young lieutenant. He seemed friendly. Maybe he is already "reformed"? Anyway, he must not act rashly. It could have dire consequences.
“We have to wait until tomorrow, ” he said. “We need to think carefully about it all. We have to be very careful.”
Nadia worried a lot, especially about her friend, Vera. She was very fragile now. If she found out Nadia did not return to the "resort", Vera could do something terrible in despair. Oh, she hoped Vera could stay strong a few days more. Maybe something could be done soon. Surely, something must be done.
***
In the morning, the first person that showed up in Browarek was Zaba as usual.
“Boss, you wouldn’t like to have a little of… you know what I mean...?”
“What?” Byniek could not understand him.
“You know. This... ” Zaba joined together his left thumb and forefinger and in the created circle, inserted his right forefinger. Then, he vigorously moved it back and forth, showing exactly what "this" meant.
“Sure” Byniek replied. “Everyone wants a little of that...”
“Well, I only said because you know, to Marycha, they recently brought some ladies. You can do them quite inexpensively. Well, I thought that maybe you do not know, but you have to hurry.”
“And why is that?”
“Because they brought only four, and the clients are so many that probably they will not be around for long. They will get fucked to death soon. You know, it is the first brothel around and the only one. Last night, someone told me that one of the girls already had disappeared. And she was the prettiest one.”
Byniek was tempted to carve out this stupid head of Zaba, but he stopped. This old donkey had not done anything wrong. He had nothing to do with it. He was only saying what he had heard.
The hours seemed longer today than usual, and as Browarek had a lot of customers, Byniek had no time to think about his strategy. He was, after all, alone. Mariusz was on vacation and he simply had so much to do. He could barely wait for the day to end. He got rid of the last guests almost by force and with relief, turned the cardboard plate on the door to "Closed".
After that, Byniek started to arrange the beer glasses on the shelves behind the counter in a hurry, but he had barely started when he heard the front door open and then shut with a loud bang.
“Closed for today, ” he said angrily over his shoulder, then turned towards the door. Bula and Onuca were standing before him with mocking smiles on their nasty mouths.
“Maybe closed for customers, but surely not for old friends such as we are,” chortled Onuca.
“What do you want?” snarled Byniek. “Recently, you took away everything from me.”
“Easy, grandpa. Relax. Maybe you’ve managed to collect something since then. Surely by now, you’ve decided to agree to the proposal of our boss. Otherwise, you’ll have to jump out of the box.”
Byniek put his hands in his trouser pockets so as not to show them that they had clenched instinctively into fists. Then, he felt in one of them a small, plastic vial. Something dawned on him. “Well, well,” he said amicably. “How much is this boss of yours asking again for protection?”
Now, both smiled kindly. Onuca sat down at the table, pushing a chair with his leg. Bula did exactly the same.
“Bring a large brew, grandfather and we’ll talk” said Onuca. “I was sure you’d finally wise up.
Byniek went back behind the counter, while his right hand worked quickly in his pocket. He grabbed two large mugs from the shelf and standing with his back to the room, dropped in each two white pills. Then he turned around again, put the mugs under the taps and slowly, very slowly, began to pour into them the bright, foaming liquid.
"Will it dissolve those pills?" he thought frantically. They had to be dissolved. To his relief, the pellets dissolved quickly, each of them producing thin streams of bubbles traveling to the surface. Byniek raked the excess foam with a wooden spatula and completed each pint several times in order to gain as much time as possible. They both watched him with satisfaction. They seemed to like the amount of effort he put into the task. He brought the beer to the table and placed before each of them a full pint. With relief, he noted that the pellets had dissolved almost completely inside.
They drunk with confident faces, happy even, their ugly eyes watching him kindly. They even let him sit at their table for a business discussion, though they did not make the offer to have a drink with them. No. Kindness to them was a luxury. They did offer him, however, quite a decent monthly rate for protection.
“Oh, it's not as expensive as I thought” he showed polite wonderment.
“Of course. We are an honest company, after all, ” explained Onuca. “We never steal from our clients. Privacy is guaranteed and no one around will touch you. If someone tried, we will have to deal with him personally.” They had already drank half a pint and Byniek was beginning to doubt the effectiveness of the medication (maybe it was too old or maybe two pills was not enough) a when he finally noticed them begin to yawn.
“One more brew for you?” suggested he. “So on the other foot?”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” they graciously agreed.
Byniek went back to the bar.
"What do I do?" he thought frantically. "Yet another pellet for each of them? Or better, maybe two more each? And what if they die on the spot? What if their hearts will not take it?” Taking new mugs from the shelf, he glanced back at the table.
Both skinheads lay on the surface of the wooden table evenly, like two ostrich eggs in the desert.
Byniek returned to the table and tried to wake them up by shaking their shoulders. Unique mumbled something, two or three incomprehensible words, then drifted into a deep sleep. Bula did not even try to move.
Suddenly, Byniek fell into an indescribable panic.
"What am I going to do with them now?" thought he, terrified. "What have I done?”
His previous plans included performing on them the most brutal torture like burning their feet with a torch or cutting their fingers with a blunt saw, but those somehow faded away. Could he maybe drag them out and leave them in the bushes? But when they woke up and remembered what happened, their revenge would be terrible. This was sure. What to do then?
Finally, he decided to drag them one by one in the cellar. The task took him a lot of energy. He laid them down next to each other on the ground, and then he cut up a long electrical extension cord into four parts to tie their hands and feet carefully. That way, they would not have a chance to escape after waking up. He also tied their mouths with two pieces of towel, turned out the lights in the cellar and carefully closed the door. After returning to the ground floor, he thoroughly washed the two mugs that were on the table and took their car keys lying there. He was seized by a sudden anxiety. "What if there is a third one waiting in the car? What was that they called him again? Pacan or something like this?” He shook his head. “Impossible
. If there was someone else, they would not have had those keys with them".
He stubbed out the light in the bar and went cautiously outside. The car of the hooligans was parked a bit further. Cautious guys. In this case, it acted in his favor. Byniek escorted the car to a safe distance from his bar and left it in a secluded street. It would take time before it caught someone’s attention. Then he went back to his Cinquecento and avoiding lit places, returned home, trying on the way to calm down his rickety nerves. Luckily, Nadia was asleep. He carefully covered her with a blanket and for a long time, watched her delicate face. Hatred for those two returned rapidly to his heart. Suddenly, he wanted to return to the cellar and take good care of them. However, he went to sleep trying to control his furious feelings. He would see what would happen tomorrow. This evening, he was unable to make any decision.
***
The next day, Byniek opened the front door of Browarek, plagued by so much anxiety that for a long time, he had difficulty finding the keyhole in the door.
"Maybe it all's not true?" he thought hopefully. "Maybe it was just some damn stupid dream?" He went down to the cellar on legs made of wool. No, it was not a dream. The two men lay on the threshing floor, but in different positions than they were left in yesterday. It was obvious that they were trying to break free.
When they saw him, their eyes bulged with rage. He saw just hatred in them.
Byniek leaned against the wall and watched them for a moment, deep in thought.
“I would like to announce something to you,” he said finally in a serious tone. “That I consider yesterday's agreement broken. You probably want to know why that is. I’ll tell you. Because contracts with such dicks like you does not matter. Such slow worms do not deserve a contract. They do not even deserve to be negotiated with.” He noticed at this moment that they had both gone still. In addition, they had wet trousers, and in the air hovered the stench of urine. “What, pissing from fear?” He could not deny his satisfaction. “Bullies such as you? Yet to assault the defenseless with a baseball bat, you are not afraid. And when you raped innocent girls, did you show fear? Well, piss as you wish. That’s your business. This dirt here will absorb a lot.