I walk quickly, ignoring the piercing ache that each step brings me. I hug myself, trying to warm up and stop the shivers, which pitilessly worsen the pain.
I wave, but none of the first three passing cars stops. My desperation and self-pity turns my tearless weeping into a wild howl. My vision is blurring, so I feel even more lost and isolated than before. I try to wave more cars down but with no success, until I run into a police car, which pulls off as soon as the cops see me.
‘Ma’am, are you all right?’ One of the policemen hurriedly gets out of the car and walks towards me. ‘What happened, ma’am? Do you need us to take you to the hospital?’
I want to reply yes, but a weird, persistent rumble plugs my ears and the darkness blinds my eyes, inflating me with unpleasant feeling…
I must have passed out. The next thing I see is an upside down newspaper folded in the back pocket of the front car seat and the sleeve of a police uniform. I am lying on the back seat with my head hanging down off it. I close my eyes again and try to focus on what they are talking about, activating all my brain cells to be able to translate from Turkish.
‘Julia Lazar. Year of birth 1983. Ukraine.’ The uniform sleeve is reading aloud from the paper in his hand.
‘There is no way we are taking her to the hospital. She is just a stoned Ukrainian hooker. Aliens department,’ the one in the driver’s seat replies.
They had found the copy of my passport in the back pocket of my jeans.
Crap. This cannot keep happening to me.
I sit up and lie back down straight away, fighting the dizziness.
‘I need help. I didn’t do anything wrong. They hijacked and raped me.’
‘Don’t even try,’ one of them interrupts me, then continues speaking Turkish, with a tiresome tone to his voice. ‘First, we do not speak English. Second, we deal with orospu[23] like you every day, and I have no desire to listen to your bullshit right now. So shut up.’
An hour later, after being fingerprinted and signing some papers I didn’t even understand, I am jailed in a cell with another five women. I know all of them speak Russian, although none of them have said a word. The only two short benches are occupied by four of them, two on each side, and the fifth one is just sitting on the floor, opposite a little smelly loo, which is separated from the cell by a short brick wall.
I go to the free space against the wall, drop myself onto the floor, and close my eyes.
55
I keep waking up. I am in so much pain that even when my exhausted body fades into a short and troubled sleep, my mind doesn’t switch off; it keeps throwing me into a mass of agony. On top of my injuries, the withdrawal symptoms are worsening. My skin is dreadfully sensitive and it feels like my blood is boiling, as if I am burning alive.
The hard, cold concrete floor makes my state deteriorate even more. Every time I move my joints, unconsciously seeking relief, it feels like they will crack into pieces.
I am dying… or I wish I would just die…that this suffering would end… not even another second…
The desperate thoughts of how good it would be if those bastards had killed me while I was still high are fucking me up completely. I can’t endure it… no more… I need some drugs… not another second! I can’t!
I get up, fighting the severe dizziness, and step to the cell bars. ‘Someone, I need help! Please… I need a doctor!’ I shout to nowhere with a hoarse voice.
It’s dark and quiet. Probably night-time now.
I hear nothing in response and try again, louder. ‘I need a doctor! Help me please!’
‘Oh just shut up!’ one of my cellmates sluggishly objects. ‘No one will come to rescue you, Princess, so stay quiet and let us sleep.’
I step back from the bars, rubbing my arms and shoulders, trying to ease the burning sensation on my skin.
‘For how long will they keep us here?’ I say to the darkness, towards the voice of the woman.
‘Nobody knows,’ she responds in the same sleepy manner. ‘We stay here until they find a place on the bus or ship to deport us. It could take a day or a week. Is it your first time?’
I don’t answer, swallowed up by an extreme desperation. I need a dose and there is no way I can get it here. The withdrawal is getting worse and worse, and I don’t know if I can take it anymore.
I go back to my place at the wall, lean against it and slowly slide down to the floor, letting the hot stream of silent tears abundantly wash my face.
I don’t know how long I sit there for, staring into the darkness, trying to talk myself through. I force myself to think the only thought that my brain is capable of accepting: that, no matter how painful it is now, it won’t go on forever. Until I pass out…
The dry cough that burns my lungs wakes me. My body is shivering. I have a fever. I don’t know if it is the withdrawal that’s mutated into some kind of cold or flu, or if I’m sick for real from lying on the cold floor for so long. I open my eyes. There is half a slice of white bread on the floor and a bottle of water next to me. I greedily eat it without looking around, ignoring the pain in my face that the chewing is causing, then close my eyes and go back to sleep.
What is happening Jul?
Are you in trouble?
I managed to call Inna. She told me a lot of things, but I didn’t believe her. She is just a jealous alky!
I am worried. It has been two weeks since your last email. And your phone is dead! Please reply to me as soon as you can.
We love you very much…
xxx
56
The doorbell rings, interrupting me from finishing my homework, which I’ve been trying to get out of the way for the last hour already. It’s the beginning of May. Summer has come early. It is hot and seductively pleasant outside. But I have a Chemistry test tomorrow and cannot understand a word I am reading in my textbook.
All that seventh-graders can think about is dating and partying. Why can’t adults simply understand that and leave dodgy things like physics and chemistry out of our curriculum?
I am alone in the apartment, so I have to get up to open the door. Lena is still at school, my father is working, and mom and Natalia are away in Istanbul.
‘Hey, Jul, is Lena home?’ It’s Serega with his friend.
‘No, she is at school still, should be home soon,’ I answer, trying to sound cool, but feeling shy: I’ve been caught in my old home dress by two eleventh-graders, even though one of them is my sister’s boyfriend.
‘Can we wait inside?’ Serega’s friend jumps in. I think his name is Pasha.
‘Sure. Can I get you some iced water? It’s really hot today.’ As we walk into the kitchen, Pasha hugs me from behind and jokingly exclaims, ‘Uff… what a pretty sister Lena’s got. Maybe I should date you. What do you think, Jul?’
They grin as I try, blushing, to pull my dress back down, which has ridden up from Pasha’s unexpected grab.
‘What are you up to? Studying?’ Serega asks, while winking at his friend. ‘You know, Pasha is an outstanding student in our class. He could teach you a lot of things.’
They grin again, looking at each other, and I realise that they are making fun of me.
‘Okay, I really have to study. I have a Chemistry test tomorrow.’
‘Oh, Chemistry?’ Pasha interrupts me and they laugh again. ‘That’s my favourite.’ He moves closer to me and hugs me again, this time from the front, pressing his crotch against me.