Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“She’s going to be fine,” Dad says to Mom, who has a somewhat guilty expression on her face. Then, he turns to me, cool calm and collected. “We visited a fine orphanage while in Azerbaijan this summer. We gave them a ring this morning and they said they’ll gladly take the baby off our hands. So this is the plan: you’ll stay with your aunt and uncle in St. Petersburg for the entirety of your pregnancy. Once you’ve delivered the child, we will arrange for you to return to Iowa, without the baby of course. We’ll tell your school that you’re taking a year abroad and finishing your diploma remotely. No one will ever learn of this. And in a short year’s time, we can safely put this all behind us. This is in your best interests, and you’ll thank us later for saving you from making an enormous mistake.”
I can’t do anything but cry. I try screaming again, but it’s impossible with the gag in my mouth. My entire body feels weak. If the bodyguards weren’t holding me up, I would surely topple over because my grief is immense. My parents are betraying me. They’re forcibly shipping me off to some godawful place so that I can give birth in secret, like I’m a pariah.
Not to mention, Jordan won’t even know what happened. I have no way to tell him, and I’m sure my parents will come up with some lame excuse to explain my absence.
Worst of all, they’re going to deprive me of my child. Mark and Susan are going to give their own grandchild away, and why? What have I done that’s so awful? It’s true that I’m not married, but that’s hardly a crime. Lots of girls give birth as single mothers, so why are Mark and Susan acting like this is the 1700’s?
A great wave of despair washes over me. I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, I’ve gone from daughter to mother to prisoner. And my parents are the culprits, to make things that much worse.
Crying into the gag, the goons manhandle me into the garage. There’s a van inside with the back doors open and my old mattress, stripped of all the bedding, is thrown inside. Like a pig hog-tied and on its way to slaughter, I am carelessly tossed in the back of the van. The large steel doors slam shut behind me, closing off my world as I once knew it.
I desperately hope that Jordan might get a glimpse of the van and realize what’s going on because I need a miracle. But it’s four in the morning now, and no one is around to witness my capture. Even if there are people out and about, it doesn’t matter. The back of the van is windowless, so no one would see me anyways.
I lie on the mattress helplessly and stare at Asgar and Hazi in disgust. I’ve always had a bad sense about these guys. They’ve always seemed shady, even from the beginning.
Yet they’ve known me for so long. They’ve worked for my dad for years. How could they possibly go through with this?
I feel sick to my stomach at the onset of this thought.
Asgar and Hazi are discussing something in our native language. I don’t know what they’re saying, but it seems to be a very serious matter. Hazi makes a brief phone call, and then smiles and nods at Asgar.
“Do you want to tell her, or should I?” Asgar says almost playfully, now speaking in English as to allow me to understand.
Hazi chuckles.
“How about you tell her the truth about her papa, and then I get to tell her about the change of plans?” The goon is so excited that the air is whistling between his teeth. He’s practically boiling with the pleasure he gets from this job. I can already see him beginning to bounce up and down in anticipation while he waits for Asgar to start the story. If he gets any more excited, he’s going to start foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.
Asgar turns around in the driver’s seat to look at me.
“Your papa is not the man you think he is,” he starts.
“Tell her about the international salesman bit!” Hazi breaks in, his eyes unusually bright.
“Shut it!” Asgar scowls back at him. He returns his gaze to the road, continuing with his explanation.
“Mr. Snow is an international salesman, sort of. In a way. If you count munitions and heavy artillery as goods, then he’s definitely in the export-import business. But the kicker is that your father works for the Russian mob, baby. He supplies guns, ammo, tanks, protective armor, you name it to the men in our country. The separatists, to be clear. These men are tasked with the duty of abolishing all people who still live in loyalty to the governing realm of Aliyev, not to mention destroying anyone who stands in the way of the empire they desire.”