6:43 a.m.
Bryansk, Russia
Twenty-three-year-old Marta checked her appearance in the hall mirror one more time. Turning her head to the left, she pulled back her hair and examined her work. She had spent a long time applying makeup to the appropriate areas of her face and neck, covering the bruises. She was especially pleased with her efforts on her black eye. It’s passable. She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing when she raised the arm. The pain was so intense she lost her breath. Fortunately, Marta only had to conceal the bruises on her face. She did not have enough makeup for the more severe marks on her body. Clothing could hide those reminders of the nightmare.
Marta approached an office door and rapped on it with her knuckles. A woman’s voice replied and Marta walked into the office and closed the door behind her. She stopped at a desk. A woman in her fifties sat on the other side, writing on a piece of paper, periodically punching the keys on a calculator.
“YA budu s vami vsego za minute – I’ll be with you in just a minute,” said the woman.
Marta shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Pain from her right hip sent a shock wave to her brain and her face contorted. Instinctively, her right hand clutched at the source of the discomfort. Another minute passed, while Marta glanced at the woman’s desk and the items that lay on it. She caught a glimpse of something and shifted her weight back to her left foot to get a better view. When she did, her eyes bulged and her body froze.
The woman pressed the ‘enter’ key on the calculator, wrote a few numbers on the paper, and dropped the pen onto the desk. Leaning back and looking at Marta, the woman said, “Itak, chto ya mogu sdelat' dlya vas, Marta – So, what can I do for you, Marta?” Not getting a reply, the woman said, “Marta?” She stared at the girl who appeared to be in a trance, mesmerized with something on the desk, her body trembling. The woman called Marta’s name one more time before following Marta’s gaze. Thinking she knew what the girl was staring at, the woman picked up a photo of a man and moved the image in front of her. Marta’s eyes never strayed from the photo, but followed it wherever the woman moved it. “Pogovori so mnoy, Marta. Chto eto – Talk to me, Marta. What is it?”