The stained toilet is nothing but a hole in the cell's floor and may as well be a portal to hell. Then again, I feel like I’m already in hell. I sit and watch a cockroach crawl out of a rusted air vent before it darts across the grubby wall tiles into the shadows.
Slumped on the cold vinyl floor, I listen to the sobs which ghost from under the door. Despite sharing the cell with Daniel, my husband, we don't speak. We're in shock. The reality of our situation is yet to sink in.
But we know it's bad.
Our lives will never be the same. And he is pissed with me because it's all my fault.
I still don't know how it happened. All I know is that I panicked. Panicked and ran. And now my husband of twelve years has a busted nose, a fat lip and a dislocated shoulder. He's always been more of a lover than a fighter. So I've never seen him like this.
It breaks my heart to know I'm responsible.
The cell door opens and in steps a thick-set moustached police captain
who seems to run this shithole of a station. Just as he was when he booked us in, he's stuffing his face. This time munching on a meat-packed baguette. Still with a mouthful of sandwich, he orders me to stand. My tired bones ache as I climb to bare feet, my Gucci heels long gone, and my matching dress is covered in tears and smudged mascara fingerprints. I was about to demand my phone call again, but my attention was drawn to a second man. I've never seen him before. His black hair is slicked back, and his eyes are charcoal grey. Dressed in black jeans and a leather coat, he doesn't appear to be a policeman.
The two men speak between themselves in Romanian. I can't help but squirm under their stares. They never look at Daniel.
The tall man suddenly speaks to me in English. "Your passport says the United Kingdom. But where are you really from?"
"You have my passport?"
"Yes."
Shit. They had obviously accessed the safe back at my hotel. "I'm… I'm English."
He laughs. "You're brown. Your family from India?"
"I have Indian heritage. Yes."
Nice. I don't have any Indian women."
Daniel slowly stands from the bunk. "What do you mean? You don't have many Indian women." He grimaces in pain while holding his arm that is fixed in a tight sling across his chest. "She is going nowhere without me."
This is why I love Daniel. Despite everything, he still has my back.
The police captain doesn't seem to like Daniel. He draws his baton. "No talk." And points it at Daniel's face. "Down. Down. Or I beat you like bitch."
"OK. OK." Daniel retreats to the bunk. "Calm down."
The tall man sets his eyes on me. I can smell the spice of his cologne. His thin lips reveal a set of teeth stained by tobacco. "The man. The one you ran over last night. He has just died in hospital."
I scream and fall backwards onto my hard bunk. "No. No. No!"
"It's true."
"I need a phone call. I need a lawyer."
"No. You don't need a lawyer." The man slips a cigarette between his lips. He rummages around in the inside pocket of his leather jacket before pulling out a vintage zippo lighter embossed with an Orthodox cross. "You need a miracle."
"It was an accident."
"You fled the scene like a coward."
"I did. But I panicked.” My eyes burn from my salty tears, and I struggle to see. "There were no streetlights and, and… he was in the middle of the road on a blind bend…." I'm speaking a million miles per hour and struggling to breathe. “The investigations will prove this."
He flicks the zippo, which lights first time. "The victim was called Petr. Forty-nine. An alcoholic and petty criminal. Always in and out of jail. He’s probably been in this cell. Not a pillar of society."
These facts don't make me feel better.
"But he had a family. Three children. One still in school." He burns the end of the cigarette and draws his first drag. "They all must go into care because you killed their father."
"What about the mother?"
He exhales the grey smoke through his flared nostrils like a demon. His wry smile told me he was enjoying torturing me. "She lost her mind to **** and cheap vodka. She had a bad start in life and never recovered. Her kids will go the same way. They say here, once an orphan, always an orphan."
The facts hit me in the stomach like a sledgehammer. I double over in pain and sink to the floor. My insides twist, and I want to vomit. "I feel sick."
The Captain jabs me in the temple with his baton. "Hit and run. Very serious crime. Also failed breathalyser." He jabbed me a second time. It hurts but not as much as his words. "Twenty years in prison."
"I only had one glass of wine."
Daniel stands up. "Listen. It was me who was driving. We switched seats before the police checkpoint."
"Daniel!"
"It's true."
"Shut the fuck up." The Captain goes to strike Daniel, but I stand up and step in the way.
Daniel was lying. He was fast asleep in the passenger seat, drunk after a friend's party. I gesture for Daniel to sit back down before turning back to the man. "No. It was me. I was driving. He's only trying to protect me."
"At least you're an honest murderer."
He's right. I am a murderer. How quickly can things change?
I am an award-winning financier who, at only twenty-three, became the youngest VP in the Royal Bank of England's four-hundred-year history.
I was also the first woman in that position. Since, I have had my own column in the Financial Times and mentions in dozens of financial publications, including the Wall Street Journal and Forbes.
Now aged thirty-seven, after dedicating my whole life to my career, Daniel and I decided to take a year out to travel the world and hopefully start a family. We left London two months ago and travelled slowly and luxuriously through Western Europe in a Range Rover. Romania was just our latest stop on our way through the Balkans towards Turkey. But now I feared Romania was our final stop. And my permanent residence.
And I know I'm guilty. Guilty of ****.
And now I'm here. In jail, talking to a man who has yet to introduce himself. A fact that was starting to worry me.
The man must see me lost in my thoughts and clicks his fingers. "But I'm here to help you."
"What?" That was not a sentence I was expecting. "You are here to... to help me?"
He offers his large, calloused hand." My name is Gabriel."
I try to smile, but my heart isn't in it. "I'm Preeti."
"I know who you are."
"Are you a lawyer?"
"No."
My heart darkens as it sinks deeper than ever before. "Oh…"
"As my biblical name suggests." He crosses his large muscular arms. "I'm here to guide and protect you."
"Erm… What?"
"I'm here to give you a second chance."
"Seriously?"
Daniel's voice is layered with concern. Like me, he's obviously not convinced by Gabriel. "Gabriel."
"Call me Gabi."
"Gabi. If you're not a lawyer. Explain how you can get us out of here. I mean, we're in the shit."
"The Captain here is a good friend. He always lets me know when he comes across people my boss might be interested in."
"Interesting people?"
"Preeti. Not you."
"Oh.” Dan looks crestfallen, and gazes forlornly at his shoes. “Right."
"The business I work for has many departments. My department is recruitment. Mainly women."
It suddenly dawns on me that Gabriel is more a demon than an angel. "What kind of work? I guess it's not office assistants you're looking for, is it, Gabi?"
"You'll be working mainly with the tools you were born with. "
"Ah, I see." I now understand that my nightmare keeps escalating. The shit storm just keeps rolling.
Dan sounds distraught. “You mean sex work?"
"Yes. In all its forms."
Dan turns to me. "Preeti?"
"What choice do I have, Dan? Feel free to come up with something better."
He runs his free hand through his brown hair. "Fuck sake."
"What do you mean by all forms , Gabi?"
I can see pride all over Gabriel's face. Like a father talking about his son's achievements, he talks wide-eyed and smiling as he tells me about his empire. "We run the Red-Light districts in Bucharest and Cluj. But we also have Chisinau in Moldova and we will expand to moscow and dubai soon. So, everything you can dare to think of. Porn Studios, fetish clubs, strip clubs right down to brothels and street girls." He finally adds with a wry smile and a shrug of his heavy shoulders. "Prove a shit whore. We can always use you as a **** mule."
I feel myself shake. I have always considered myself strong. A confident woman who stands up for equality and the rights of women. But I've never been so terrified. Dan is the only man I have ever been with, so Gabriel and his plan revile me. "What kind of archangel are you? I didn't know there was a Patron Saint of Perverts and Pimps."
"I am the only man who wants to help you. Making me your only option."
"I'm too ugly for such work, anyway. Look at me."
Gabi takes in my figure with a critical stare and nods. "Granted, you're not as attractive as most of the women who work for me, soft in the middle, and your tits are small. But nothing we can't work with." Gabi drags on his cigarette while he contemplates what I said. "But like the Captain told me, you're different to most the women 'round here. You're Indian." He shrugs his heavy shoulders. "Plus, I'm good at marketing. I'll find the right clients for you."
I want to scream and run. But I have nowhere to go, so I rely on my only remaining weapon. My intelligence. "I'm much, much more valuable than a hooker."
"Are you questioning me?"
Dan suddenly chirps up. "Yeah. You should listen to Preeti. Everything she touches turns to gold. She's a business guru. You should let her run one of your enterprises."
"She'll have to earn her right first. Work from the bottom up."
I don't let Gabriel deter me. "My IQ is 140.
"You were drunk at the wheel of a car that ran a man down, leaving him to die alone in the dark. You're nothing special in my eyes."
"True, But..." I wasn't finished yet. "I can grow the business. Fuck, I'm strait-laced, but I know plenty of people who aren't. I have contacts in London. Take me to your boss. Trust me; you won't regret it. We'll go international."
"You need to prove your worth first." Gabriel glances at his gold-plated wristwatch. "Anyway. I need to move. You want money? I can wire you the money. Give me my smartphone, and I can wire £120,000 right now."
"That's not the point, Preeti."
"Give me forty-eight hours, and I can wire you double that. I promise."
Gabriel shakes his head, and gazes up at the mildew-dotted ceiling. "You need to work off your sin. You can't buy yourself back into heaven, or whatever it is you Hindus call it." He grabs me by my chin and looks at me point-blank "No, you have to work your way out of hell."
"Surely I should be working good deeds rather than bad."
"The idea is you have to suffer, so you once again truly appreciate the goodness in life."
"What about Daniel?"
The Captain barks. "He stays in prison for assaulting my office."
Gabriel speaks in Romanian to the Captain. They don't seem to agree at first, but eventually, the Captain nods.
Gabriel slaps the shoulder of Captain and laughs. He turns and meets my eyes. "If you accept my offer, work hard, and don't disappoint. Daniel will be under my protection."
I look at Daniel. "What do you think?"
"I don't think it's my decision to make. You were at the wheel."
His words hurt me because they're true.
I chew my lower lip and shift the weight from one foot to the other, thinking and playing for time in equal measure. I close my eyes and pray.
Looking at Gabriel, I ask, "How long will I be in servitude?”
“Servitude?” Gabriel seems confused by the word. “If you mean how long you’ll be a whore, as long as i think youll make me money.
“How do I know I can trust you to not hurt me ?”
“I am a man of my word. I will be open and honest with you. But let me down...” He wags his heavily gold ringed finger at my face. “Just once, you’ll never let me down a second time.”
I offer my hand to Gabi. "You have a deal."
A crack of thunder causes me to jump. The air instantly cools to the sound of heavy rain. Gabriel’s meaty face widens with a sinister smile. “Good .”
Slumped on the cold vinyl floor, I listen to the sobs which ghost from under the door. Despite sharing the cell with Daniel, my husband, we don't speak. We're in shock. The reality of our situation is yet to sink in.
But we know it's bad.
Our lives will never be the same. And he is pissed with me because it's all my fault.
I still don't know how it happened. All I know is that I panicked. Panicked and ran. And now my husband of twelve years has a busted nose, a fat lip and a dislocated shoulder. He's always been more of a lover than a fighter. So I've never seen him like this.
It breaks my heart to know I'm responsible.
The cell door opens and in steps a thick-set moustached police captain
who seems to run this shithole of a station. Just as he was when he booked us in, he's stuffing his face. This time munching on a meat-packed baguette. Still with a mouthful of sandwich, he orders me to stand. My tired bones ache as I climb to bare feet, my Gucci heels long gone, and my matching dress is covered in tears and smudged mascara fingerprints. I was about to demand my phone call again, but my attention was drawn to a second man. I've never seen him before. His black hair is slicked back, and his eyes are charcoal grey. Dressed in black jeans and a leather coat, he doesn't appear to be a policeman.
The two men speak between themselves in Romanian. I can't help but squirm under their stares. They never look at Daniel.
The tall man suddenly speaks to me in English. "Your passport says the United Kingdom. But where are you really from?"
"You have my passport?"
"Yes."
Shit. They had obviously accessed the safe back at my hotel. "I'm… I'm English."
He laughs. "You're brown. Your family from India?"
"I have Indian heritage. Yes."
Nice. I don't have any Indian women."
Daniel slowly stands from the bunk. "What do you mean? You don't have many Indian women." He grimaces in pain while holding his arm that is fixed in a tight sling across his chest. "She is going nowhere without me."
This is why I love Daniel. Despite everything, he still has my back.
The police captain doesn't seem to like Daniel. He draws his baton. "No talk." And points it at Daniel's face. "Down. Down. Or I beat you like bitch."
"OK. OK." Daniel retreats to the bunk. "Calm down."
The tall man sets his eyes on me. I can smell the spice of his cologne. His thin lips reveal a set of teeth stained by tobacco. "The man. The one you ran over last night. He has just died in hospital."
I scream and fall backwards onto my hard bunk. "No. No. No!"
"It's true."
"I need a phone call. I need a lawyer."
"No. You don't need a lawyer." The man slips a cigarette between his lips. He rummages around in the inside pocket of his leather jacket before pulling out a vintage zippo lighter embossed with an Orthodox cross. "You need a miracle."
"It was an accident."
"You fled the scene like a coward."
"I did. But I panicked.” My eyes burn from my salty tears, and I struggle to see. "There were no streetlights and, and… he was in the middle of the road on a blind bend…." I'm speaking a million miles per hour and struggling to breathe. “The investigations will prove this."
He flicks the zippo, which lights first time. "The victim was called Petr. Forty-nine. An alcoholic and petty criminal. Always in and out of jail. He’s probably been in this cell. Not a pillar of society."
These facts don't make me feel better.
"But he had a family. Three children. One still in school." He burns the end of the cigarette and draws his first drag. "They all must go into care because you killed their father."
"What about the mother?"
He exhales the grey smoke through his flared nostrils like a demon. His wry smile told me he was enjoying torturing me. "She lost her mind to **** and cheap vodka. She had a bad start in life and never recovered. Her kids will go the same way. They say here, once an orphan, always an orphan."
The facts hit me in the stomach like a sledgehammer. I double over in pain and sink to the floor. My insides twist, and I want to vomit. "I feel sick."
The Captain jabs me in the temple with his baton. "Hit and run. Very serious crime. Also failed breathalyser." He jabbed me a second time. It hurts but not as much as his words. "Twenty years in prison."
"I only had one glass of wine."
Daniel stands up. "Listen. It was me who was driving. We switched seats before the police checkpoint."
"Daniel!"
"It's true."
"Shut the fuck up." The Captain goes to strike Daniel, but I stand up and step in the way.
Daniel was lying. He was fast asleep in the passenger seat, drunk after a friend's party. I gesture for Daniel to sit back down before turning back to the man. "No. It was me. I was driving. He's only trying to protect me."
"At least you're an honest murderer."
He's right. I am a murderer. How quickly can things change?
I am an award-winning financier who, at only twenty-three, became the youngest VP in the Royal Bank of England's four-hundred-year history.
I was also the first woman in that position. Since, I have had my own column in the Financial Times and mentions in dozens of financial publications, including the Wall Street Journal and Forbes.
Now aged thirty-seven, after dedicating my whole life to my career, Daniel and I decided to take a year out to travel the world and hopefully start a family. We left London two months ago and travelled slowly and luxuriously through Western Europe in a Range Rover. Romania was just our latest stop on our way through the Balkans towards Turkey. But now I feared Romania was our final stop. And my permanent residence.
And I know I'm guilty. Guilty of ****.
And now I'm here. In jail, talking to a man who has yet to introduce himself. A fact that was starting to worry me.
The man must see me lost in my thoughts and clicks his fingers. "But I'm here to help you."
"What?" That was not a sentence I was expecting. "You are here to... to help me?"
He offers his large, calloused hand." My name is Gabriel."
I try to smile, but my heart isn't in it. "I'm Preeti."
"I know who you are."
"Are you a lawyer?"
"No."
My heart darkens as it sinks deeper than ever before. "Oh…"
"As my biblical name suggests." He crosses his large muscular arms. "I'm here to guide and protect you."
"Erm… What?"
"I'm here to give you a second chance."
"Seriously?"
Daniel's voice is layered with concern. Like me, he's obviously not convinced by Gabriel. "Gabriel."
"Call me Gabi."
"Gabi. If you're not a lawyer. Explain how you can get us out of here. I mean, we're in the shit."
"The Captain here is a good friend. He always lets me know when he comes across people my boss might be interested in."
"Interesting people?"
"Preeti. Not you."
"Oh.” Dan looks crestfallen, and gazes forlornly at his shoes. “Right."
"The business I work for has many departments. My department is recruitment. Mainly women."
It suddenly dawns on me that Gabriel is more a demon than an angel. "What kind of work? I guess it's not office assistants you're looking for, is it, Gabi?"
"You'll be working mainly with the tools you were born with. "
"Ah, I see." I now understand that my nightmare keeps escalating. The shit storm just keeps rolling.
Dan sounds distraught. “You mean sex work?"
"Yes. In all its forms."
Dan turns to me. "Preeti?"
"What choice do I have, Dan? Feel free to come up with something better."
He runs his free hand through his brown hair. "Fuck sake."
"What do you mean by all forms , Gabi?"
I can see pride all over Gabriel's face. Like a father talking about his son's achievements, he talks wide-eyed and smiling as he tells me about his empire. "We run the Red-Light districts in Bucharest and Cluj. But we also have Chisinau in Moldova and we will expand to moscow and dubai soon. So, everything you can dare to think of. Porn Studios, fetish clubs, strip clubs right down to brothels and street girls." He finally adds with a wry smile and a shrug of his heavy shoulders. "Prove a shit whore. We can always use you as a **** mule."
I feel myself shake. I have always considered myself strong. A confident woman who stands up for equality and the rights of women. But I've never been so terrified. Dan is the only man I have ever been with, so Gabriel and his plan revile me. "What kind of archangel are you? I didn't know there was a Patron Saint of Perverts and Pimps."
"I am the only man who wants to help you. Making me your only option."
"I'm too ugly for such work, anyway. Look at me."
Gabi takes in my figure with a critical stare and nods. "Granted, you're not as attractive as most of the women who work for me, soft in the middle, and your tits are small. But nothing we can't work with." Gabi drags on his cigarette while he contemplates what I said. "But like the Captain told me, you're different to most the women 'round here. You're Indian." He shrugs his heavy shoulders. "Plus, I'm good at marketing. I'll find the right clients for you."
I want to scream and run. But I have nowhere to go, so I rely on my only remaining weapon. My intelligence. "I'm much, much more valuable than a hooker."
"Are you questioning me?"
Dan suddenly chirps up. "Yeah. You should listen to Preeti. Everything she touches turns to gold. She's a business guru. You should let her run one of your enterprises."
"She'll have to earn her right first. Work from the bottom up."
I don't let Gabriel deter me. "My IQ is 140.
"You were drunk at the wheel of a car that ran a man down, leaving him to die alone in the dark. You're nothing special in my eyes."
"True, But..." I wasn't finished yet. "I can grow the business. Fuck, I'm strait-laced, but I know plenty of people who aren't. I have contacts in London. Take me to your boss. Trust me; you won't regret it. We'll go international."
"You need to prove your worth first." Gabriel glances at his gold-plated wristwatch. "Anyway. I need to move. You want money? I can wire you the money. Give me my smartphone, and I can wire £120,000 right now."
"That's not the point, Preeti."
"Give me forty-eight hours, and I can wire you double that. I promise."
Gabriel shakes his head, and gazes up at the mildew-dotted ceiling. "You need to work off your sin. You can't buy yourself back into heaven, or whatever it is you Hindus call it." He grabs me by my chin and looks at me point-blank "No, you have to work your way out of hell."
"Surely I should be working good deeds rather than bad."
"The idea is you have to suffer, so you once again truly appreciate the goodness in life."
"What about Daniel?"
The Captain barks. "He stays in prison for assaulting my office."
Gabriel speaks in Romanian to the Captain. They don't seem to agree at first, but eventually, the Captain nods.
Gabriel slaps the shoulder of Captain and laughs. He turns and meets my eyes. "If you accept my offer, work hard, and don't disappoint. Daniel will be under my protection."
I look at Daniel. "What do you think?"
"I don't think it's my decision to make. You were at the wheel."
His words hurt me because they're true.
I chew my lower lip and shift the weight from one foot to the other, thinking and playing for time in equal measure. I close my eyes and pray.
Looking at Gabriel, I ask, "How long will I be in servitude?”
“Servitude?” Gabriel seems confused by the word. “If you mean how long you’ll be a whore, as long as i think youll make me money.
“How do I know I can trust you to not hurt me ?”
“I am a man of my word. I will be open and honest with you. But let me down...” He wags his heavily gold ringed finger at my face. “Just once, you’ll never let me down a second time.”
I offer my hand to Gabi. "You have a deal."
A crack of thunder causes me to jump. The air instantly cools to the sound of heavy rain. Gabriel’s meaty face widens with a sinister smile. “Good .”
