You Don't Own Me 2 (The Russian Don 2)

‘Are you ready?’ papa asks.

I stop moving my legs. ‘Yes.’

‘Hold your hands up over your head.’

Immediately I raise both hands.

‘The first lesson is learning how to take a punch like a man,’ he says and punches me in the ribs.

The blow hurts, but I am able to keep my hands up.

Papa looks me in the eye and nods with approval. I feel a flash of pride. I truly have become a man.

I take a deep breath and he punches me again. I breathe in sharply. That one was more painful.

‘Good,’ he encourages before hitting me again, harder still. Then, before I can recover properly he gets the fourth one in. It knocks the wind out of me and I double over, my hands automatically going around my belly to protect myself.

‘Hands up,’ he orders.

I stare up at him, shocked. I don’t recognize the man glaring at me angrily. This is not my papa.

‘Hands up,’ he says sternly. ‘I’m doing this is for your own good.’

Slowly I straighten my body and raise my hands up.

‘Let’s see if I have a son or a daughter,’ he says.

Then his arm shoots out. Wham. So hard hot tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I’m a man now.

‘If you can’t take this how are you going to be the greatest fighter in the world?’

Wham.

‘For God’s sake, stop sniveling like a little girl, I’m not even using half my strength.’

Wham.

He laughs. ‘You think it’s so easy to be the best fighter in the world, huh?’

Wham.

This time I fall to the ground, unable to breathe.

My father flies out of his chair. ‘Get up, you pathetic little sissy,’ he spits furiously.

He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me up to my knees. I start crying. He brings his face so close to mine I see the little holes in his skin and the mad light in his shining eyes.

My mother appears at the doorway. Her face is white. ‘That’s enough now,’ she pleads. ‘Please Igor. That’s enough for today. He’s just a child.’

My father carries on staring at me, at the tears rolling down my stunned face, at the snot running from my nose, at my shivering body.

‘You disgust me,’ he says and lets go of my hair.

I fall back to the floor, but he is not finished.

‘Stand up,’ he orders.

‘Please Igor,’ my mother begs. Her voice is shaking with fear.

‘I said stand up,’ my father shouts.

I get on my hands and knees and stand unsteadily. My head feels dizzy, my knees are like jelly, and my stomach and ribs are so full of pain I am sure that I am dying.

‘Now fucking put your hands up.’

I am trying my best not to cry, but my entire body is shuddering with agony as I lift my hands up.

My father throws a punch. It is so vicious my body goes flying backwards, crashes into a chair, and both the chair and I slide along the floor and slam into the wall.

‘Get up and fight,’ papa screams.

Whimpering, and twisted into a heap, I stare bewildered at my mother. She is running towards me, but she never reaches me. My father grabs her by the hair and jerks her back. I see her mouth open, but no sound come out. He throws her and she goes hurtling backwards and slams into the wall with the most awful thud. Winded and shocked she lays propped up against the wall. Mama legs are open wide and I can see her underwear.

Papa hisses at mama like a snake and calls her a bad word. ‘Stay out of this you, witch. This is for his own good.’

Then he turns towards me. I can see mama beginning to crawl on the floor.

‘Don’t hurt him, Igor,’ she snarls.

Papa freezes, his face twisted and ugly. He turns around, goes back to her, picks her up as if she is a doll, and smashes her face against the floor. Blood gushes out of her nose. I can’t breathe. I can’t say single word. Gasping sounds come from my mouth.

‘Don’t interfere,’ Papa says as he kicks mama again and again in her poor belly. She curls up into a ball and doesn’t make a single sound.

‘Mama!’ I scream again and again, but nobody pays any attention to me.

I get up even though my whole body feels the way my finger felt when it was crushed under a rock, and rush screaming towards my mama. ‘Stop, papa. Stop. You killing mama.’

Papa grabs me as I lunge towards him.

‘Scream will you?’ he bellows, and kaboom, punches me in the side of head. My whole body sails backwards. Then there is no more pain. Just blackness…

What you want baby, I got.

Two

Dahlia Fury

Supreme excellence consists in breaking

the enemy’s resistance without fighting

– Sun Tzu

I turn the handle and open the door without knocking. Only one lamp is lit and the room is full of long, still shadows. I can make him out sitting fully clothed on the armchair by the window. His legs are crossed at the ankles and resting on the low glass table in front of him.