The Mister

“You fucking arsehole!” I roar, and punch his face, smacking his head to one side as I sit astride him. I hit him again as he struggles, taking a swipe at my face, which I dodge. But he’s strong, and he writhes beneath me, so I close my fingers around his throat and squeeze. He grabs my hands, trying to shake me off. He puckers his lips and spits at my face, but I dodge that, too, and his spittle falls back onto his cheek, so he’s covered in his own slime. This only enrages him more. And he bucks and bucks. He’s shouting at me in his own language. Words I don’t understand—but I don’t fucking care.

I squeeze harder.

Die, you fucker.

His face reddens. His eyes bulge.

I lift my hands, bringing his head up, and then slam it down on the kitchen tiles. Grateful to hear the loud thud.

Somewhere behind me I hear a scream.

Alessia.

“Get. Off. Me!” the arsehole gasps in broken English.

And suddenly there are hands on me, trying to pull me away. Fighting them off, I lean in close, close enough to smell his stale breath. “You touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you!” I snarl.

“Trevethick! Trevethick! Maxim! Max!” It’s Tom. He’s grabbing my shoulders, hauling me off. I drag air into my lungs as I stand, my whole body vibrating with fury and a lust for revenge. The arsehole glares up at me, and I find Alessia’s father standing between us holding his shotgun. With a venomous look, he waves the barrel, motioning for me to back off.

Reluctantly I oblige.

“Calm down, Maxim. You don’t want to cause an international incident,” Tom says as he and Thanas tug me back. The arsehole scrambles to his feet, pure loathing in his scowl.

“You’re like all Englishmen,” the arsehole snarls. “You’re soft and weak, and your women are hard.”

“Soft enough to beat the shit out of you, you piece of crap,” I snap.

As the red mist clears, I can hear Alessia fretting behind me.

Shit.

* * *

Alessia’s father stands between the two men, looking at each of them in consternation.

“You come into my house bringing violence? In front of my wife and my daughter?” he addresses Maxim and his friend Tom.

Where did Tom appear from? Alessia wonders. She remembers meeting him in Brentford and recalls him in Maxim’s kitchen with the scars down his leg. Tom runs a hand through his rust-red hair as he gazes at her father.

The translator leans forward and murmurs her father’s words to Maxim in English. Maxim holds up his hands and steps back. “I apologize to you, Mr. Demachi. I love your daughter, and I don’t wish to see any harm come to her. Especially at the hands of a man.” Maxim gives Baba a pointed look. Baba frowns and turns his attention to Anatoli.

“And you. You bring her back to me covered in bruises?”

“You know how spirited she is, Jak. She needs to be broken.”

“Broken? Like this?” Baba points to her neck.

Anatoli shrugs. “She’s a woman.” His tone implies that she’s of no consequence.

As the words are translated for Maxim, his jaw tightens and his fists clench. He bristles with tension and anger.

“No,” Alessia murmurs, reaching out and touching Maxim’s arm to calm him.

“Quiet, you!” her father snaps, whirling around to face her. “You brought this shame on us. You run. And you return a whore. Spreading your legs for this Englishman.”

Alessia hangs her head, her cheeks ashen.

“Babë, Anatoli will kill me,” she whispers. “And if you want me dead, I’d rather you shot me with that gun you’re holding, so I might die at the hands of someone who is supposed to love me.”

She glances at Baba, who blanches at her words while Thanas quietly translates them.

“No,” Maxim says, with such heartfelt conviction that all eyes turn to him. He moves quickly, ushering Alessia behind him. “Don’t touch her. Either of you.”

Baba stares at him, but Alessia doesn’t know whether her father is outraged or impressed.

“Your daughter is soiled goods, Demachi,” Anatoli says. “Why would I want another man’s leftovers and her bastard? You can keep her, and kiss good-bye to the loan I promised you.”

Baba scowls at him. “You would do this to me?”

“Your word is worthless,” Anatoli growls.

The translator quietly relays the words in English. “Loan?” Maxim says. He turns his head slightly and speaks so that only Alessia can hear him. “This arsehole paid for you?”

Alessia flushes.

Maxim faces her father. “I will match any loan,” he says.

“No!” Alessia exclaims.

Her father glares at Maxim, furious.

“You dishonor him,” Alessia whispers.

“Carissima,” Anatoli declares from the doorway. “I should have fucked you when I had the chance.” He uses English so that Maxim can understand.

Maxim lurches at him, bristling with anger once more, but Anatoli is ready this time. From his coat pocket, he whisks out his pistol and takes aim at Maxim’s face.

“No!” Alessia shrieks, and she darts quickly in front of Maxim, shielding him.

“I don’t know whether to shoot you or him,” Anatoli snarls at her in his mother tongue, and he looks to her father for permission.

Baba stares back at Anatoli and then at Alessia.

Everyone quiets. The tension is a thick blanket over the whole room. Alessia leans forward. “What are you going to do, Anatoli?” She jabs her index finger at him. “Shoot him or me?” Thanas translates.

Maxim grabs her arms, but she shakes him off.

“Who hides behind a woman?” Anatoli sneers in English. “I have enough bullets for both of you.” His look of triumph makes her nauseated.

“No, you don’t,” Alessia retorts.

Anatoli frowns. “What?” And he measures the weight of the gun in his hand.

“This morning in Zagreb, I took the bullets out while you were sleeping.”

Aiming the gun at Alessia, Anatoli tightens his finger on the trigger.

“No!” roars her father, and he rams Anatoli with the butt of the shotgun so hard that he falls to the floor. Seething, Anatoli takes aim again, this time at her father, and pulls the trigger.

“No!” Alessia and her mother shout in unison. But nothing happens. The hammer clicks and echoes against an empty chamber.

“Fuck!” Anatoli shouts, and he glares up at Alessia, a bizarre combination of admiration and contempt on his face. “You are one fucking annoying woman,” he mutters, and he staggers to his feet.

“Go!” Baba bellows. “Go now, Anatoli, before I shoot you myself. You want to start a blood feud?”

“Over your whore?”

“She is my daughter, and these people are guests in my house. Go. Now. You are no longer welcome here.”

Anatoli gazes at her father, his fury and impotence written in every tense muscle on his face. “You’ve not heard the last of this,” he snarls at Baba and Maxim. Turning on his heel, he pushes past Tom and heads out of the room. Moments later they hear a loud bang as he slams the front door.

* * *

When Demachi slowly turns to face Alessia, his eyes are blazing. Ignoring me, he concentrates his menacing look on his daughter. “You have dishonored me,” Thanas translates. “Your family. Your town. And you return here in this state?” Her father waves a hand up and down her body. “You have dishonored yourself.”

And I watch Alessia hang her head with shame, and a tear slides down her cheek. “Look at me,” he growls. When she looks up, he pulls back his arm to backhand her face, but I grab her and tug her out of his reach. She’s shaking.

“Don’t you dare touch a hair on her head,” I snarl, towering over him. “Th

is woman has been through hell. And all because of you and your shit choice of a husband for her. She’s been kidnapped by sex traffickers. She’s escaped. She’s gone without food. She’s walked for days with nothing. And after all that, she was resilient enough to get herself a job and hold body and soul together with barely any help. How can you treat her this way? What kind of father are you? Where is your honor?”

“Maxim! This is my father.” Alessia grabs my arm, a look of horror on her face, as I lay into her so-called father. But I’m on a roll, and Thanas sounds like he’s keeping up with me.

“How can you speak of honor if this is the way you treat her? And, what’s more, she may be carrying your grandchild—and you threaten her with violence?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Alessia’s mother, who is clutching her apron, her expression full of horror. It’s chastening.

Demachi is staring at me as if I’m completely crazy. He looks to Alessia and then back to me, his fury and disgust clear in his dark eyes. “How dare you come into my house and tell me how to behave? You. You who should have kept his pecker zipped in his pants. Don’t talk to me of honor.” Thanas blanches as he translates. “You dishonor us all. You dishonor my daughter. But there’s one thing you can do,” he growls through gritted teeth, and in one swift move he cocks his shotgun with a loud click.