NATASHA
As soon as I was standing in front of the elevator, I got ready to leap up and press the UP button when all of a sudden I heard a cry, again. However, this time it was louder and more audible. The voice said, ‘help me, please, help me if there is someone out there please get me out of this dungeon’. What, I said to myself. I took several steps in the direction of apartment #112 when I was close enough I placed my left ear on the door. This way, I could hear everything that was ensuing. My feline instincts were flashing a warning sign. Something horrible was happening therein, and I knew that the voice came from a live person, a young woman, not a television, computer, or other artificial source.
“Please, I know someone’s out there. If you can help me do so right now, before my tormentors, return. I do not want anything from you. If you are out there, I know that you are a caring person. Please don't betray me.” I took a couple steps back, paused for a moment, and then pondered about what to do. If I left this young woman my conscience would be severely heartbroken, and I could never forgive myself. However, if I helped her my conscience would be clear, but I may be creating a situation where in her tormentors would retaliate against my parents and me.
I decided to help her. If it had been me calling out for help I would want someone to do something. It would be a cold-blooded act to ignore this desperate bereaving person. I had suspicions of what was going on. However, at the same time I did not want to jump to conclusions. I played it safe.
I knocked on the door three times then waited for a response. “Hey, you hear me! Please enter the apartment. Help me, please, before they come back!”
"Miss, whoever you are. My paw print will not work on your door scanner. I am not a registered occupant of your apartment. How can I open the door?"
"The door isn't locked. I will explain later. Please, do not waste any time talking to me. Just come inside the apartment and please help me before it's too late!"
I gently pushed the door until it was wide open. However, before I continued I closed the door behind me, just in case the tormentors came back while I was still in the apartment. I studied the apartment carefully. The carpet was blue and very soft. The furniture was extravagant to say the least. Even the overhead chandelier was fit for a mansion. There was a 90-inch HD television at the far end of the living room. There was an apple scent in the air. This smokescreen could easily fool a typical human being but not a dog or a cat, or many other species of animals. Underneath the beauty was a partially faded scent of sin and brutality. I smelled dried semen, vaginal fluid, blood, sweat, and pain. My heart began to race, fearing the worst I cringed.
Nevertheless, I was already in too deep, and there was no heading back. "Sir, I know you entered the apartment. Please don't waste any more time."
I followed the trail of the voice into a bedroom, wherein I searched diligently for a young woman. "Miss, I can smell you but I don't exactly know where you are. I'm not a bloodhound, please speak up."
"I'm here, please help me." I opened the sliding door leading into a closet. Looking around I saw nothing. I noticed a lever partially hidden behind a laundry basket. I leaped onto the basket and then pulled the lever wherein a door opened. I could not believe that there could be a secret passage in an apartment building.
I passed my body through the door, wherein I entered a semi-barren room. Therein, I saw a young woman, perhaps in her late teens, sitting on a carpeted floor. What is more she had been crying, appeared to be in a crisis, and was not wearing anything. I looked away then gave her instructions. "Miss, put some clothes on, please. I cannot look at you when you are in the nude. I have never even seen my own parents in the nude. Your body is very important it’s your prized possession and castle."
I waited attentively for the young woman to dress. "Okay, kitty, I'm fully dressed. Sorry about that."
"Miss, I don't have super hearing. You couldn't have been here when you called out to me while I was outside."
"No, I was in the living room, and as soon as I told you that the door was open I ran into this room. I had to be certain that you were not one of my tormentors' friends. In that case, it would be curtains for me. Anyhow, this is my working room. You are probably wondering why there is a bed and a red-tinged light in here. This is the bawdy room."
"Huh, what, I know what a bawdy room is, but if you're that kind of a girl why did you call me here. As you can now see, I am a cat. In addition, that is not all. You have a strong foreign accent. Where are you originally from?"
"I was born in Kiev, Ukraine. My parents are poor peasants. When I turned sixteen, I started looking for work. I saw an ad in a local paper promising good pay to Ukrainian women who were willing to move overseas. The ad was from an employment agency. The catch was, I had to move to the United States, and I would have to surrender my passport to my sponsor. To make a long story short as soon as I left Kennedy Airport with my sponsors, she and several men in the van made it clear that I now belonged to them. They drove me to a secluded area somewhere in New York wherein a house containing at least a dozen men were standing in a crooked line were waiting for something. I did not know this at the time but they were waiting for me. I lost my virginity and bled, but I was forced keep working. I lost count after the twelfth rape, because more men entered the line. It seemed like every rapist in New York had done me. I cannot stand it anymore. I do not like this country. I want to go home. No offense, regarding the statement about your country, but under the circumstances all I've endured herein is pain, agony, torment, and anxiety." "Listen, I understand what you mean. However, please do not judge my entire country based on what happened to you. The people who did this to you belong to a network of evil beings, belonging to a variety of nationalities living in different countries. Do you understand what I am saying? And another thing, I'm an American; I want to help you this is why I didn't leave our floor after I heard your cries for help."
"Kitty, I'm sorry. I take back what I said. Understand that I am still in shock and as such cannot think straight. My name is Natasha Pavlov, what' your name?"
"Now we're getting somewhere. My name is Jason Abbott. I am from Nebraska. My parents came to Pennsylvania for their retirement. I had no say in it. If I did we'd still be back home."
"Pennsylvania is that where we are? They lied to me. You see, my tormentors kept me in a state of fear, terror, and confusion."
"Natasha, there's something that I can't understand. If the door to your apartment wasn't locked, why didn't you just leave?"
"I can't make it on my own. Besides, they will torture and kill me if I try to escape. They've kept me under their control." Tears began to stream down Natasha's face. "Jason, I know as a fact I've been raped more than a thousand times, and this is to be taken as an understatement."
I could not help it but my initial reaction was 'no way, she’s out of her mind'. Unfortunately, Natasha read the doubt on my face.
“Damn it, Jason, why don't you believe me? I am telling you the truth. My ordeal has been so horrible I do not have to exaggerate. That is not all. During my ordeal, I saw other women, and they each had their own horror stories. I did not find out until later but many women are trafficked in the slave and sex trade every single year. Why don't males like you ever believe us?" I instinctively bared my teeth. "Wait, Jason, please don't do that. I have seen male cats get rough with female cats. It's not a big secret."
I took several steps towards Natasha and then leaped onto her. I was now eye-to-eye with her. Following this, I used my paws to cup her cheeks, and then I spoke softly to her. "Natasha, I'm a cat. Okay, I'm not saying that things are perfect in the cat world, but we'd never traffic our own kind, it's simply below us." A flash thought hit me like a ton of bricks. "Natasha, what are we doing? We are wasting time. We should forget about our differences for now. Come on follow me back to my apartment. I will treat you to a nice hot meal, soft drinks, and television. I have my own room. We can watch television on my 70 incher. You'll have a blast."
Natasha was so psychologically controlled she had a hard time leaving that hellhole. It was like there was an invisible electric fence on the door. Thankfully, I was able to convince her to leave and come with me. I made sure that Natasha entered my apartment first. It was a sign of respect. Looking at her face, I realized that she was in fact telling the truth. I felt so awful about not believing her.
As soon as we arrived at the kitchen entrance, I directed Natasha to the dining table. Watching her walk to it made me realize how beautiful she was. I hope that she would be able to stay in the U.S. I would do everything in my power to help her. As soon as she sat down, I leaped onto the dining table. I told her to eat and drink whatever she wanted to. I directed Natasha to where the food items, drinks, and utensils were. It was a sad scene, indeed. Natasha was so hungry and thirsty I thought I was watching a hungry lion eating a carcass.
Later, I asked her to throw the garbage into the wastebasket and to put all of the plates and utensils in the dishwasher. After she was finished, we went to my room. After watching an hour's worth of television, it suddenly dawned on me that my parents would not welcome Natasha. Worse yet, they had probably call the police and blame her for her every misfortune.
I turned off the television and then asked Natasha to listen to my every word. Then, I told her what I needed to say. "Natasha, you know very well that I care about you. However, there is something very important that I had inadvertently forgotten. My parents are not the hospitable type, especially my mother. Spend the night here and then leave early in the morning. I will go with you to the police station. Do not be afraid. The world is slowly but surely becoming aware of the existence of this horrible enterprise." I reached underneath the bed then grabbed hold of a brown envelope. I pulled it up and then opened it. After removing a thousand dollars in twenty-dollar denominations, I handed it to her. "Natasha, I'm rich, so don't be shy or afraid to take this money. One thousand dollars will not buy you a house, but it will help you on the path to semblance of a normal life. What's more, you can apply for refugee status in this country. Tell the police that you have valuable information for the Attorney General of the United States. Give them as much inside information about the horrible enterprise that you can. More so, remember your friends. Unless they’ve died, their horror stories continue.”
“Gosh, thanks a lot, Jason. I promise that I will go straight to the police. But, can I ask you for one small favour please ... can I sleep next to you, I’m so scared?” I nodded my head in agreement. “Thanks, you’re the best cat in the whole world, and I’m not just saying that to please you, I really mean it. You deserve a big medal for the help you have given me. Thanks, soon many of those scum bags who torment innocent women and children will find themselves on the run, terrified and defenceless.”
We closed our eyes, instantly falling asleep. The joy I felt at having been able to help Natasha relaxed me considerably, so much so I overslept, awakening at noon. When I rubbed the crust out of my eyes and fully regained my faculties, it dawned on me that I had forgotten to turn on my alarm clock.
However, there was more, Natasha was gone. I cropped up my ears, focused my vision, and sniffed intently. When this failed, I used my incredible internal feline senses; unfortunately, I could not detect her presence. I leaped off my bed and then exited my room. I searched diligently for Natasha, all to no avail. Then, it dawned on me that perhaps she awakened to use the restroom and then accidentally returned to my parent’s bedroom.
I galloped to my parent’s room and then stealthily entered it. The room was empty, and the bed did not have a crease in it. I approached the bed and then leaped onto it. The bed cover and the pillows did not have a single crease on them, the way my parents demand of my bed’s appearance every single morning.
I went back to my room. I had one last straw to grab, my bathroom. However, on my way there I stepped on a sheet of paper. I could not help but notice that it looked like a letter. I had no other option but to read it.
Dear Jason:
We left you this letter on short notice because we received some sad news concerning your uncle Thomas Abbott, the younger brother of your beloved father. Uncle Thomas passed away last night. Our in-laws told us that it was a massive heart attack. Your father and I will be gone for several days. We are in Pittsburgh. Our phone number is 555-447-9120. You have our email addresses. If therès an emergency send us a message, tweet, or call us.
Honey, be a good little kitty, okay. Your father and I do not want you to stay out late, or to watch questionable programs on television. We like you so much!”
Best of Regards,
Mommy and Daddy
I only saw Uncle Thomas once. However, from that single meeting I wholeheartedly felt that he was unlike my father.
Uncle Thomas was a very friendly, relaxed sort of person. I could tell by the way he treated me he was full of love. Frankly, every-so-often I would wish Uncle Thomas had been my biological father. His wife Dana was also very friendly. I was also happy about my temporary newfound freedom. I literally had the apartment to myself.
After a short period of pondering and head clearing, I re-read my parents’ letter. When I reached the end of the letter, I discovered what that nagging thing was. Once again, my parents used the word ‘like’ to describe their feelings towards me. Never mind, the intensity of the word under the context, I was hoping that they would use the other ‘L’ word. I dropped the letter from my paw and then left the room. I spent the whole day outside walking around, sitting and pondering, and then I headed back, arriving home at 9:00 P.M.
The following six days passed without incident or any unusual occurrence. My parents sent me an email at least once a day, and they called me twice. However, it was their last call that I decided to go ahead and tell them about what I did for Natasha. Somehow, I was hoping that my parents would react positively, that somewhere in their hearts there was an inkling of mercy and humanity. The call came in at 10:00 P.M. I was lying down in bed watching television. Our home phone rang three times before I picked it up. Because we have caller I.D., I knew who was calling beforehand.
“Hello, Jason, what have you been up to?”
“Mom, I’m just watching television. It is so calm and quiet here I have been sleeping earlier and longer, there was no one to talk to. When did you say you were going to return home?”
“Honey, we’re coming back home tomorrow, probably about noon time or a little later. We attended Uncle Thomas’ funeral service. There were many people there, most of the women were crying. The men wore sombre expressions on their faces. Uncle Thomas was a renowned and respected surgeon. However, as things go, death does not discriminate between the good and the bad, nor the handsome and the ugly. When your time comes, it’s over.”
“Mom, can you put me on speaker phone. I have something very important to tell you and dad.”
“Okay, honey, say what you must.” I described in perfect detail what ensued regarding Natasha. “Jason, how dare you! That young woman probably chose to be a ‘working girl’. The pity story is a cover up. I have heard about these people before. She probably gave you a pity story, shedding crocodile tears and more.”
“Mom, that’s not what she's like, Natasha is a victim. She was telling the truth and I wholeheartedly believed her.”
My father shoved himself into the conversation. “Jason, listen up, you're a young cat that needs to learn a lot about life, and most certainly about the birds and the bees. This Natasha girl likely defrauded you out of your money. Did you give her any of your money? Besides, we are not the saviours of the world. You should have left her where she was. I am not being mean or uncaring, really. We do not have time to care about everyone else's problems. We have a multitude of problems in our own household do you understand what I'm saying?"
For a moment, I almost choked on my own saliva. “Dad, umm, no, I didn’t give Natasha any money. In fact she told me that she was going to the authorities to have her tormentors arrested, and she didn’t forget about her friends either.”
“Jason, hypothetically speaking, let’s say Natasha was telling the truth. You should have of left her alone. We all have problems.” Then, my father said something awful. “Besides, she probably liked all the attention from those men. Some women want to be surrounded by men many men, loads of strangers who manifest no love or emotion. These are very naughty women.”
"But dad what about the men, that are paying for these services? Aren't they naughty too?" My father cleared his throat and then gave me a direct answer.
"Jason, no, they're not naughty. These naughty women are seducing them. These poor men cannot help themselves. They are too weak to control their own desires. The last thing they need is someone like this Natasha girl leading them on. Your mother and I do not want you to repeat what you did for Natasha. Furthermore, you’re forbidden to bring any person into our home without the expressed permission of your mother and me."
The rest of our conversation was rife with tension and argument. When I got to the point of no return, I simply hung up the phone and then unplugged it from the wall socket. Afterward, I turned off my mobile phone and went to sleep. I was tossing and turning much of the night, only getting a couple hours of sleep. Nevertheless, I was expecting a ferocious argument as soon as my parents arrived. I had one last night of being alone in the apartment.
My parents arrived the following day at noon. Although I was expecting an avalanche of yelling and screaming, quite the opposite occurred. They gave me the silent treatment. The following morning I took a long walk after breakfast. It was a much-needed walk. I returned at 4:00 P.M., tired and in need of a shower.
I entered my room and then ran to the restroom wherein I took a nice long, hot shower. After drying myself up my feline senses began to warn me of impending danger. I placed my towel on the towel rack and then exited the restroom. I used all of my senses to determine exactly what was wrong.
While studying my room intently I noticed a piece of paper taped on my television screen. I figured it was a note from my parents. Perhaps, they forgave me and wanted to make amends? That would have been very nice. I walked to my television and then snatched the piece of paper off the screen. Upon turning the paper, I realized that it was a letter. However, before I could read it my mobile rang. The letter could wait the call could not.
I leaped onto my bed and then took hold of my mobile and pressed the appropriate icons. “Hello, who am I speaking to?”
“Honey, Jason, it’s me, Natasha. I just wanted to tell you the good news. Thus far, I have given the FBI, state, and local police over a dozen useful leads regarding sex trafficking in the U.S. and abroad. They gave me a reward. In three months, I will become a legal resident of the United States, thereby initiating the immigration process.
Everything is just fine here. The FBI will be taking me to my new home. I have to change my name and venue. I am in the witness protection program. Jason thanks for helping me. I just found this out. An FBI agent informed me that when a sex slave knows too much, her tormentors kill her. These people like to cover their tracks and will do anything to do so.
Jason, I think you are the most incredible and wonderful cat in the whole world. No, that is not all; you are the most incredible person in the whole world. I think you deserve the medal of honour, the Nobel Prize, and all the other medals and honours the world community offers. I want you to know that you have been instrumental in aiding the authorities. Do not worry, I did not tell anyone that you helped me. I told the authorities that my tormentors accidentally left the apartment door open so I did what any sane person would do me promptly escaped.
Please, never ever tell anyone that you were involved in this case. Doing so will jeopardize your own life and that of your parents. Honey, these people love to harm others. They will kill your parents first, and it will not be a slow death too. I will always remember you. Jason, I love you ever so dearly. I hope you love me too.”
Natasha was right in calling me. As soon as I turned off my mobile the ominous feeling that I had before the phone call returned. Worse yet, why did I smell human blood? This was a red flag. More so, my feline senses were now indicating death, death. Who died?