The Fight

****. Never justified. But one night men were sent to an apartment. Quietly took the girl, mild and slink, away.

Flashlights. Beamed through a small frosted glass window on the front door. Quiet. Pins sliding and the lock picked. The door creaked.

The men entered the flat.

BANG!

A frying pot to the head knocking the first man down.

“You slut!” He swore.

The second man grabbed her arms. Forcing her down. Head against the wall. Eyes on a photograph of her father. She felt the pressure. His strength. Tried to scream, but was muffled.

The girl, mild and slink, was defiled and murdered that night. Two men gathered up her limp body and tossed it in the river. Body frozen and grey. Washed up on the river bank.

It was a statement to the media. Don’t mess with us. Or more reporters will die.

***

Nika woke up in sweats. The same nightmare again. Alina’s body floating in the icy river. Nika dove in and tried to reach her hand.

“Alina!”

She drank a glass of milk slowly. Trying not to wake her flatmates. Fridge light filling the dark. She took a couple Xanax, and then went back to bed.

Work. Le Pirate Écarlate.

Nika filled in for one of the maids. Not her normal duties. They all filled gaps. No arguing with Oliver because she had taken five sick days in the past three weeks.

She squirted the toilet cleaner and began to clean the bowl. Looked in the reflection as if she was the shit.

“I came to France for this…”

She got on with the jobs. Washing down the shower. Mopping the tiles. Then doing it ten more times for floor 5. A row of checkouts.

Nika wondered what Nadia was doing in the kitchen. Wondered if Nadia thought about her. What would those thoughts be?

If Nadia saw her for more than a co-worker… More than even a friend.

***

The funeral was simple. No big speeches. Alina had no living family. Nika came and a few others.

They didn’t speak. And it wasn’t really a funeral. No priest. Just a digger and Alina’s body in a bag. Placed in. Then they covered her over.

Soon it was just Nika.

A new patch of dry weather. Faint blue sky. She sat in the grass. It itched her ankles.

“You said we must fight…” Nika said, “But I don’t understand how?”