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Alina Markov worked with a Russian mob when her life takes a sideways turn for the worst. |
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Alina always knew she would get herself in trouble; but she didn't think it'd be her life! These thoughts ran through her head as she ran down the dock, her boots pounding on the wood as she ran to the boat that would take her somewhere else: America. Through her thin shirt you could see the spiraled triangular shape that was tattooed between her shoulder blades. She wore black skinny jeans and knee high boots that made her feet ache as she ran. Her nearly white blonde hair was whipped in the wind as she grabbed the handle and pounded up the ramp, her duffel banging against her hip. "Ah, Alina, just in time," the man greeted her, his accent thick as he spoke to her in broken English. "Yes," she replied in the same fashion, her accent much lighter, almost gone. "Where will I stay?" "This way to your cabin," he said, leading her down to the hall to the cabins. He unlocked the door and it swung open. "Rest up. Dinner is in two hours." He shut the door behind her as she walked in and she spun around at the ominous slam. "Brilliant," she muttered, dropping her bag next to the bed, her backpack was next, landing on the mattress itself. She pushed her hair out of her face and groaned. She was staring into space when a bell rang, and then footsteps could be heard walking up the stairs. Alina stood, brushing herself off before pulling a leather jacket out of her backpack and putting it on. She went upstairs and smelled food cooking. "Oh..." she murmured, looking around. The refugees were mostly children, and the elderly, she noted. "Where are the parents and teenagers?" "My mommy told me that she and my daddy would see me when they arrived," a small girl said, smiling a toothy grin. "Look, I lost my front tooth!" she seemed so happy. "What's your name?" Alina asked the girl, sitting near her. "Veronika!" the girl giggled. "Mommy and Daddy always called me Nika!" The girl had black hair and bright blue eyes, her skin was smooth and flawless; the look of a young child. "How old are you, Veronika?" "This many!" she held up eight fingers and Alina felt her heart constrict. "Is anyone with you?" she asked her, scanning the crowd for someone who could be guarding the child. As she spoke, Veronika's face darkened. "No," she whispered. "My brother was caught as he ran on...." "Well, I'm here now," Alina said, "and I won't leave you." |
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