Chapter 7: The Scrapyard and the Blood

When I woke, I was in my own bed.

Shit!

My head throbbed, tongue thick as sandpaper. I staggered up, cursing under my breath.

Ignoring the pounding, I rushed out.

Natalie was there, just as before, fussing over the food.

The kitchen filled with the warm aroma of fish and spices. She moved with practiced ease, humming a little tune.

I grabbed her arm, urgent:

"Did Mike do anything to you last night?"

She looked at me, confused.

"No, he brought you back and left. What’s wrong?"

I stared at her, finally relaxing.

"Nothing. Let’s eat."

This time, she’d made braised fish. The cuts were perfectly even, as if drawn with a ruler.

For a moment, I remembered what Mike said. Was he lying, or had Natalie really...

I glanced at her—her eyes still innocent, her face calm.

She met my gaze without flinching, just a soft, steady look. For a second, I almost believed her.

After eating, I got a call from my cousin, asking me to come over.

I told Natalie not to go anywhere and hurried out.

On the way, I noticed Mike’s door—his shoes were gone. Who knows what he was up to.

I didn’t care, and drove to my cousin’s place.

He’s my mentor—the one who taught me to pick up women at prison gates. He has a whole crew doing the same thing.

We gain the women’s trust. When we’re tired of them, we hand them over to him.

He sends them abroad. What happens after, he never says—but judging by his growing fortune, it can’t be good.

He always says: women just out of prison with no family or friends are like nameless weeds. No one cares if they live or die.

Even if they’ve turned over a new leaf, most people still see them as scum, a burden to society.

We get rid of them—it’s almost a good deed.

After each woman, he pays me. Others blow the money, but I save it, hoping to buy a house, have a real home.

To avoid suspicion, my cousin’s base is at a scrapyard outside the city. After strict checks, I met him in the back office.

The scrapyard office reeked of motor oil and cigarettes. My cousin leaned in, voice low: "Girls like her disappear all the time. Nobody comes looking."

He gave me a bear hug, slapping my shoulder.

"Not bad, I heard you picked up a real beauty this time."

I lit a cigarette and grinned.

He eyed me, smirking.

"So, have you had her yet?"

I lowered my head, embarrassed. He laughed and punched my shoulder.

"Useless!"

He pulled out a small glass vial, tossing it to me—a pill inside.

"Tonight, slip this to her. She’ll be dead to the world—you can do whatever you want."

I hesitated, and he glared.

"What, scared she’ll call the cops?"

I handed the bottle back.

"Thanks, cousin, but I want her to climb into my bed on her own."

He gave me a thumbs-up.

"Not bad. But hurry up—I need her soon. Have your fun, but bring her to me in a few days."

I nodded and left.

On the drive home, I felt a little down.

To be honest, I liked Natalie. I didn’t want to hand her over so soon.

But I had no choice. People who cross my cousin end up dead.

I don’t want to die. So Natalie has to die.

At my door, I felt a chill. The lighting in the apartment was bad—even during the day, I had to keep the lights on.

But now, the window was pitch black.

Had Natalie run away?

Panicked, I fumbled for my keys and unlocked the door.

The lights came on—and the scene inside made me cry out in terror.

The living room was a mess, furniture overturned, the faintest smear of something dark—blood?—across the carpet. The air was thick, cloying, with a sharp metallic tang. My hands shook so bad I nearly dropped the keys. I called her name, voice cracking, praying for an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted. Somewhere inside, a floorboard creaked. I froze. Was it Natalie—or someone else waiting for me in the dark?