Post by STASJA NADEAH BEREZIN on Aug 10, 2012 21:30:53 GMT -5
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AND MAKE IT A BEAUTIFUL MELODY
FIRST MIDDLE LAST
YOU'D BE MY REMEDY
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Twenty one ,.,., Ex-CIA ,.,., employment depends on the week ,.,., Amber Heard
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AND MAKE IT A BEAUTIFUL MELODY
FIRST MIDDLE LAST
YOU'D BE MY REMEDY
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Twenty one ,.,., Ex-CIA ,.,., employment depends on the week ,.,., Amber Heard
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“Now, Miss Berezin, you are a native of Russia, correct?”
Stasja’s face did not change, save for a flicker of movement near the end of her right brow. She wasn’t sure whether to be frustrated or amused at the moment, thought she knew that her overall reaction should have been and would be angry. However she could not help the other two emotions at the moment. Hadn’t they heard her? She hadn’t gone easy, she’d gotten pulled in swearing her head off in Russia. She just wished that she’d been more focused at that moment, if she had been she would not have been here at all.
The man across from her continued to look on expectantly, and Stasja looked back. She made no move to speak, and for a few minutes neither did he. It wasn’t like this was actually about her being in the country illegally. She’d been in this country illegally for seven years and no one had ever bothered her before. Wait, no, that was a lie. No one had bothered her before the last year.
“You could make this a lot quicker for all of us.”
“I’m not in a rush. You know where I’m from, you know who I am.” She watched him nod a little and then write something down on the paper in front of him. She assumed it was under country of origin and the word was Russia. That was true. Something else that was probably going to be written down on the paper was the number of years she’d been here, seven, and also that she was unemployed for those seven years. That was a lie.
“It says you were born in Moscow, is that correct?”
Stasja nodded at that. She had been. It hadn’t been a great life, they’d been very poor and a sizable group. A mother, a father, two sons, and three daughters, making quite the number on a limited salary. Her father had worked as a waiter and her mother had cleaned houses. They lived in a small apartment but managed to make due with what they had. She had been relatively happy, mostly because she wasn’t so aware in those early years of the have and the have not. Stasja was the fourth child, so things had already been spread pretty thin by the time she came along. Unlike her oldest sister she did not have to learn to take care of herself or others at a young age, but she did learn half of that regardless. She’d always been fiercely independent, determined to see to her own needs. She wanted to tie her own shoes instead of letting Tatiana do it, cut her own food instead of her parents. It really hadn’t been an awful life.
“Did you come to this country to work?”
Stasja considered that for a moment. That answer was complicated. Two weeks after her fourteenth birthday her father had been killed in a car accident. It was said to be a car accident but honestly it had been a hit and run. He had come out of work and was struck by a car. With the family income more than halved all of the children of an age immediately scrambled to find work. Tatianna found work as a maid with their mother, and Halina found a job working at a fast food restaurant. Artemi seemed to do the best, and at sixteen found work helping to repave roads. Still between the funeral and other costs they seemed to still be drowning in debt. That was when Stasja herself received an offer. On her way home from school she ran into a man who offered her work. He told her that if she left with him he’d be able to pay her a lot of money to bring back to her family after a little while. It was only temporary and it seemed like the solution to all of the problems that the fourteen year old Stasja could understand. So she accepted, said nothing, packed a bag one night and left with the fake passport she’d been given. She had no idea what she’d really done.
“Yes, but that did not work out.”
He’d picked her up from the airport and driven her across town to a dingy looking building and led her inside. On that first floor she saw a couple of younger girls and some older men. The former were dressed gaudily, cheaply, and skimpily, which was better than the latter. They were bloated looking to her and their hands hovered as if just waited to reach out and grab. Immediately uncomfortable she had tried to stop in her place and talk to the man who had talked her into coming here. She didn’t get the chance. At her first sign of hesitation he shoved her towards the stairs. She stumbled but caught herself, and then her mind became extremely clear. She turned quickly and struck out at him, able to get right in under his ribs due to her stature compared to his. She pushed him back down, practically throwing herself against him to do it. Then she threw her bag through the window, and the glass shattered. Stasja turned towards to room, furious, to see stunned looking girls and already fleeing men.
“So you’ve been unemployed for that time?”
The cops had been called, and Stasja had been taken in just like everyone else. However, as they were processed through she’d been taken aside. Though wary, she listened, and that was when the offer came. The CIA, training, a home, some money, those were all things that she figured she could work with. So she had accepted it, and she’d done well. Then a year ago they terminated her. It had been a shock, and she’d been wandering trying to find work ever since.
“Yes.”
It was the only answer she could give. The man across from her looked sympathetic at that point.
“Would you like anything to drink? Maybe some water?”
Stasja nodded and the man got up. He left the room but she heard the faint click of the lock behind her. He’d locked her in, she wasn’t surprised. Then again, he had no idea who she really was. That was solace at least, and that was her out. She knew that her records had been locked, maybe even wiped by the CIA. She was just a wanderer to him, and this was her chance to get out.
Stasja got up slowly, looking around her to make sure that no one was watching. She knew there were security cameras, but that didn’t matter. She’d be long gone by the time they checked them. She walked over behind his desk and stood up on his chair. There was the vent. She looked down at the desk for something to use, and there it was, right next to a family photo including the people who had to be his wife and two children. She reached down and grabbed the opener, quickly using it as a makeshift screwdriver. She opened the vent, glanced around one more time for good measure, and then pulled herself up and into the vent. She put the cover back on as best as she could and then headed for whatever exit she could find.
Maybe it was time to use those contacts.
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Gwyri ,.,., twenty two ,.,., adminedit ,.,., none
Gwyri ,.,., twenty two ,.,., adminedit ,.,., none
lyrics from sing it out; switchfoot
this little thing was made by
dragonwick over on caution,
or rach ?! on little white lie.
don't steal! keep the credit on.
this little thing was made by
dragonwick over on caution,
or rach ?! on little white lie.
don't steal! keep the credit on.
