For a week she could neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep. I understood what it means to sit on death row. Even death is still a relief, no matter how strange it sounds. Hung between being and non-being.

In the morning I was pleased that, it turns out, my hated rapist saved my life because I was ordered by some kind of sect. I immediately understood what lay ahead for me if it were not for him. God had no choice but to send this scumbag. The time was a minute before the fire. Glory to you, Lord!

There was a completely unfamiliar feeling of awe. I fell asleep and woke awake. A customer arrived, they untied me, began to look at me.

- You smile, that's good. Agree to work?

I nodded my head. In principle, I had no other way out. My new mistress gave the pack of bucks to the driver, and only now I noticed on his neck an inverted crucifix on a black strap. So he was the customer of me.

The inclined shaven skull with bulging ears stood counting the banknotes, then turned away and walked closer to the light bulb, closing the light to us.

The hostess touched my hands. Quickly led me to him, showing my hands.

- Dislocations and torn ligaments. What are you sick me vtyuhivaesh?

He waved it off and continued counting the money.

“Here's the bitch that slips,” she whispered and holding my hands, shot her foot in the back of his head. He fell. Raised uncounted money. There was a car in the street. She opened the trunk, called me, showed me the 5-liter canister, and I staggered to the wooden cottage, in the basement of which I was held.

She poured gasoline on the wheels of the rotten “bat” nine, climbed the steps into the corridor and began to pour gas on it. Lew gasoline, backing into the corridor, looked up, and it was already burning, I realized that the Hostess did it, leaving a burning lighter in my wake.

There was a terrible crash, the smoke covered the eyes, bent down, ran to the window in the corridor, opened it, a crazy pull pulled the frame out of my hands, shattered glass shattered. In steaming clothes, she crawled out onto the window sill and, grouping (thanks to our physical teacher, taught her for a reason), her back fell on a lilac bush, slipped to the ground. The window immediately flashed flames. She went to the barrel of rainwater, dived into her face to the waist. Clothes no longer burned.

The hostess coolly smoked at the wound up car and, probably, was surprised at my tricks in the life safety program. Wet, jumped into the open trunk. Go. I did not understand what was happening, but the car was driving for a long time. I heard the sound of wheel overhang, I thought, this is a railway, so who the hell knows where!

* * *

Before me was the Mistress.

- Here are your clothes. You will work on it on call. They'll take your tests now. If you are normal, you will start the day after tomorrow, and if not ... you will go to the track.

- Thank God, not on the organs, - and only I thought to myself how the question followed:

- Jaundice hurt?

- Jaundice and salmonellosis, I clarified (I already knew about it, thanks to the Internet).

- Then exactly on the track.

- Still, this bitch also bargains for death, - I thought.

* * *

“You're clean while you live here.” And so as not to run away, tomorrow you will go "to the garden".

Old rusty "Volga". Behind the wheel of a hairy man with a mustache. Hoarse voice.

- Well, poblyadushki - errands, let's go!

Horrible bumpy road. The two of us sit in the backseat, she whispers me in her ear about her attempt to tell her parents about herself on the phone.

Her client was already asleep, and her mobile was on. I typed a sms to my friend that I was stolen, a sex slave, etc. This noodle decided that I was kidding ... I smashed all the networks, what a prankster I am. Like this. Then the client on a drink has been let loose by the Hostess. Now you will bury me alive in the cemetery ...

We arrived. Tall trees, dark even during the day, fern, on the graves are inscriptions with firm signs, as before the revolution.Around scary curves mossy crosses. Crypts excavated, scattered bones and skulls.

Two short meter shovels and two unhappy. Width - shovel, length and depth - two. The car left. They chose a dry place, began to dig, and my “deceased” told how the girls disappear, in general dug and roared from our terrible fate.

Evening. Dug up the grave, laid out with grass and leaves. It's cold and dark. Also scary. The man did not come. They climbed into a hole, embraced, covered themselves with branches with leaves. Some sounds, branches seem to be someone's hands. Horror incredible.

Suddenly they felt someone's look ... they screamed so ... that, probably, the ghost was scared to death ... they fell asleep just before dawn.

* * *

The morning deep sleep of two frozen girls through the branches and leaves began to disturb the falling pieces of earth. Through the slumber, someone falls asleep on the ground, both frantically shouting and jumping out with frantic hearts beating. A smiling man with a shovel rather croaked:

- Good science, whores?

* * *