Those words were the final blow for Alisa. He hadn’t just betrayed her, he had blamed her. He shifted the responsibility for their own cruelty onto her.
— Get in the car, — Zoya Pavlovna commanded her son. — Let’s go, or the barbecue will get cold.
Denis, like an obedient puppet, turned and walked to the driver’s door. He didn’t look back. Not once. Zoya Pavlovna got into the front seat, casting a victorious glance at her victim. She slammed the door. The engine roared to life. The white crossover, her car, bought with her money, slowly started moving, picking up speed. Alisa watched it go until it became a small dot and disappeared around a bend.
And then she was alone. Alone on an empty highway in the middle of a forest, with a tearing pain in her stomach and a heart shattered to pieces. For a few moments, the world narrowed to the sound of the wind in her ears and the frantic beating of her own heart. She sank to the ground, curling into a ball. Who were they? People who had used her kindness, lived at her expense, and ultimately left her to die on the road.
The pain returned. Sharp, unbearable. Alisa realized that if she gave in to despair now, she would really die here. No one would find her. No one would help. This thought, like an electric shock, forced her to pull herself together. She would not die. She would not give them that satisfaction. She would live. Live to see them pay for everything.
Overcoming the pain, she crawled to her handbag. Her hands were shaking, her fingers wouldn’t obey. She struggled to unzip it and took out her phone. The screen was cracked from when Zoya Pavlovna threw the bag, but it worked. Thank God, it worked. She looked at the battery level. 20%. It would be enough. It had to be enough.
First, she dialed 112, the single emergency number.
— Emergency services, how can I help you? — a calm female voice answered.
— Ma’am, please help me, — Alisa rasped. — I’m on highway M14, heading south. They kicked me out of a car. I think I have appendicitis.
— Please calm down. What’s your name?
— Belova.
— Alisa, can you describe more precisely where you are? Any landmarks?
— I don’t know. A forest. We passed the sign for Vilnohirsk. About 10–15 kilometers back.
— Understood. Turn on the geolocation on your phone, we’ll try to find you. An ambulance is already on its way. Stay on the line.
Alisa, following the instructions, turned on her data. Then she found her brother’s number in her contacts. Misha. Her only hope. She pressed call.
— Yeah, Alis, — he answered almost immediately. — Why weren’t you answering? I was starting to worry.
— Misha… — her voice broke. — They… they abandoned me.
She told him everything. About the pain, the mother-in-law’s ultimatum, about how Denis silently watched as she was dragged out of the car. She spoke haltingly, interrupted by pain, but her brother listened without interrupting.
When she finished, there was a few seconds of silence on the line. Alisa even thought the call had dropped.
— Misha, are you there?
— I’m here, — his voice was quiet. But in that quietness, there was such fury that it scared Alisa. — Alis, listen to me. You did well to call the ambulance. That’s the first thing. Second: the car. Whose name is it registered in?
— Mine.
— Excellent. Just excellent. — He chuckled, but it was a grim laugh. — Alright. When the police arrive…
— What police?
— They’ll come with the ambulance, it’s standard procedure. When they arrive, you will file a report. First: under Article 125 of the Criminal Code, “Leaving in danger.” Second: under Article 166, “Unlawful possession of a vehicle without intent to steal.” Car theft, basically.
— Car theft? But it’s Denis…
— He had no right to drive away in your car without your consent, leaving you, its owner, in a life-threatening condition. It’s car theft, Alis. Plain and simple. Do you understand me?
— Yes.
— I’m already on my way. I’ll be at the Vilnohirsk hospital in an hour, an hour and a half. Hang in there, little sister. Just hang in there. We will bury them, I promise you.
He hung up. Alisa dropped the phone onto the grass. Her brother’s words gave her strength. She wasn’t alone. She had Misha. He knew what to do. She lay on the roadside, looking up at the high blue sky. The pain didn’t subside, but the fear receded. In its place came a cold, ringing fury. They thought they had broken her. They thought she would cry and beg for mercy. They were wrong. She would not cry. She would fight. And she would win.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a siren could be heard. It grew louder, closer. Help was near. The sound of the siren, piercing and insistent, pulled Alisa from a viscous semi-consciousness. She opened her eyes and saw a white car with a red stripe appear from around the bend. An ambulance. They had found her.
The vehicle stopped a few meters away, and two people got out: a doctor, an elderly man with tired eyes, and a young nurse.
— Miss, how are you? — the doctor knelt beside her and began a quick examination.
— My stomach hurts, — Alisa whispered.
— Where exactly? Show me.
She struggled to lift her hand and pointed to her right side. The doctor gently but firmly pressed her abdomen in several places. Alisa cried out when his fingers touched a spot just below her navel on the right.
— Alright, I see. — He straightened up. — Looks like acute appendicitis. Take her blood pressure, — he told the nurse, — and get the stretcher ready.
The nurse was already setting up the blood pressure monitor. She was very young, with frightened eyes, and looked at Alisa with such sympathy that Alisa wanted to cry again. But she held back. It was not the time for tears.
— Who left you here? — the doctor asked while the nurse was putting the cuff on her arm. — Your husband?
— And my mother-in-law, — Alisa replied.
— How so? — he raised his eyebrows.
— They didn’t believe I was sick. They said I was faking it.
— And?
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