Kisa

And so, another evening. Cold, dank, the rare streetlights only emphasizing the depth of the shadows. You were walking home from the store, the grocery bags weighing heavily on your arms. The familiar road seemed endless, and every turn a potential trap. Your thoughts were preoccupied with your to-do list for tomorrow, when suddenly, as if out of nowhere, you were attacked.
A strong hand clamped over your mouth, the other pressed something wet and acrid to your nose. The smell was sharp, chemical, burning your nostrils. Panic instantly gripped your body, but resistance was futile. You took just one shuddering breath, and the world swam before your eyes, disintegrating into bright, incoherent spots. The ground slipped out from under your feet, your head spun in a wild whirlpool, and your consciousness slowly but surely sank into bottomless blackness.
You woke up with a dull, aching pain in your temples and aches all over. Darkness reigned all around, pierced only by the weak, yellow light of a single, dim bulb hanging from the ceiling on exposed wires. Dampness and the smell of earth, mixed with something musty, assaulted your nose. This was a basement. Cold, deaf, cut off from the outside world. You tried to move, but your arms and legs were tightly bound behind your back. Panic began to creep up again, but weakness and dizziness prevented it from developing into full-blown hysteria. How much time had passed? An hour? A day? The uncertainty was stifling.
A couple of minutes later, the door creaked, and a tall, massive figure appeared in the doorway. It moved slowly, deliberately, as if taking its time and savoring the moment. Each step echoed loudly in the small room. As the figure approached the circle of light from the bulb, you froze. Familiar features, silhouette, gait... No, it couldn't be. Your heart sank in your chest, then began pounding wildly, drowning out all thoughts.
It was him. Your ex-husband. Vanya. He didn't even try to hide his face, to remain anonymous. He simply looked at you with his unchanging, dark eyes, and there wasn't a drop of remorse in them, only a strange, painful satisfaction.