December 4th
Chapter 4 — Secrets Whispered
They met in the bathroom.
It was the only place without cameras. Cracked tiles, rust around the taps, and a smell of mildew that clung to the back of her throat. But in here, they could talk.
Tanya perched on the sink unit while Marta leaned against the door, arms crossed, always watching. Kateryna sat on the closed toilet lid, the newspaper open on her lap.
“Look at this,” she said, tapping the photo.
MSP Alastair Grant stared up at them, mid-speech, all conviction and crocodile sincerity. Beneath his face, it read: “MSP Opposes ‘Unbuyable’ Bill: ‘Criminalising Men Hurts Women Most’.”
Tanya took the paper and squinted in the dim light. “I’ve seen him. The Parliament guy.”
Marta leaned in. Her face sharpened like a blade. “He likes pain. The kind you carry for days.”
Kateryna sat down beside them. “He’s one of the ones trying to stop the prostitution bill. Says it’ll harm us. But he comes here, doesn’t he?”
Tanya scoffed. “They all do. They are the system.”
Kateryna nodded. “Then let’s use that. All of it.”
Marta looked up sharply. “Use it how?”
“First,” Kateryna said, her voice low, “we need to know who else has been here.”
Marta tapped the paper. “Knowing things is dangerous. Remember Bohdana?”
They all did. Her body had washed up in the canal two months ago. Reported as just another prostitute, but word was, she’d started asking questions.
“She thought she was careful,” Marta added. “She wasn’t.”
Tanya bit her lip. “Still. If we got photos of him here—of Grant—we could blackmail him.”
“I’m not looking for money,” said Kateryna. “I want to do more than scare him.”
They were both watching her now. The silence stretched.
Kateryna hesitated, then leaned in, her voice almost a whisper. She told them. Not everything. Just enough.
Tanya’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re mad,” she said, but there was something else there too. A glimmer.
Marta didn’t speak right away. She stared at Kateryna for a long time, weighing something.
“I’m in,” Tanya said at last.
Marta hesitated longer. Then she nodded once. “But if we’re doing this, let’s do it properly. You’ll need help.”
“I’ll need more than that,” Kateryna said. “We need proof. Names. Dates. Someone on the outside.”
Tanya stared at the mould-stained ceiling. “You want help from one of them?”
“Not all of them are the same.” Marta paused. “There’s one who comes here regularly. He doesn’t want sex. Just… company. He talks. Listens. Asks about my childhood.”
Tanya said, “You mean the Cuddler?”
“The Cuddler?,” Kateryna said, remembering him. “Shy guy.”
“He’s a journalist,” Marta said. “Local. He might be the kind who wants to help.”
Tanya gave a low whistle. “You trust him?”
“No,” Marta said. “But I trust that he wants to matter. And right now, we need someone who does.”
Tanya said, “Then you’d better talk to him. But be careful.”
Kateryna looked down at the article again. The smile. The lie. The power.
She folded it into her waistband and stood.
Careful was exactly what she planned to be.
