The Driver

CHAPTER 15 Izabela

                                   Izabela

            I ran away from him like a coward. I had run away from happiness and I would never forgive myself. He was a wonderful man and he deserved the chance at happiness. I was in love with him and yet I was always running away from him.

        I did not think I would have such strong feelings for him. I was very good at running.

        Running away from love, from pleasure, from happiness. Running away from myself and all that I could live with joy. What woman would do that? Probably just one as crazy as me.

        Surely only a crazy woman could have done that. I knew that if I told him I wanted to leave sooner, he would try to stop me, which is why I preferred to leave without any explanation.

        I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did not know if I would really be happy with him.

        I was going to make certain decisions and the desperate tremor of fear of the unknown seemed to take over my thoughts and leave me with no energy. One night was not enough to understand if I could put my trust in him.

        I had once trusted a man who supposed to be my husband. A man who destroyed everything good I had in me.

        I believed in him and his love until the last moment. I thought he would spare my life and not leave me prey to vultures. I believed in his promises, even when I knew what he was going to do with me.

        But that's how I was, naive and confident. Marcel was doing human organ trafficking. He was one of the most targeted people in the world. He was on the blacklist of the authorities and yet he was always free without being arrested.

        All the rich people requested his help when their family members needed a transplant. He had a well-organized network and could not be shot down by anyone.

        Interpol and the FBI had been after him for some time, but they could not catch him red-handed, always being one step behind him.

        He had too many people around him and it is possible that a large part of them infiltrated Interpol, the FBI, or his direct accomplices in all the business he did. He had people at his feet who paid with prison or sometimes even with their lives for what he was doing or if they didn't do what he was telling them to do.

        Once in prison, they were killed by Marcel's men who were infiltrated there to harvest all their organs that were to be sold on the black market. He was not married because he lured women into his life to harvest their eggs. Yes, he was doing that, too, among the other businesses he ran.

        The eggs were in high demand because of infertility that took over the entire world. Infertility that was increasingly occurring among middle-aged women, but also young ones.

        It was because of the eccentric lifestyle they had, either because of excessive abortions in their youth or because of natural causes.   

        He had a very well-organized network for this, and his clients were normal people or even personalities from the fashionable world willing to pay a big amount of money for the services he offered.

        After the eggs were harvested, their organs were sold, because that is what Marcel did. He did not stop and was not satisfied only with the extraction of the eggs. Not! He was doing his job until the end.

        It all started with looking for certain women who followed the same pattern for his crazy vision. Single, helpless women without much schooling. Where could Marcel find and lure these helpless women?

        In the countryside, he had his egg and organ farm there, as he liked to call that environment. I can say that for Marcel, the rural environment was like a farm for him because he looked for them, he found them, he helped them in the most difficult moments of their lives either with money, with food, or any small renovation through their houses.

        Just like when you raise chickens from those white meat. You take them from when they are small, you stuff them with everything, you raise them and then sell them, either they are alive or dead. I know, it is a bit of an idiotic comparison but one that exactly reflects his typology of choosing his victims.

        What did it mean for Marcel to spend a few hundred euros when he knew the time would come when his hundreds spent would become an unimaginable profit of at least five zeros? A piece of cake.

        Instead, those helpless women appreciated his gesture and considered him a saving angel, without ever having the slightest suspicion that the angel was opening the gates of hell for them. When they were ready, he would bring his victim to his house, to one of the houses he was using as a screen for his black business.

        Black as his soul was. The poor of them had no idea that their dream of having a good life would end their lives in a very short time.

        And since the organized crime, like a business, can never be conducted without certain accomplices, Marcel always had an assistant hired at his home undercover. She worked as a housekeeper, but that job served as a screen for monitoring every woman who came into the house to let Marcel know when the fertile day was coming.

        He would then prepare a romantic dinner and put sleeping pills in their drinks. He was then called a team of doctors to harvest their eggs. None of them suspected anything and all were content with the luxury life they were having with him.

        Marcel's every relationship with his victims lasted six months. He offered them everything, including a false and blind relationship just to capture the attention and naivete that shone in their eyes when they saw themselves escaped from that gloomy poverty in which they lived.

        Sometimes it happened that some of those women had an allergy to the drugs that were administered to them without their knowledge. When this happened, some of them died there in his house under the vain effort of doctors to save their lives, and then they were harvesting their organs to sell them on the black market.  

        Other times he paid people desperate because of their financial problems to sell certain organs. He usually looked for people using the same criteria by which he seduced his egg donors.

        Homeless and desperate people. People who thought that God had long forgotten about them until an angel named Marcel got in their way. Each time he tried to find the poorest so as not to pay too much.

        That's what he was doing, he was telling them they would donate a kidney, instead, the doctors were harvesting all organs leaving them breathless. The homeless were disappearing more and more, but there was no one to worry about them or declare their disappearance. That's how he became a billionaire.

        A few hundred euros and get rid of them. However, they had no idea that in fact, they would never wake up from the anesthesia applied to them for organ extraction.

        Without any effort and no mercy to the people who were dying. The important thing was for him to achieve his goal. He did the same to me until I became a good friend with Claudia, the housekeeper who was an undercover nurse.

        That is because of Marcel's father who was willing to help me disappear. The same housekeeper I paid to pay attention to the gossip of the wives of those who served Marcel. She knew very well what was going on and I can say that I am grateful that she did not say anything to Marcel.

        Helping me and betraying Marcel in my favor made it clear to me that she was not there being bound by Marcel but only for money. Her motives did not matter much, what mattered to me was that she was my guardian angel.

        I had somehow become dear to her and she wanted to help me get out of there, but she could not risk her life, not even for the money I was offering her. She confessed everything to me three months after the first egg harvesting.

        I had been part of Marcel's macabre plan. The problem, however, was another. I had an extremely rare cell in my body that could cure the cancer cell. As cancer became a very widespread disease in the world, Marcel would probably have gotten even richer because of me.

        I had already had a sample taken and after being analyzed by several doctors it was introduced into the body of a cancer patient. He recovered two weeks after the operation.

        Claudia warned me that I had to get out of that house as soon as possible because Marcel was planning to take me to a private clinic in England where he would keep me locked up forever. She explained to me that I would never go out from there.

        I will become their laboratory rat until my being no longer exists. Lucky for me, he needed me alive. At least I knew I was going to live; I had not thought about the torments that would follow. Marcel's father had a well-developed plan to get out of that environment- but I had to be patient, which scared me a lot because I did not know how long I was going to last.

        I knew my life was in danger, but at the same time very precious to Marcel. I could not believe I was blind enough to get into his dirty game. He had been so attentive to detail that I never suspected of doing such terrible things.

        He was a manipulator, an emotional blackmailer who used my weaknesses to lure me into the nets of what I called love. I had to pretend I had no idea so as not to destroy his father's escape plan.

        It was getting harder and harder for me to smile at him when in fact I wanted to take a knife and cut every inch of his skin. I wanted to see him suffer and beg me to spare his life. I wanted to remove every organ from his body until his last breath, just as he did with the others.

        To see him lose his life and make him feel what all his victims have felt. But without anesthesia. To feel the bastard, to be able to see how every organ is removed.

        When I was seeing him next to me in bed, I wanted to crush his testicles and cut his p***s, and put it in his mouth until he suffocated and ran out of air.

        I was going crazy at how many scenes I had in my head and I was horrified at how sadistic I could be. I had to be patient, to resist a little longer. All I had to do was to put my life in his father's hands.

        No other alternative for me in those moments, my life was sealed anyway, so I had better trust him with my eyes closed. Pain and fear intertwined in my body, my vision blurred every time I saw or felt his breath touch my skin, my blood boiled like a volcano that was ready to erupt. And me? I had to be patient.