51. Natalia

51

NATALIA

The pain pulls at me like quicksand. I'm waist-deep in it, but I don't have the energy to fight. Part of me doesn't even want to.

Make it end, I think. I don't want to hurt anymore.

Then there's a furry muzzle pressing into my side, reminding me he's still with me even hours later. The gentle murmurs of familiar voices. Light and darkness folding into one another, shadows that come in waves, then flow back out again.

Pain and grief. Mila and Misha and Andrey.

Crippling anxiety until I can barely breathe. Leonty and Shura and Andrey.

Depression so dark I can't see through it to the other side. And Andrey.

And Andrey.

And Andrey.

"Has she eaten anything today?"

I want to ask him, How long have I been like this? But my mouth won't obey.

"I managed to feed her some soup," Mila responds, her voice coming to me through a haze I can't dispel. "And, like, half a sandwich. Ish."

"Take Remi outside. He needs a walk." Andrey's voice is as commanding as ever, but there's an edge to it that reminds me of shattering glass.

"Remi won't move off her bed. I tried this morning. He refuses to leave her side."

"Get Misha. Remi will move for him."

Eventually, the soft, furry weight at my side disappears. Good. He'll need some fresh air. They both do.

Everyone is taken care of. They don't need me. Maybe everyone would be better off if?—

"Okay, lastochka ," Andrey whispers in my ear. "It's time to come back now."

His hands move gently over my body, and there isn't a single part of me that is scared. His touch is soothing and gentle. Nothing like?—

No.

It hurts too much to think about. It's easier to forget.

But Andrey won't let me. He peels away my clothes like he's afraid I might crumble, and passes a hot towel over my body. It fills me with an aching tranquility.

Life can't be all bad if there are moments like this sprinkled in, can it?

For the first time in too long to remember, I open my eyes.

And Andrey is there, his steady presence, the hypnotic brilliance of his silver-eyed gaze. I blink a few times, marveling that the world is right here in front of me, close enough to touch.

"There you are, little bird," Andrey whispers softly. "I knew you were in there somewhere."

Andrey dries me off and dresses me in clean clothes. Then he tucks me back under the blankets, and Andrey is everywhere.

My cheek is pillowed on his chest. His arms are wrapped tightly around me, and I feel safe. Safe enough to tunnel my way out of the quicksand and take my first few tentative steps out onto solid ground.

"Andrey," I croak. "Wh…where is everyone?"

"I had Shura and Leonty take Misha and Remi out for a few hours. They needed to get out of the manor. Kat and Mila joined them."

The image of all of them together makes me want to smile, but I can't. Not yet. "It's nice that they have each other," I breathe, almost too softly to be heard.

Andrey lifts me up and holds a glass to my lips. "You need to drink something."

I don't realize how thirsty I am until the water hits my tongue. I drink until the glass is gone. When Andrey offers to get me more, I cling to his shirt, silently begging him to stay. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days." His lips brush against my temple. "Do you remember what happened?"

I look down at my hands. My skin is chalky. God only knows how bad the rest of me looks. "Yeah. I remember everything."

"I'm sorry, Natalia."

I've never heard Andrey so broken. That, more than anything, wakes me up. "You had nothing to do with it."

"Viktor is my brother. I should have seen this coming." I flinch at the mention of Viktor's name, and Andrey rests a calming hand on my knee. "He's far away now, Natalia. He won't be able to hurt you anymore."

The silence that falls between us is heavy, drenched with the memory of what could have happened if Misha hadn't been in the right place at the right time.

"How is Misha?"

Andrey doesn't quite meet my eyes when he answers. "Struggling. He feels as though he failed you."

"He didn't. He got me help." I swallow down the emotion crawling up my throat. "He got me you."

"I know that, but he wishes he'd done more."

"Viktor would've hurt Misha for interfering. He has to know—I'll talk to Misha when he gets back," I say. "I'll explain everything."

"Maybe you should start by explaining it to me." Andrey tightens his hold, protecting me from whatever he's going to say next. "You froze, Natalia."

It feels like an accusation. I want to put some distance between us. But I also don't want to move away from his warmth.

"What are you trying to say?"

"That you're not seven years old anymore, stuck in a car while horrible things happen outside of your window."

It feels like a punch to the gut, a breath of fresh air, and a bucket of ice water all rolled into one.

"I need you to be able to fight. I need you to be able to—" His voice breaks, and he reaches for my hand, squeezing it like he's the one sinking into quicksand. "If I hadn't come for you, I don't know what would have happened."

"I know. I know I can't do that, but I don't know how to stop," I whisper. "Every time something bad happens, I revert back to that scared little girl."

His hand curls around my jaw, turning me to face him. "Tell me the story."

Tears fill my eyes at the mere thought. I don't like talking about that day, but here, with Andrey, I feel safe. Protected.

It's my story to tell and it's time to tell it.

"We were driving home and it was late. I was supposed to be asleep, but I had to pee, and Dad stopped at a gas station."

I can still see the little station, silhouetted against the dark sky. Half of the lights in the parking lot didn't work. The ones that did were flickering. It looked like a scene from a horror movie.

It turned into one.

"My mom took me inside to the bathroom and then to get snacks while Dad filled the tank. Then, we switched. He went inside, and I climbed into the car."

Is this the first time I've told this story out loud? It might be. I'm surprised by how many details I can remember. I can hear the lights, the neon signs buzzing. The rumble of the refrigerators. The crackle of empty chip bags blowing in the wind like tumbleweeds.

Andrey's fingers slip through mine, and I cling to him, forcing myself to stay here in this moment.

"I'd just gotten back into the car when this… this man approached us. Mom was trying to talk to him, and then he grabbed her." I blow out a harsh breath, trying to ease the pressure in my chest. "I could hear her screaming, ‘ Lock the doors, lock the doors !'"

Tears pour down my cheeks now, but I will myself to keep going. Andrey here, warm and present next to me, gives me enough strength to power through the knot in my throat.

"Dad ran towards us yelling. I remember thinking he was going to fix everything. Then I saw the gun."

I shudder so violently that Andrey tightens his grip on me.

"The first shot was so loud that I covered my ears with my hands. I wish I'd closed my eyes, instead. Then I wouldn't have seen my father?—"

I break off, choking on my own words.

"I'm sorry, lastochka ," Andrey whispers in my ear. "No child should have to watch their parents die."

My jaw trembles. But now that I've started the story, I need to finish it.

"Dad dropped and my mom screamed. It was the worst sound I've ever heard in my life. She tried to run to him, but the man shot her, too." I look at Andrey hopelessly. "We were only an hour outside of New York. We were so close to home… but I needed to use the bathroom…"

"You are not to blame," he whispers in my ear. "Just like Misha isn't to blame for what happened with Viktor."

I close my eyes and see them again. My mother and her dimpled smile. My father with his untrimmed beard and his round glasses.

Andrey cradles me in his arms, gazing down at my face while he strokes my cheek. "You're braver than you know, Natalia."

"What if you're wrong?"

I expect him to tell me that he knows me better than I know myself. And maybe that's true. Maybe he does.

But he doesn't say that. But instead, he drops a kiss on my forehead and murmurs, "Then I'll be brave enough for the both of us."