26. Anastasia

TWENTY-SIX

Anastasia

M y heart is beating out of my chest, trying to give up in shame of Vitali hearing that bitter bitch. He’s filled with rage and my shoulders hunch forward, knowing what he’s thinking. I want to tell him I didn’t listen to her, that I’m on birth control, and I’m not trying to trap him. But my tongue doesn’t move, and my eyes are fixed on the floor.

My head snaps up when he barks my full name. “Anastasia.”

Some of my anger comes out as I hiss, “Do not fucking speak to me like that.”

This is why he gets smacked in the mouth, fucking asshole.But he doesn’t shout back, he smiles as he gently holds my shoulders and leans down, so we’re eye to eye, then, without any venom directed at me, he says, “That woman is a cunt, never speak to her again.”

It takes a second to realize he’s talking about my mother. I can’t not speak to her, she’s my mother. The woman who gave birth to me even if she has nothing but resentment.

I can’t argue something he won’t understand, so I choose the safe option of running away as he likes to call it. I try to move around him to escape this room that’s getting smaller, but he blocks me.He’s like a bear and wraps his arms around me so I can’t do anything. My arms are stuck by my sides, and he doesn’t even twitch when I knock my shoulders into him.

I can hear his teeth knocking together as he bites out, “Stop trying to fucking run from me.”

My brain isn’t processing anything fast enough and I move my head back to look at him. He doesn’t believe anything she said, there are no questions or demands for me to admit my ulterior motives.He loosens his hold a fraction when he sees I’m not fighting and rests his forehead on mine, our masks knocking together, but the comforting sea in his eyes fills my vision.

“You’re not anything she says you are. You are mine, and I have good taste,” he says with false conviction.

Threading my fingers together at his nape, I lean back, trying to work out what has happened to my life. It’s brainwashing, Vitali calls everyone his girl. He’ll see Dani and shout it to her, now I’ve become accustomed to it and my mind has changed the meaning.

My voice hardens to convince us both as I argue, “I am not yours.”

That’s a relationship and we strictly fuck. Even if we’ve actually been talking to each other and spending more time with our clothes on than off recently. Relationships have expectations and an expiry date. Casual encounters don’t.

He takes a deep breath and looks over my shoulder without letting me go as he mumbles, “How is someone so clever and dumb at the same time?”

The insult loosens my hands, and I push against his chest. His arms tighten around me, and he turns us so I’m against the door.Everything other than him evaporates as he darkens and grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head as he asks, “So, you heard that but not anything else I’ve said?”

Sarcastic prick. He always just says shit without any meaning; the first time we slept together he fell back into the sheets and declared we have to get married. I can’t take him seriously when he doesn’t even do it himself. We work because I’m cold, and he’s hot. Not warmth that anyone can handle, we’re the opposite of each other but it would never last. I’d cool him down or he would shatter me.

I soften my voice in the hope it helps him live in reality. “We’re good together physically, don’t confuse things.”

He takes a controlled breath that does nothing to help his mood. The puppy isn’t staring back at me, it’s the man who’s fed up with my shit.

“If I went out there and fucked someone else, how would you feel, Asya?”

His game is stupid as fuck, I’ve never been a priority so I can’t experience jealousy. You can’t be envious of something you know is never going to be yours.He’s proving me right without meaning to and I point out what he’s forgetting.

“You didn’t care about Zidane.”

He steps closer into the nonexistent space between our bodies, his fingers tightening around my wrists, and his voice drops to a deadly tone. “That was an addition, not a removal. We can fuck whoever we want.”

He’s talking as though we’ve melded ourselves together to become one, not two separate people existing within the same space. I hate the words leaving me and I want to take them back as soon as they’re out.

“You can do whatever you want, it won’t bother me.”

Vitali rocks back and I bite my cheek to stop myself from voicing I’m a liar. As a hypothetical it was fine, I could deal with it and put it in a box labelled ‘not true’, but now I’ve set the challenge, and he won’t back down. He takes a step back and my hands slowly drop to my sides, my face threatens to do the same as he gestures for me to walk out. My body stalls, knowing as soon as the door opens, he’s going to make me eat my words and I’ll be fixating on where he is.

Fuck it. I can do it. My mother or Marta didn’t cause this. It’s the consequences of my own mouth and I’m an adult, it won’t be the first time or the last that I have proof that I’m nothing or that I have to walk away from something that actually makes me happy.

I pull the door open with my shoulders straight and my chin up. My steps are steady, not betraying my emotion as I walk away leaving everything in that cramped storage room. I keep walking past the private room and my legs don’t stop until I’m outside the casino. The guards are standing by the car, and I get in, not saying anything as I pull the stupid mask off my face.

My thoughts are louder than anything else, every part of my mind working through the images of people we passed and trying to figure out which one Vitali will choose. At least I won’t have to witness it and I’ll stay in the city. I haven’t slept alone since his sunrise picnic and lead drops in my chest at the thought of not having his body heat wrapped around me.

The car rolls to a stop, dragging me out of my cyclone thoughts and I could fucking laugh. I’m not even at home, all my things are beside Vitali’s, staged just like the rest of my life, projecting an image that isn’t fucking real. The guard smirks to himself and his muttered comment is a reminder of who I am as he looks at me through the rear-view mirror.

“I’m sure the kids are asleep now.”

I send Inessa a message that I’ve left so she doesn’t hear the rumors and kill me as I get out of the car and leave the door open. The dickhead can close it himself since he’s got nothing better to do.

I would never touch Vlad, but it doesn’t stop the muttering as I walk up the steps and let myself into their house. There are no sounds of children travelling through the house; it’s eerie with how alive the space usually is. Vlad has probably locked them in a cupboard or set them on their psychotic training.

Viktor pokes his head out of the kitchen and stares behind me as he asks, “Is Tali with you?”

There’s no one following me, but I still check and confirm the status of my life. “It’s just me. Do you need help with something?”

I’m forcing a child to spend time with me because that’s not pathetic at all.He shrugs and gestures towards the kitchen for me to follow. If he’s killed someone I’ll have to interact with his dumbass uncle. I check the floor for blood or a body and there’s no mark on it, but sugar hits my senses. Viktor is far more mature than his years and I smile, seeing him with a comically oversized oven mitt.

“Pass me it, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

I quickly take it from him and remove his warmed cookie dough. He stays at my side as I set it down on the island beside his plate.I don’t want to stare at his eye and stand on the opposite side while he pulls out his toppings. I’ve seen him grow up in little spurts when passing information to Vlad and it’s weird to watch him be a mini adult. He turns to me with a smile and holds up the choices of ice cream.

“I didn’t want him to steal my food. Do you want chocolate chip or vanilla?”

There’s only one right answer and I’m not going to deny myself of anything more after my shit night.I don’t feel the need to avoid conversation and relax as I grab my option out of his hand.

“Chocolate chip, vanilla is made from beaver’s ass.”

His brows go up and he puts the other tub back, declaring, “That can be Tali’s then.”

I remain standing on the opposite side of the island while Viktor takes his seat, leaving me with my portion. He always argues about Vitali stealing his food, but he’s made two servings, and he keeps watching the door.We’re both alike in that sense that we push him away and then wait for him to come back.

The first hit of chocolate on my tongue is heaven and I focus on chewing so I don’t inhale it. My mother can bitch about my clothes not fitting all she wants, I won’t be in any of the photos anyway and I’m too pissed at myself to even care about what she’ll say.

Viktor’s question is timed perfectly to stop her invading my mind. “How do you know the beaver thing is true?”

The only children I’ve ever interacted with have all been traumatized and I don’t try to bullshit my way out of knowing I’m right as I gesture to his phone. “Search it, vanilla flavoring is made from the glands in their ass.”

I should have said butt instead of cursing.

My mood lightens with him arguing, “That can’t be right, it doesn’t taste like it’s got animals in it, and wouldn’t it have a shit aftertaste?”

“Do you eat shit regularly to know what it tastes like?” I raise a brow and trap my spoon between my lips to prevent my laugh from escaping as Viktor loses.

He’s usually quick witted, annoyingly so from Tali’s complaints, but now he pauses, searching for a retort before he says, “No but the smell would be there. When Dom was a baby, he stank. One time,” he laughs, dropping his arms flat on the island, “my dad must’ve messed up his diaper because it was all over Dom’s back. My mom called him and told him to come home because it was that bad.”

“Did it smell like vanilla?” I ask, laughing freely.

“Nope.” He pops his lips and begins eating his ice cream again. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“I’m an only child, like you were before Dom came along.”

Viktor hums, reminiscing on a time before he was stuck with a little brother to annoy him but there’s no malice in his voice as he complains, “You’re lucky, I have to share everything with him and Vasy. They’re annoying and they always sneak into my room.”

We find comradery between our bowls of ice cream and I’m able to forget all the shit around me, until he changes the topic to something that makes me want to choke.

“Why don’t you sit with us every morning?”

I keep the spoon in my mouth, so I don’t have to answer and get a hit of chocolate coating my tongue, but the little shit keeps interrogating me around his ice cream and cookie dough.

“I saw you leave the house, we all know that you’re Tali’s girlfriend, so you know you don’t have to run away, right?”

I’m not letting him give me shit when I refuse to allow his uncle to and fire back, “Oh yeah, is Grace your girlfriend?”

The smirk on his face is dangerous and shows that he’s going to grow up to be so much worse than his dad and uncles. He’s a mix of all of them, but he doesn’t unleash the verbal cruelty his dad is known for, he makes a deal like Vlad.

“Okay, I won’t say anything if you don’t. My dad will end up coming to my school and asking her a million questions.” His eyes widen dramatically as he shakes his head. “Or hugging her.”

I nod and don’t notice how much I’ve eaten until it feels like I’m going to burst. Viktor finishes at the same time as me and I take the plates, but he stares at me like I’ve got two heads and he’s never seen someone clean before. His eyes track me until they’re washed and put away, then he slips off the stool and comes to stand at my side. His arms wrap around my middle, and he shows the perceptiveness he’s inherited from Vitali.

“If you don’t want to be alone we’re all sleeping on Vlad’s floor,” he says softly while still hugging me. “But Vasy and Dom are annoying so you might want to avoid them.”

I hesitantly pat his back as he offers, “We can watch a movie if you want?”

The devil appears now that he’s been mentioned, and Viktor gives me a smile before he leaves the kitchen and goes to watch his movie after I shake my head.

Vlad is like a terrifying cousin, whereas Dima is more like my older brother. I wish it was the latter in front of me, but he assesses me and makes sure Viktor’s innocent ears won’t overhear anything as I step back to prevent any of the guards on patrol talking shit.

“What happened?” Vlad asks, his voice low and his brows come together when I take another step back. “Did you find something else?”

The front door opens, cutting him off and I die a little inside as Inessa stops in the lounge to ask Viktor, “Shouldn’t you be asleep, rypka?”

“My mom said I can stay up and the others are asleep,” he says.

She doesn’t trust me to be in the same house as her husband, I knew it in the back of my head but it still hurts, and I force my face to remain blank as I walk out of the double doors leading into the garden. The cold night air is familiar since I’ve been hiding in the dark for as long as I can remember, and I fall back into old patterns as I walk around the edge of the house, avoiding the windows.

I’m not the coke head or party girl as I sink down with my back against the wall and hide in the shadows near a shrub. The guards’ dumbass voices reach me, and I hunch my shoulders forward despite the fact I can’t be seen as they say, “Give it a few minutes and you’ll hear someone screaming while the slut gets Vory bingo.”

Another one joins in, laughing with their agreement. “Yeah, I’m surprised Borya didn’t send her away. He probably had to burn the room she slept in so it didn’t infect anyone else in the house.”

I nearly laugh at that. Not because of what they’re saying, it’s Vitali’s descriptor of my childhood bedroom in my memory, he called it a servant’s room when I took him to it and there was nothing to burn.

Heels click against the tiled pathway wrapping around the house and Inessa’s voice holds authority as she addresses the guards. “Go to the gate and pick up your cigarette butts.”

They can’t see me in the dark and I hope she can’t either as they leave, but she remains standing at the side and I’m sure she has night vision because she takes easy steps until she’s sitting beside me. It’s like we’re children again and I’m hiding so Dariya can’t find me when my mother calls me home.

Just like my childhood, Inessa remains beside me and she doesn’t say anything even though she stares at me, plagued with questions. I break the silence, needing her to know the truth in respect of that little girl who doesn’t exist anymore.

“I wouldn’t touch your husband.”

She laughs. It starts slow and gets louder, making her shake as she playfully knocks her shoulder into mine. “I know you, Stasya, why the fuck would you think that you need to say it to me ?”

She sighs and turns so she’s sitting across from me and lays back as though she’s not the Pakhan’s granddaughter or the wife of a Vor. Her heels are kicked off next and she presses her feet into the wall.

There must be some kind of psychological phenomena that reverts me back with the nostalgia and I do the same. She doesn’t waste a second to try to speak to the version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.

“I know it’s childish, but I never understood why you stopped playing with me.”

My voice is cold as we watch the clouds move through the darkened sky. “We grew up.”

Inessa has always been more mature than me, even when Mischa and I used to give her shit for spilling something because she was clumsy, she wouldn’t rise to it. It’s worse now and she doesn’t accept my bullshit for once. “No one really grows up, we just pretend we have. Do you remember when we tried to bury Mischa in the rose bushes?”

I laugh and it’s genuine, but the sound is still muted as I say, “Yeah, you made him move the worms because you didn’t want to touch them.”

Her voice softens and she speaks up to the sky. “Well, I’d move the worms for you, just let me know who we should bury.”

I don’t know what’s brought on the conversation until she turns her head to me and mistakes the reason for my mood.

“We’ll find them you know. I’ve already got a bigger team at Steorra ready for when we do.”

She thinks it’s due to me not finding the house Genevieve is using and a pit opens up in my stomach because I’ve allowed something else to take precedent over the task. I nod and mechanically sit up, my voice is robotic too as I stand. “Yeah, I’ll check on them. Thanks.”

Her eyes are fixed on my face as I walk away and go back inside. Viktor’s movie plays out as soon as I step through the doors, and I go to the hidden staircase that leads directly to Vitali’s floor. I don’t have my things to be able to search for anything useful and there are only two rooms on his floor that have a bed. The others are empty, so I choose the safer option after I change and go into Viktor’s room since he’s not sleeping here tonight.

I hate my fucking life as I crawl into a car bed that has working lights. It’s comfortable as fuck, clearly no expense spared, but I’m an adult and I have to tuck my knees up so my legs aren’t hanging off the edge. My mind ramps up the toxic swirl when it should shut up and let me sleep.

I count how many times I blink and make it to eighty-seven when footsteps move down the hall. They’re trying to be silent but they’re too clumsy, exactly like a puppy. I turn my head and look at the door as I strain my ears for any accompanying steps. There’s only one pair and I instantly relax. Vitali has come home alone, that’s a good sign. Unless he’s already done what he needed to. I stare at the wall as though I can see through it as the steps move past me and a door closes further away. There’s no sounds of his shower turning on but I’m too far to hear him, would he even wash someone else off? Or would he come to me at all? I wouldn’t if I was him, yet I stare at the door.

A lump travels up my chest and settles in my throat. Every one of my organs decides to shift inside me to create a cavity of nothingness and I slowly sink, pressing into the sheets. I turn over to face the opposite wall like it can stop me focusing on what’s behind me and pull the pillow over my head to block everything out. I’m acting like a fucking child, in a fucking car bed. It’s never felt like this before, a bone-deep ache, I can usually pick myself up and be fine but this fucking hurts.

My throat burns and it moves to my sinuses before the sensation is pricking my eyes. Dread decides to add to my emotions as I push the pillow over my head harder to escape reality. In a few hours I’ll have to stand and be weighed, again. There won’t be the silver lining of knowing Vitali will be waiting for me at the wedding, I’ll have to put up with my mother’s shit and she’ll happily point out everything wrong about me when my mind is already blaring my faults.

A scream rips from my throat as the pillow is pulled off me and my foot moves back to get away from whatever spirit died in this fucking house. My foot connects with bone, but it doesn’t make me relax, it’s the sound of Vitali cursing that has me sinking further.

“Fuck!”

My heart is hammering against my rib cage, and it plummets seeing him hold his bad knee. Because I just fucking kicked him in it.

His head snaps up as I move towards him like I can reverse time. His eyes are filled with physical and emotional pain with a voice to match as he snaps, “Finished beating the shit out of me today?”

My chin drops to my chest, as I say, “I thought?—”

“That’s your fucking problem, always thinking and never opening your fucking eyes.” He cuts me off and shuffles me into the wall to create space for himself. Angry muttering fills the silence and he positions me, so my back is against his chest.

I can smell the alcohol on him, but it’s the mix of soap and his damp hair making me want to throw up. His hand moves up so it’s loosely holding my neck, the position I’ve become accustomed to. I’m not afraid he’ll choke me, despite the fact there are fresh scrapes on his knuckles and he’s drunk. My body knows it’s safe with him on a cellular level, nothing else is and I try to move forward away from his dick that’s touched someone else.

His arm curls under my ribs until he’s cupping between my thighs. Each hand is holding something vital, life and pleasure. This could work, he’ll fuck whoever he wants, raise a family with them, I’ll get to have the middle of night when the world is asleep.

The only sound in the room is of our breathing, it’s silent to the point I can hear myself blink until he crushes me, whispering into the back of my head, “There’s this woman, she’s so fucking amazing, intelligent, and beautiful I can’t get her out of my head. The type of beauty you can feel and see with your eyes closed.”

He’s on the brink of sleep and I hate her.

“Got a theory, everyone hurt her,” he sighs. “Not just hurt her, they destroyed her. So now she doesn’t trust herself to be happy and she needs to be the first person to leave because then they can’t hurt her, you know? She forgets that just like it hurts everyone else, it hurts her worse, and she can’t get away from it because that pain is inside her. The only way it can heal is with company, and that scares her too. I still can’t get her out of my head though, even when she hurts me, when she makes me crazy and I want to shake her to get her to stop.” He hugs me closer and nuzzles into the crook of my neck, speaking slower, quieter. “But then she laughs.”

I don’t even breathe as he repeats, “Then she laughs and I forget my own name. Better than cake, the ultimate sweetness.”

A tear splashes on the pillow below my temple by the time he finishes speaking. They don’t stop and I tense my jaw to hold them back. All it achieves is more emotion choking me, my throat thickens, and he can feel it under his palm as he begins to softly massage my neck. His voice is deeper with sleep, and he presses his lips to my pulse point as he admits, “I didn’t touch anyone.”

The admission doesn’t settle me even though it’s filled with the truth. I clear my throat and continue lying. “You should have.”

Maybe that’s what I need him to do so he can see I’m not special and that he can easily replace me. The hand on my throat tightens as he pulls the other from between my legs. His voice is rougher, wilder, as he asks, “Would you?”

His fingers flex and he takes a deep breath before he calmly says, “If I was the one to leave you and tell you to fuck off all the time, would you find someone else?”

I haven’t touched anyone else since he literally chased me down, but if I tell him that he’ll read too much into it and my mother’s voice is there in my head, mixing with everyone else’s opinions. Hers is always the loudest because if the woman who birthed me sees me as the worst what hope do I have? None. No hope to be better, or for anyone to understand me.

So I lie, “Yes.”

Vitali roughly pulls me back into him and tightens his hand around my throat, mentally forcing his way through my fucked-up mind as he bites out, “Don’t fucking lie to me when I can feel you, I know you. Even though you piss me the fuck off, all I fucking want is for you to talk to me. Just let me in and I promise I’ll protect you. I’ll give you fucking everything, sit you on a throne, just fucking talk to me.”

A sob is trapped in my chest as I breathe in, preventing it escaping. I’m abruptly lifted, and he places me against his chest as he wraps both arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

“Tell me, Stasi, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

I push my face into the crook of his neck as my entire body shakes. All the parts of myself that I’ve killed over the years are fighting to be free. It’s not even a big deal, so my mother called me a whore more than my actual name. She watched my diet and scrutinized my appearance. It’s fine. Her husband is a creepy pervert, but he didn’t actually touch me. Her stepdaughter is a bully but there are no scars on my skin. Yet every day I continue to kill different hopes before they can take root in fear of someone else taking them away from me.

The soft coaxing doesn’t stop as he says into my hair, “You can break, sweetness, I’ll always put you back together. But if you try and go over the edge, you’ll be taking me with you, so remember to come up for air or I won’t be able to breathe.”

Just like he did when I was a teenager, he manages to make the edge comfortable, and I repeat the words he once said to me.

“Because you’ve just bought your jeans?”

Air blows across my hair and he speaks low and with deep emotion.

“No, sweetness, because it’s you and I’d rather sink with you than fly on my own.”

I kiss his cheek in gratitude of who he is and deflect as I whisper, “Go to sleep, luchik.”

I’m sorry.