6. Anastasia

SIX

Anastasia

M y phone doesn’t stop vibrating. I could sell it as a sex toy with how much it’s dancing across the wooden floor as I work. Frustration rises in me with constantly having my attention pulled towards it and I grab it with the intention of turning it off. But my fingers unlock the device and open the one thread that’s marked as do not open.

It’s self-punishment reading them and a reminder of why I need to be alone. The longer the thread goes on the more the sinking increases and I’m more at peace searching for pedophiles to kill than having a conversation with my own mother.

The messages slowly get worse as they change from tasks she wants me to complete to rewriting my DNA. I can’t escape her taunts or her need to prove I’m less. Vitali’s advice of killing the part of me I hated isn’t enough because it will always be there in the back of my mind. The old Stasya still exists with her stupid hope and na?ve wants for the future while my mother is there to beat her down every chance she gets.

Mother

Have you managed to drop the last few pounds?

I’ll have to get your outfit altered now

Don’t wear red lipstick. It makes your lips look too large for your face

Call your sister and ask her what she wants you to do

It’s not every day a girl gets married and her little sister is supposed to help

Make sure you bring the Vartanov boy. It will look good

Your father has business associated who will be attending. You’ll need to keep them company and make sure they’re happy.

I’ll make sure the Vartanov boy doesn’t see you with them

Jesus, fuck, woman!

He’s not my fucking father and his cunt daughter is not my sister. They’re nothing to me and I turn into a weak fucking child only able to lock the screen instead of saying everything I want to. She’s like a pimp, but she only offers them the promise of looking. I can’t be touched because that would tarnish my value to any of the Vory who would drop their standards for me. The woman is the most confusing person to exist considering she insinuates I’m a whore at every given opportunity yet promises the highest bidder I’ll be an obedient, virginal housewife for their brutal entertainment.

I’ve spent half my life doing everything I can to run away from the bitch. Escaping her hands was easy but I will never outrun her tongue when it reaches too far, and the old feelings stir up in my gut. All the inadequacies, the self-loathing and the extreme thoughts come back.

They’re not thoughts of hurting myself, they’re worse because I can remember the months of praying, wishing, that something would happen to me so that my mother would wake up and realize that I’m not immortal. That maybe, just fucking maybe, if I got sick, got ran over, or if I was in a coma she’d see that life can be taken away at any moment and it would correct her behavior. It will never happen, she’s not wired that way, and I curl in on myself even though she isn’t fucking here.

Working through my list rather than killing the woman who gave birth to me, I check who will be in close enough proximity for me to target tonight. The man at the top of the chain is too well protected and I don’t even know what he looks like, but his little sicko friends aren’t as paranoid.That should be good enough for me to stop spiraling back into who I used to be since my toxic mother decided to input herself into my life, again.

My heart picks up, seeing a name I haven’t been able to meet in person yet. Genevieve, the women are always the worst. It’s an internal bias when they commit the same sins as their male counterparts, but it disgusts me more. On some deeper level I assume there should be more humanity inside of them. I’ve seen the aftermath of how they use their warmth to lure in the vulnerable and comfort children so they’re ready to be hurt.It’s more sickening, insidious, that they pose as a maternal figure.

I set a time-delayed message without a location to Vanya and rise from my pit to get ready. My phone buzzes in my hand and I look down, expecting to see another message from my mother, but it’s Tali. His messages stopped after I told him that his “want to fuck?” messages were uncreative to get him to leave me alone.

There’s no text in the preview and I click into it as I leave my office. The video auto-loads and I can’t make sense of what it is as I go into my bedroom. Dropping down on my bed, I restart it and bring it closer to my face. I can make out the ground where he’s piled up a patch of snow but there aren’t any buildings in the distance to give away his location as he uses a shovel to compact the snow. The clang of the metal spade hitting the icy patches breaks up his muttering.

“I dare you to say I’m not fucking creative now.”

He throws the shovel to the side and there’s a faint metallic noise in the background before the flattened white blanket melts in lines. I’m going dumb because I can’t tell what he’s doing and I have to move my phone back to see the screen fully. A laugh bubbles out of me as he sprays something on the snow, spelling out, Tali ? Stas…

I scrub it back to the beginning to hear his muttering because I miss his voice which I will never admit to him or I’ll end up inflating his ego. The second viewing has my jaw dropping when he pans the phone down once he’s finished writing and I stare wide eyed.

His dick is in his hand.

He used his dick, well his piss, to write our fucking names in the snow. With a heart. There’s no one around to hear my laugh but I turn on my side and mute the sound of it into a cushion because he’s proven he’s definitely not uncreative.

“If you’re a good girl,” he says from my phone, “I’ll let you hold it next time.”

There’s definitely something wrong with me for not blocking his number when he’s telling me to hold his dick while he pees. It feels like trust even though he’s being an idiot, thinking he’s funny.

I don’t reply to his message when I notice the time because I’ll end up getting distracted by him and I can’t be late. There are people relying on me, even if they don’t know I exist, and I drag myself up. Dima allowed me to help with the non-Bratva jobs because he knew I needed something, a goal or a motivation, to live for. On the days I want to die and Tali’s advice isn’t enough, I tell myself that I need to be here to find those children. I can’t have a normal life, a family, but maybe I can give it to those children, allow them to live and their progress is tracked through Steorra as a reminder that my existence has meaning rather than being a burden. Those small children are the only thing that drown out my mother’s voice, so I focus on them, they become my goal.

Dressing for men is easier than a woman. They don’t want anything left to the imagination other than how your body fits into their sick fantasies. The women require intrigue, versatility that they can market for themselves. I’ve spent too much time studying them that my mind fucking terrifies me at times. There’s a deep fear that I’ve become desensitized and I’ll begin to view them as human.Or worse, that I’ll start understanding them and it will warp my mind. If I can understand the mind of a pedophile or those who sell people, then I’m like them, but without that understanding, I can’t find them, I can’t work out how their business operates or who their targets are to make sure they choose me instead of someone innocent.

I go through Genevieve’s previous list of girls, and I find the common theme of her clients’ wants, broken dolls. They’re all beautiful but they’re eyes hold a sadness before they were ever snatched from their lives.It’s not hard to feign as I stand in my closet and drop my mask, allowing the old me to be let out for the night. This version is Stasya, the girl with broken dreams and misplaced hope, she’s hideous and pathetic. Everything my mother says is about her, not me because this Stasya died on a bridge at fourteen. I stepped into her place without emotions or expectations.

My nose scrunches as I uncap the cheap vodka with the strongest smell and dab it on to my pulse points before mixing a generic perfume over the top. Deception is an art and I’m a fucking masterpiece as I walk out of my apartment to collect my prey.

I’m half leaning on the bar when I spot her. I slap my hand against marble, ignoring the way my palm stings as I shout “shots” to no one in particular. It gets Genevieve’s attention and the back of my head heats as I allow my neck to go limp then rest my head on my shoulder, as long as her attention is on me it’s not on ruining some innocent person’s life. Throwing my head back, I sniff and pat a napkin against my nostrils while looking around the bar, pretending to check if anyone has seen. The fake blood stinks and I purposefully freeze as I stare at the napkin, making sure that Genevieve has seen it.

It doesn’t take long for body heat to warm my side and the man beside me nearly has me breaking character. There’s a warning in his eyes that he doesn’t want me to listen to him as he says, “Hey, pretty girl, you belong in VIP. Do you want to come up with me?”

He’s beautiful, model beautiful, a perfect smile and symmetrical features, but that warning doesn’t leave and his smile dips as I act giddy and point at myself.Nodding my head, overeager for the attention, has his warning changing to hopelessness. I’ve never seen him before, and my fingers touch raised skin as I hold on to his arm.

The other people that are used to lure in the unsuspecting are always excited and my heart cracks, knowing he’s being forced to be a hand to hurt like those who have done it to him. All these cunts get off on using people for fuck’s sake. Vanya’s words come back to me at how they would describe human beings as the perfect product, and I push down the urge to offer him an escape.

He leads me up to his table and the model doesn’t say anything at all as Genevieve’s anger vibrates through the space over the sound of the music. She’s wearing a wig; it’s good but I’ve watched the footage of her unloading people like they’re objects to know her real features, and her eyes are soulless as she stares at the man beside me. He must be in his early twenties and he’s going to get himself killed. One look from his handler and he mumbles an excuse before flashing his smile.

“Give me a minute, you can sit with Gen.”

He hands me a glass of champagne as I take a seat in the booth then leaves without turning to look back.The snake slithers closer as I toy with the stem, making sure to spill as much as possible, and her voice is normal, kind.

“I’m sorry about my brother, he’s going through a breakup.”

Bile rises in my throat as I stick out my bottom lip, pretending to be sympathetic at her story to drag me in as she introduces herself.

“I’m Gen, what’s your name?”

The small talk would be friendly if I didn’t know her crimes and I force excitement into my voice as I look around the VIP area as though I’m enamored.

“Belle. It is so nice up here. The air even feels different.”

She nods and her demeanor changes as she looks over my shoulder. Coming back to me with a forced smile, she sips her drink and speaks around the crystal.

“You have a lot of admirers, Belle. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you.”

Every part of my body begs to be allowed to go on alert.It won’t be anyone who will break the image I’m trying to sell — they all think I’m a coke head anyway. I’m not close enough to swipe her phone and throw my head back laughing so I can see who’s ruining my plans. Internally I’m groaning and rolling my eyes at the sight of Vitali’s hard stare; I’m going to put a fucking bell on him to stop him randomly popping up.

I turn back to Genevieve and narrow my eyes as I lean closer without adjusting my volume.

“He’s kind of my boyfriend, I love him, but he has debts.”

I mouth the last part and the sick fuck lights up as her hand comes to my shoulder, attempting to be comforting. I flinch to get rid of the last remnants of spiked champagne in my flute and grab more napkins than necessary to dab at her clothes with an exaggerated apology.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m really clumsy and I’ll pay for it to be cleaned. Shit, I’ve got it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do it.”

I stretch over the seat and manage to knock her phone on the floor with the commotion. It covers the act of me sliding it closer with my foot as I turn without bringing any of my limbs in, pushing a few glasses off the table for extra measure and do the same shit as I push her phone under my dress into the hidden pocket.

Bingo bitch, I’ve got what I came for.

I’m about to make an excuse to leave when her hand wraps around my forearm and she pulls me to sit. The faux friendliness is still in her voice as she says, “It’s fine, I never really liked this dress anyway.”

Once I’m seated, she can’t stop her eyes flicking to Vitali. I hate those sick fucking thoughts being directed at him. He’s good, happy, and light, and he doesn’t need to be tainted by the world, so I sway forward to stop her being able to examine him. If she looks at him again, I’m using one of the smashed flutes to slit her throat.

“Are you in danger, Belle?” she asks.

Yes, every second I spend next to you increases the risk.

I pick at the hem of my dress and push hurt into my voice as I mumble, “No. He loves me, and I love him. I just want to help him, you know?”

All I have to do is put myself in my fourteen-year-old mind to look torn and I turn my head with a sigh, locking on to Genevieve. I hate that I’m using him and tarnishing who he is as I continue lying.

“It won’t be forever; once he’s got the money from his friends it will just be the two of us again, like it was in the beginning.”

I’m a fraud and I hate myself even more because there are people whose reality I’m stealing.

When her hand moves towards the seat beside her, I push up and shoot her a smile.

“I should go before he gets angry. His friend is waiting.”

Please don’t be with one of your brothers .

I didn’t register who Vitali was with and if I have to throw myself at a married man I’ll die of shame. My heart is racing with adrenaline as I take clumsy, hurried steps and relief fills me at the sight of Zidane.He’s not married so at least I won’t have to use him, and he’s friendly enough that he won’t go crazy when I use him to project the image I need.

My body falls into his as I sit myself on his lap and reach behind me, grabbing Vitali’s head. Once his lips are close enough to mine and Genevieve can’t see them move, I grit, “Play. Along.”

My lips noisily smack against his but he doesn’t relax, and anger burns back at me. It intensifies as I pull myself up and Zidane looks like a kid on Christmas Day.

“Lay it on me, baby.”

Despite his instruction for me to move, he threads his fingers through my hair and roughly pulls me to him until his lips are on mine.

I’m in a tug of war as hands land on my hips, pulling me away and sitting me on another thigh. Vitali’s jaw clenches and he positions me so I’m facing Zidane and my legs are between his. He locks me in place with his hand around my throat, and his voice deepens.

“She sits here, fucking continue.”

I’ve been around them both enough to know Zidane won’t be fazed and he slides closer in the booth. His fingers thread through my hair, fighting for dominance as Vitali squeezes the sides of my neck.

Fuck. I have one man’s tongue in my mouth but it’s the one slowly sipping his drink that has all my attention. Zidane is handsome but there’s nothing stimulating my mind when it comes to him. Sliding my hand under my dress, I discreetly pass Vitali the phone I took from Genevieve, and he relaxes minutely only to instantly harden again. His thumb presses under my jaw, tilting my head back as he gives Zidane a silent instruction which he follows.

Vitali is a bastard, and he’s tracked every point of my body with his tongue; he knows that spot on my neck makes me weak as Zidane gently bites below my ear. He abruptly stops and asks, “Fuck, baby, how much have you drank? I can taste it on you.” The first sign of hesitance comes from Zidane, and he pulls back, checking my pupils. “You good?”

It’s laughable that he has a moral code considering his line of work and the reputation of his family, but Genevieve can’t see me, so I allow them to see that I’m sober.

“I might have missed my mouth when I took a shot.”

He relaxes when he sees I’m not intoxicated and moves closer, his nose brushing mine and a filthy smile frames his even filthier words.

“Can I miss when I take mine?”

I like this game, it gets me away from fixating on what’s on the phone and I check to see she’s fucked off before engaging. The table is empty, no guards are positioned waiting for her return and the mess I created is still there. Knocking Vitali’s hand away, I cross one leg over the other and tilt my chin in the air, acting scandalized.

“What kind of girl do you think I am? I’m a lady you know.”

Heat brushes my cheek and Vitali’s deep voice is in my ear. “And all ladies wear pearl necklaces.”

The two shitheads laugh at his pun before they exchange a look, silently coming to an agreement.Zidane stands and he doesn’t adjust as he smirks over at me. Vitali doesn’t move from my ear and his hand lands on my thigh.

“You want to follow through, sweetness?”

Between the two of them I’ll be struggling to walk tomorrow but who needs temporary comfort when I can live out a hidden fantasy. He groans into my ear and massages up my thigh before I can answer.

“I want to watch you come and I want to show my girl off so everyone knows how fucking beautiful she is, but…” he trails off to take a deep breath. “But you won’t do anything for me, so say no and I’ll take you home, tuck you in bed with your thousands of cushions and kiss your forehead.”

I nod my head because I know I’ll be safe and stand, pulling him with me as Zidane waits at the top of the staircase. We form a line, each of them covering me as we exit the club and Tali keeps his fingers threaded through mine while whispering his dirty thoughts into my ear.

“We’re going to stretch your pretty pussy and you’re going to fucking scream for me. Then, you’re going to come while I fuck that pretty little throat of yours.”

If Genevieve’s watching, it sells the story and it will stop me freaking out when I get home or driving around all night to make sure I’m not being followed. If she isn’t, it gives me my own story.

Vitali places his hand on my hip as we enter the cool night air, and his lips brush my ear as he darkly whispers, “And you won’t be able to fucking lie anymore. We’re going to talk when we get home, Anastasia.”

I pause at his use of home as though there’s one place that we belong together when there isn’t. The security on the doors stares at us, assessing if there’s a risk until he notices the ink on the back of Tali’s fingers and deems it unsafe for himself.

My voice hardens as I dispel any notion he has of this thing between us being more.

“We don’t have a home, I’m not your junior, and you need potty training.”

The cool night air contrasts against his rage as he pulls me into his car to drive to his apartment with Zidane following in his own car. Tali wraps his fingers above my knee, the digits digging into my muscle, and he loses some of his anger as he laughs.

“Did you like it? I was going to use body parts from the warehouse but that felt a bit too obvious.”

“And evidence of a crime,” I deadpan.

He just laughs louder and pulses his hand on my leg.

“Okay,” he says as he sits taller. “What about you holding my dick while I piss?”

I lean into him without any intention as I ask, “How did you think of that? Why did you think of it?”

“You said be creative,” he shrugs as he takes a turn. “I went online for creative shit to impress my girl and there was a woman who said she asked her man if she could hold his dick while he pissed but he said no, so I figured I’d try my luck with you.” Sparing me a glance, he softens his voice. “At least you’ll never forget me now.”

I haven’t forgotten him since I was fourteen, I never will because he is both the catalyst of my death and the one who resurrected me. If I tell him he’ll end up developing a god complex, so I shift in my seat and stare out of the window.