11. Dima

ELEVEN

Dima

M y dick is never going to work again as I watch Ana disappointedly throw the knives on the floor. She's fucked in the head, from her sense of humor to the way she deflates seeing he's been dead for the last hour of her torture. Her nimble hand reaches into the opening she made on his sternum, and she pushes up into his chest cavity, reaching for something.

It's so fucked. Her face lights up as though she's been given a gift, and she yanks her hand back, pulling out his fucking heart. Her fingers have broken through the tissue, and she holds it up, inspecting it. If she takes a bite out of it, I'm getting a priest. But she does something I didn't predict, and her mouth forms a small O before she laughs without sound and pumps the fucking thing, flexing her fist and mimicking the sound of a heartbeat. It's not for anyone else's entertainment but her own, she's forgotten the audience, and the dull thuds echo through the warehouse while I stare wide eyed.

Vlad dismisses her psychotic bullshit and stands in front of me. "Let her play, why did you ask about Amon?"

She's not fucking playing like a child. She's having an episode from whatever the fuck is wrong with her. But it's the only time she's happy and laughs so I focus on the new name rather than the disturbing scene.

"Who is he?"

It's rare I don't know anything since giving him my life in exchange for a new one.Warning alarms blare in my head at his grimace. They only get louder with every syllable leaving him as Ana changes the pace of the heartbeat she's making.

"Someone only I deal with."

Cryptic cunt. He can't ever just say shit how it is. Vlad is the closest thing to a friend but he's more family considering we raised our siblings together. The little shits would tell people they have two dads and still joke that we're husbands.

Keeping his voice low so the hellion doesn't hear, he gives me more information for once.

"He's not affiliated but he's wealthy enough to have every connection, is it Katya?"

One thing I know I can count on him for is sticking to his word and always protecting my sister. Shaking my head, I gesture to Ana, and he gets that weird ass look on his face again as he stares at her.

"What's her date of birth?" he asks.

The sudden interest is strange, he's been treating her like shit for years. Both of them do it, kicking and punching each other whenever they have the opportunity. They'll do everything other than straight up kill each other, but it hasn't stopped and I know better than to think he would ever show interest in anyone other than his wife. His eyes bore into the side of her neck, right where the mark is branded into her skin, as though he recognizes it.

I don't have an answer for his question. She doesn't even have a last name, how the fuck would she know how old she is? He hardens as he turns back to me and orders, "Find out."

Is she a fucking tree I'm supposed to cut in half and count the damn rings? Dickhead extends his voice and smirks, antagonizing the hellion currently playing with what looks like a liver.

"Play time's over, pipsqueak. Clean everything."

Ana bristles and her arm flexes. I shake my head, so she doesn't start throwing organs around and she flings it on the floor with an eyeroll.

He walks off and I go to her, so she doesn't take more shit out of the cunt's body. At least she's not staring into space all lost and vulnerable. That shit will wreck me, I'm too accustomed to her brutality that I can convince myself she's not human. Getting rid of the dead fucker first, she waves bye at his bagged body like a child. There's always these moments of immaturity when she's seen so much more than she should have. It's not faked or to lighten a situation, Ana does it because she has to. The control that comes with growth isn't there.

She seems like she's in a good mood and I hope for the best, spitting my question out. "When's your birthday?"

I know how old she is, and I'll be able to work out the year as long as she answers. Asking for the date instead of answering, she closes one eye, counting something out in her head and her voice is low with realization.

"Six days ago."

Oh fuck, she didn't even do anything for it. She was in hospital, beaten black and blue and it was her fucking birthday.

Katya always makes a big deal about birthdays, there's a gift you have to open in the morning and then little traditions through the day. Our mom always did it, made a big deal over aging, saying we'll be grown up soon and she needs to celebrate us growing.

Fuck, am I supposed to buy her something? I don't even know what she'd like other than killing someone and kick the cunt in the bag, trying to assuage my guilt.

"Consider this your late birthday present?"

The innocence on her face is killing me and she nods her head too fast like a bobble head.She talks more to herself than me as she hoses down the blood.

"I've never had a birthday present before. One year I stole a cupcake so I could have a cake, but it had ants on it, and I thought they were sprinkles because it was dark."

There's no sadness in her voice, she's laughing at herself. Finding humor in the most desolate fucking memory. I'm going to sob. I swear every time she opens her mouth I want to cry. I need her to murder someone else, watch her torture and rip their dick off layer by layer so I can remind myself what she's capable of.

I'll buy her a cake. I'll bake the cunt myself if I have to. She snaps her head up, remembering I'm still here as I ask, "What's your favorite flavor?"

Her head slowly tilts to the side as though it's a difficult question and she speaks too slowly.

"Tali gave me a red one, that was nice."

I message the pig to find out where he got it from, and it turns into a conversation of expecting the worst of me.

Me:

Where did you get the red velvet cake you gave Ana?

Vitya:

I can't tell you my dealer

I'll get you one too

The fuck ??

What happened? Did you stab her?

Oh fuck. You did, didn't you?

It was her birthday and she's never had a cake

Leave it with me. Bring her with you tomorrow

You were always shit with birthdays

For fuck's sake, now I'm going to get shot or she'll kick my head in. The little puppy will plan something extravagant and who knows what the hellion's reaction will be. She'll probably set it all on fire. I look up, telling myself it's to check I'm safe when really it's due to the way she's always peaceful once she's satiated her blood lust. There's blood on her cheek and nose from where she's itched her face and she's cute as fuck as she crosses her eyes, trying to see what's on it. I'm more disturbed by my own thoughts than what she's doing.

I don't speak as I take the hose from her and wet my hand to clean her face. It's so I'm not caught with someone covered in blood and it has nothing to do with the soft smile on her face. I have to actively move my hand away from her face and take over the cleaning so I can get my senses to recalibrate to how they should be. Why the fuck am I touching her? She didn't react in violence which is odd, and she starts humming to herself as I move around the warehouse righting everything.

She's rattling with energy by the time I finish, and her eyes are red, burning. I keep my voice low, hesitating to burst her bubble as I guide her out of the warehouse.

"You can take your contacts out now, if you want."

Adding the last bit on so I don't get killed doesn't have the desired effect. She stiffens and shakes her head as she quickens her steps. Her eyes are already closed when I get in the car, and I want to see those unique blues again.

They freakishly snap open when her phone buzzes and I start the car to focus on something other than the hellion beside me. She doesn't speak and I try to plug as much authority in my voice as possible to stop there being a repeat of her bruises.

"Break up with him."

It comes out angry and rough. No one deserves to be beaten by the person who's supposed to be their safe space. Even if Ana thinks she can handle the pain, the mental anguish is going to come back to haunt her.

I relax as she innocently giggles to herself. It always ends sad, as though she's regretting being happy and her monotonous voice floats through the car.

"I'm not in a relationship to break up with someone."

Why the fuck is that making me feel better? But I know the cycle of back and forward, leaving and then going back to the person because they convince you they've changed. They promise the world in exchange for your comfort and never deliver.

I'm quiet for too long and the silence builds as I carefully attempt to arrange the words to form a sentence I wish someone had said to my mother. Breaking it softly, hoping that she understands that he's a lying cunt and she has options, I tilt my body so I can see her.

"You deserve better than to be his punching bag, don't go back to him. Hedoesn't really love you, or anyone, he's only capable of loving himself."

She's serious until the last sentence and snorts with her laugh wrapping around more things she believes are facts.

"There's nothing to love. I've never been in a relationship, and I won't be."

She's not that ugly and some fucker out there might be into her type of crazy so writing it off as something that will never happen doesn't make sense. There's no longing on her face, as with everything, she has acceptance on her features. She softens and this version of her is new.

"Thank you, I know you didn't have to bring me here and you looked like you were going to throw up when the nonce was screaming."

I want to become a kangaroo so I can keep her in my pouch, and so that no one can ever hurt her again. She'll be able to be this person all the time.That thought is fucking insane to me . I tighten my fingers on the steering wheel and focus on the road to resist the urge to grab her hand.

She never calls them pedophiles, it's nonce or sick fuck, or cunt. I keep talking just so I can hear her in the hopes it replaces the sight of her huddled on the floor from earlier today.

"Why do you call them nonces?"

She's so excited about the conversation, her words come faster. "Pedophile is made up of two Greek words. Pedo meaning child and phile is love or loving. It's wrong, they don't love children. Nonce tells you everything you need to know. Not On Normal Communal Exercise. They need to be kept away from everyone."

It makes sense, it's the most rational thing I've ever heard from the most erratic mind.She taps away on her phone again and scrunches her nose up, not liking whatever's there. Her groan vibrates through the car, and she slams her phone on the seat between her thighs before she closes her eyes and grits, "Can I have your car for two days?"

I should be honored that she's asking rather than stealing it, but am I fuck letting her go off alone on whatever expedition is going to get her killed.I'll be by her side, not to offer help because she's more than capable of killing who she wants. It's for something she's never had before, support.

"Tell me when and where, I'll go with you."

Ana doesn't argue and she just stares at the road, frowning and blinking rapidly. Her eyes must be sore as fuck with something touching them all the time.

The scowl doesn't leave as we pull up outside the house and she slowly gets out of the car while lost to her thoughts. Every time I think I've found the human hidden within the hellion, she reverts back ten steps and knocks me on my ass.

She stops abruptly as I pass her and open the front door for her.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

I'm not being nice. I've done fuck all that would be categorized as remotely nice.My anger roars at the shit coming out of her mouth.

"Is it because of what the other guards say? I can just tell you if it is."

I've heard them talking shit, gossiping about what type of fuck she would be. Turning to face her, I fist my hands, so I don't end up wrapping them around her neck and my voice drops.

"I'm not being nice to you and don't listen to a fucking thing they say."

Relief flashes across her face as she sees the tension in my body, violence is comfort to her. She relaxes and goes back to our previous topic without giving me enough information.

"Next week, near the Canadian border."

She doesn't hum or talk to herself as she walks past me and there are no other words exchanged as she runs up the stairs. She's going to take over my life without ever knowing or caring and I step into the house, making sure it's locked up without alarming her window so she can run away and make it easier on us both.