5. Ana

FIVE

Ana

D octors are manipulative little fucks. They pretend to care while covering up the damage that was inflicted. The screams are there in my head from when I was forced to stand in the room and watch while the next generation of money makers came into the world. Having Dima next to me is worse. There's another person, a chance to take my mind off it, but I know when I open my mouth, I'll be met with the same expression that everyone has as they wait for me to shut up.

Why the fuck did I leave my bag?

I could have put my book and sticker in my trousers and replaced everything else. Now I'm never going to have steak or the shampoo. I've wasted two days finding the perfect restaurant and searching their menu, practicing what I'd order once the bruising goes, just for it to be taken away.

Amon's tip for him losing control isn't going to be put to use anymore. I'll have to sit in a fucking hospital, and they'll sedate me, push drugs into my body that will fuck with my consciousness. They'll strap me down again, just like Yulia did. My heart starts beating too fast, my chest and abdomen burning from the force of breathing.I can't be strapped down or unconscious, then I won't know what they put inside me. Those were the worst rooms, and no one had blank eyes, they'd wake up confused and just know that something was wrong without any information. I have to know things.

Rough fingers scrape against my wrist and gently press against my pulse point as I bring my hands up to my face to reset. The car rolls to a stop and Dima takes both of my wrists in his hands, making circles against my pulse with his thumb and his grumbling voice helps to calm me down.

"Just breathe, hellion, in through your nose out through your mouth."

Why am I listening to him? He hates me and wants me dead. His exact words were that he'd throw a party before my body is even cold.It would be the first party for me, and he doesn't know that I like the idea, it means I lived and I'm real if people celebrate my death.

But the circles help, and my breathing is still shallow, however, it's enough for me to pull away and close the file that keeps being blown open. Whatever gods, fates, or the universe controls death keeps refusing me the peace of having an end. There are so many instances where I nearly died, but the Grim Reaper keeps missing me by a few seconds. Life's a cruel bitch and death is its mistress, neither of them want me and I'm invincible because I don't really exist.

I'm not suicidal, by some fucked up miracle or curse, I don't want to kill myself. If it happens, there's nothing I can do about it. But after the fifth time of escaping death, acceptance sunk deep into my bones that I can do whatever I want. I'm invincible when it comes to the finale of life until the exact moment it's supposed to happen. Otherwise, Yulia would have succeeded, getting stabbed at seventeen and stitching myself up in a bus station would have done it, sleeping outside during winter would have done it, and every single time after that should have. It never has because life might not have reason, but death has to.Death will make me real, it will prove I existed so it can't touch me, like a superpower. Huh, I have a superpower.

Dima's voice is in my ear and his knuckles touch my forehead. "Are you delirious or talking to yourself like you normally do?"

I slowly move my head back and try to punch him, but my body is underwater and moves too slowly.

"Don't touch me, you ugly freak."

He doesn't shout back, he normally does, but he just lets me go and continues driving in silence. It's too quiet, threatening to open the sorting file, so I speak to chase it away.

"Are you hoping you get to see me die?"

There's no emotion in my voice other than curiosity. He isn't a ��go out of my way to help someone' kind of person. Vlad wouldn't have given an order to keep me alive, so he has no justification for his actions. Looking at me from the corner of his eye, he grumbles, "I'm not that fucking lucky."

My lips move up but his don't do the same.I don't think it counts as a smile on my face, it never looks like the sticker when I do it.

He doesn't go to the nearest hospital but a private one and I push my fists through my pocket to hold the money I have left. A private hospital will be more expensive. Meaning I'll have to spend more and there are only two more days until TRR host.

I'm so close to my goal. I don't even think it's about Nina anymore, she's just a placeholder for hope.

Pulling up outside of the hospital, he parks like an inconsiderate dickhead and grunts at me to get out. His humanity has run out but it's better like this. Hate is neutral, nice is frightening. The nicest person I ever met liked the most depraved shit, he was sweet and kind. He always offered me a drink when I'd take the girls for their visits and then he'd sit at the piano playing the most beautiful pieces while they stared at a wall, waiting for their minds to switch back on.He would buy me things too, nothing expensive or remotely special, but he'd buy me chocolates. Little caramel truffles that were just mine and shoes that didn't hurt my feet.

I should hate him. I should hate every one of them who gave me memories or interaction. They should turn my stomach and my mind should revolt at the warm feelings. But if I do, my entire life is dark, there are no little sparks. So, I have to separate them, rationalize that the sick cunt who paid �200,000 for a seven-year-old girl to be amputated isn't the same person who taught me about wine and art. The sick bastard who set his dog on a chained child isn't the same person who took me on a helicopter ride of his vineyard.

But I can't do it totally, there's a part of me that refuses to accept it and knows that I'm not allowed to exist because I helped them. I was there and I trained them all. I took them to the clients, I stayed with them. It doesn't matter if I wanted it to stop, or if I tried to kill everyone, it wasn't enough because it still happened and now I'm a ghost.

I'm lost in my conflicting thoughts as we walk into the hospital and the entire room freezes. Eyes full of pity land on me before they go over my shoulder and quickly dart away with disgust. I haven't seen my face but I'm assuming it's bad given the reaction.

The only person who dares to look in Dima's direction doesn't make it past his chest as a doctor approaches us. My skin crawls despite the warmth he's trying to put into his smile. And then the temperature turns arctic, and everyone freezes in sheer terror as the doors open behind us. Turning my head to see what's caused it, I ignore the pain as I roll my eyes.

Great, I'm stuck in a hospital with evil and eviler. Vlad's hate isn't cold, he's what I always imagined in an older brother when I've seen how he interacts with Valentin and Vitali. But I'd kill myself if I was related to the arrogant piece of shit. He doesn't react to my current state and makes no attempt to lower his voice as we follow the doctor.

"I thought it was Katya, I wasted my time for nothing."

He can fuck off. I never asked him to be here. I don't even want to fucking be here.

The doctor doesn't act like ones I've met before. He doesn't linger or ask about my sexual history, he doesn't even ask about birth control. He gets even weirder as he hands me a gown and holds the door open, silently instructing evil and eviler to wait outside while I change.

"You can pull the curtain across and open it when you're ready for us to come back in."

He's doing his job wrong. The door clicks closed, and I drag the fancy paper curtain around the bed before I change. I keep my underwear and socks on, so he doesn't know my weakness and hold the back of the gown closed. My body aches when I try to fasten the knot, so I fold the fabric under me and wait without moving the curtain so I can delay it all. I don't know what's going to happen, this room has no stirrups. There are no injections set up like a factory line and it's fully private with plush furnishings.

Dropping my head back against the cushions, I close my eyes and stroke my fingers along the edge of the soft sheets. The pillows are like clouds and the mattress is soft. I always thought hospitals, even normal ones, had horrible beds and food. The shows I watched always had jokes about them as a societal reference point.If they were wrong then all the other things were wrong too. It doesn't matter anyway since I don't have friends so I can't copy them like I thought I could.

The anticipation is worse, so I lean over and grip the curtain to drag it open without opening my eyes. My contacts are itching, my eyes are too dry and they're sticking to my eyelids when I blink. The doctor comes back in with the two dickheads who stand like guards, their arms crossed, and faces set in straight lines. He comes to my side and explains everything he's going to do before touching me. I'm not some weak little flower that's going to flinch when I lasted six hours with Amon at his worst for fuck's sake.

Nodding along where I'm supposed to, I suck in a breath as he presses against my stomach with his fingers. He moves further up, and I band my arm across my waist to hide the older scars and my tattoo, but it causes the gown to slip off my shoulder.

Vlad narrows his eyes at the joint and I quickly pull it up. Weird fuck, it's only a shoulder, there's nothing even on it that's interesting. My other one has my tattoo, skulls and roses mixing with cathedrals and art reaching my wrist. Everything I've always wanted to see lives on my skin so I can look at it whenever I want.If Dima steals my money, then I won't be able to finish it. I hope I can, I want a spaceship and little aliens to fill up my other arm.

The doctor has a calm soothing voice but there's fear in his eyes as he holds his stethoscope and asks me to lean forward. My eyes close knowing what he's going to see. The mottled skin reaching around my ribs, it doesn't go up high enough to be seen in the dresses I was required to wear. Yulia and Marlo made sure I'd always be pristine while working �� because no one wants to buy beauty from something ugly .

He moves the cold flat metal around my back, but he hesitates, seeing the tattoo between my shoulder blades. He doesn't have a Russian name so he must only know the meaning behind it due to working with the Bratva. I want to tell him it's not true, that I didn't touch any of the children like that and I was forced to teach them. I've never seen it fully; I wonder if it's grown with me. The poorly done two-inch mermaid has his judgement and if he's normal, he's going to stop being nice. If he's like the doctors I know, he's going to show me videos and tell me stories. I don't want to know them and then I'll have to deal with Vlad hitting me when I kill the doctor on his payroll.

The doctor steps back once he's done listening to my lungs and he doesn't address anyone other than me.

"I'll get a technician to do an ultrasound and then we'll go from there."

I know what they're used for, and I don't need it, so I say, "I'm not pregnant."

There's no chance when I don't have periods and I haven't had to let anyone touch me in two years. Evil and eviler snicker like fucking children and one of them mumbles under their breath.

"Thank fuck."

He doesn't say anything and remains professional, explaining it's to check my organs before leaving. I thought he was going to be a good doctor, but he leaves them behind. He's still speaking to me the same despite seeing the tattoo so he can't be normal. But Vlad is here, he'd know if the doctor was a nonce because he plays the same game as me. Dima stands at the door checking we're alone while Vlad moves closer with his no-bullshit tone.

"Are you going to make me look weak?"

Dickhead. I'm alive, I survived what no one else could. I don't tell him that or he'll go in a mood thinking Amon is a threat to the Bratva when he's just a normal psycho instead of an affiliated one.Oh, I wonder if Amon is my friend. He might be, I know where he lives, and we technically have a common interest even if he pays me to be there.

I brush the thoughts away for another time as Dima clears his throat. I stare straight ahead at my hoodie so no one can take the money wrapped inside it, and my voice comes out bored.

"It's a private matter, nothing to do with you."

Vlad doesn't argue and Dima has another burst of humanity as his eyes soften. I don't need anyone's fucking pity. Nothing has happened to me that I didn't choose. I wasn't mugged or viciously brutalized as I walked home. I was paid for a service, and it may be different than what I trained others to do but all I know is how to earn from my body. Whether it's fighting or fucking. These dumb fucks wouldn't understand that with their happy little lives and people who talk to them.

Vlad finally fucks off and I deflate when Dima stays behind. My eyes burn with internal and external irritation, and I close them, getting peace. Humming a song in my head makes me feel better. I don't know where I heard it, but it's always been there, without any words, just a rhythm. I might have made it up and convinced myself of familiarity when I was in my hopeful stage.The hopeful stage was stupid, and it was before I became Ana, back when I had no name and I thought that I could stop it all, stop Yulia.

Something touches my cheek and I flinch, blinking as my vision blurs. The abrupt movement has my contacts sticking to my dry eyeballs until I blink a few more times to set them back in place. Dima's ugly face is above me and he does that weird thing of staring into my eyes as he speaks quietly without adjusting his roughness.

"They're going to do the scan, you fell asleep."

I didn't dream, the bastard woke me up when I wasn't being punished. Fucking prick.

Ignoring his presence, I lay flat and stare at the ceiling. All public buildings have the weird tiles with little dots in them. Do they buy them from the same place? Even in different countries they have them and I've always wondered if there's a big warehouse that makes each square for everyone in the world. They must earn a fortune if it's been monopolized. If I had a normal life, that's what I'd do. Make something really simple that everyone needs and never thinks about, then I'd be rich without having to be around people. Island rich.