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She stiffens, then sits on the bed opposite mine. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”
Standing, I move toward her, quickly wrapping her in a hug. She gasps slightly and I pull back. Her face is twisted in pain, and the sight of it makes my blood boil.
“You can’t be alone with him anymore,” I say seriously.
“Am I supposed to tell him no?” she asks hotly. “We’re his prisoners, malyshka. Or have you forgotten?” She pulls away from me, facing the wall.
I sit beside her, putting my hand on her knee gently. “You’re right. As long as we’re here, we’re all in danger. We have to find a way to contact Arsen.”
“Arsen?” she hisses, gawking at me.
Now that the solution is in the open air, I lean into it eagerly. “Yes. He can get us out of here; he can protect us like he did before.”
“Arsen is the reason we’re in danger.”
“What? No, he’s the only one who can keep us safe!” I shake my head violently. “I’m an idiot for thinking that it was smart to run from him. I should have seen from the start that we were better off in his mansion.”
“Oh, malyshka.” Her eyes warm with empathy. She gently caresses my shoulder the way she would when I was a child. “Can you not see it? Our monsters may wear different faces, but they are the same.”
Reeling away from her, I curl my upper lip. “You’re wrong, mamochka. Arsen isn’t like Yevgeniy.”
My mother reaches for my face, but her fingers push back the hair around my neck until she traces the marks Arsen left on me from that time in the room detached from the house—when he made me beg for him to take me even as I screamed that I hated him.
She traces her fingers along the faded marks before she takes my hand and presses them to my belly. “He’s exactly like Yevgeniy. And he has done to you what Yevgeniy did to me.”
My heart flares with terror. “You can’t tell him about the baby.”
She wrinkles her nose, offended. “I won’t do anything to endanger either of you. I’m?—”
There’s a sound at the door, and the two of us part just in time as Yevgeniy enters.
He’s put on a long jacket, as if he plans to go outside or has just come from there. Jerking apart from my mother, I stand in front of her with my feet spread. He stops short. “You look like you’re ready to fight me,” he chuckles.
I make fists by my sides. “Leave her alone.”
“You have the wrong idea, dorogaya.”
Narrowing my eyes, I peek back at my mother, who’s cowering on the bed. She resembles a beaten dog. “I know what you’ve been doing to her.”
When I look back, he’s staring me down. We’re in a silent war. I realize I can’t stop him from touching her, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. His posture changes. “I’m not here for my Katyusha; she can rest. I’m taking my children to the park.”
Children. Knowing he’s referring to me sends nails scraping up my spine. The nausea isn’t from my pregnancy. My mother is watching Yevgeniy closely, still curled up like she’ll have to defend herself.
“You what?” I ask warily.
“Ruslan has a lot of energy to burn off. And I think we could all use some fresh air.”
“But he was just playing with my mother for hours,” I argue.
He waits a beat. “Would you prefer that I send him out alone instead?”
It’s a trick question. I know I don’t have a choice. If he’s with me, then at least he isn’t raping Mom. Lifting my head higher, I allow a sneer to dance across my lips. My voice is silky. “I’d never turn down a chance to get out of my cage.”
His eyes flash, but he says nothing.
“Higher! Higher!” Ruslan’s delighted laughter fills the crisp air. I can literally see it: puffs of white that dissipate with every thrust his body makes on the swing. His sneakers kick at the top of the arc, and when he descends to the bottom, Yevgeniy is there to push him back up.
It’s a surreal sight. I’m struggling to reconcile the fatherly kindness I’m witnessing with the terrible things Yevgeniy has done. Even if I didn’t want to believe Arsen—and I do believe him—I 100 percent believe my mother and the bruises Yevgeniy left on her body.
