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In slow motion, I opened the bag to see what part Andrei had chosen to hand me as a souvenir. I gasped as my eyes met Mario’s old, lifeless brown eyes. Blood was pouring out from his ears and nose, making my stomach churn. I was certain I’d vomit if I looked a little longer, so I tied the bag. “What the fuck, Andrei?”
I was mad at him, very mad. He needed to understand that although I was forced into this dirty world where having a heart was a disease, I was growing a particular dislike to the sight of mutilated bodies, especially a head dismembered from the rest of the body. I gave him my most irritated frown.
“What is it?” He tried to touch my cheeks with his bloody hands my I moved my head to evade his touch.
“Why did you do this?”
Andrei looked around, signaling the other guys to give us privacy before responding. “What did I do?”
“This!” I screamed, pointing at the trash bag. “You could have just killed him, why did you have to cut him like that?”
“Because that was what you wanted.”
“That wasn’t what I wanted,” I retorted. “This isn’t what I want, Andrei. This brutal killing, it isn’t what I want.”
“What do you want?” That was the first time in my existence that someone asked me that question, and now I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore. I’d come here with the intention of using Andrei and killing him afterward, but now it seemed like I wanted something different.
“What do you want, malysh?” The question came to me very coldly, demanding. He yanked my hair back and a moan escaped my throat. “I’ll tell you what I want.” His stare spread all over my body like fire would spread through cotton. “I want to kill everyone who has hurt you, I want to gift you their fucking heads and watch you trample over their corpses.”
“That’s the fucking problem, Andrei.” My breath was ragged from the heat filling the room, my head still thrown back from his tight grip. “I’m not a monster like you, I don’t want heads and corpses.”
“Tell me.” He moved so close that the blood on his shirt was smearing on my skin, the hotness of his body melting me. “Tell me what it is you want.”
“I want you dead.” I didn’t know if that was even the truth anymore. “I fucking want you and every other bastard like you dead.”
Intense darkness seeped into Andrei’s eyes. “Guess what, sweetie?” His words came out like a bare whisper. “I am hard to kill.”
He tossed my hair away, making me lose my balance and fall to the ground. He lowered himself to a squat, brushing a bloody thumb on my lips. “There are many things you do not know, many things.”
“Maybe there are.” I shook my head to fling his fingers away from my lips. “But I do not want you close to me. You’re fucking disgusting.” I didn’t know that I wanted to say those terrible things to him. I hated that I wanted to see to this man’s death myself. I hated that he’d just gone ahead and killed someone for me. I hated it even more that a part of me liked what he did, and that part of me wanted to pull his bloodstained body in and kiss him. Maybe I was a monster after all, maybe I was just like my papa and every other bloodsucker in New York.
Andrei’s gaze lingered on me before he erected himself. “I’ll bathe, then we talk.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” I yelled after him. He didn’t turn around or give a response and he disappeared from my view, leaving me alone in the foyer. The ground felt hard and the cold trailed its way to my ears, muffling the pounding of my heart. I stood, straightened myself up, and ambled to my room, taking the stairs two at a time.
What the fuck was that? I closed the door behind me and leaned on it, regret and guilt pouring over me as I thought of the things I said to Andrei. I’d taken out my ill emotions on him but truthfully, he was not the person I was mad at, it was my papa for dragging me into this mess of a world. I was also mad at myself because, for the first time, I looked at a dead man’s head and felt a creep of satisfaction, I looked at a ruthless murderer and wanted to give him my most thankful smile.
I was messed up, more than I actually liked to believe.
My reflection stared back at me from the mirror in the vanity, blood smeared on my lips, darkness over my grey eyes, and a tee that made me look like the Elm Street murderer. Had I always looked so much like my papa?
I pulled the tee over my head, dragged down my baggy shorts, and headed to the shower. There was a very slim chance bathing would wash away the version of myself I’d always denied having existed, but I was willing to take any chance I had.
Warm water beat calmly on my skin, washing away the dried blood that formed a red pool around my feet. Different thoughts filled my head. I’d let myself get distracted in just a few days, only God knew what my papa was up to, and I had to do something before he found me—that’s if he didn’t know where I was already. It was either I go ahead with my plan and take my papa down before he had a chance to drag me back to his manor, or I made a perfect excuse for my disappearance.
I chose the latter.
Turned out Andrei was more of a problem to me than I thought he would be. I’d let him crawl under my skin and couldn’t afford to lose focus. My life and the lives of many other women who would be kidnapped, trafficked, and heaven knows what else depended on what I’d planned to do next.
I turned off the shower and padded into the bedroom Andrei had chosen to be my prison. The bag of clothes he’d gotten for me was still carefully sitting on the vanity. I walked over to it and took out the clothes to choose which of them would be the best to murder someone in.
One of the black dresses caught my eye. I held it up to get a full view of it. One look and I decided it was the perfect dress for the night, a slit dress with an exposed back. The bodice was nothing but gold chains and I was sure it wouldn’t do a good enough job of covering my 40D cup breasts. I guess it wasn’t a bad idea for a man to die with his eyes firmly on my nipples.
That was what my papa trained me to be anyway, a seductress who brings death to men.
Five minutes later I was wearing the dress that fit as if it was made just for me. I’d brushed my hair and done my usual smoky eyes and red lip with makeup items I found in the cupboard of the vanity. I couldn’t tell why my breath had clipped a little when I found those makeup items, and it wasn’t because I wondered how many women Andrei had held captive in this red room—at least that I was sure of.
There weren’t any heels in the shopping bags so I compromised by walking barefoot, just the way I did when I went to Andrei’s club five days ago.
