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Because mercy or not, he’s going to kill a child.
From the drawer of clothes I packed, I withdraw the fluffy thermal socks Ulyana brought and pull out the SIM card from the inner cuff. Slipping out my phone, I carefully push it inside. The screen flashes. Yevgeniy’s name is the only one in the contacts list.
My thumbs are a blur as I type rapidly.
ME: It’s me. Arsen is coming for you! You need to get Ruslan away from there!
YEVGENIY: I think you should come join us for a family reunion.
ME: Don’t you get it? You have to run before Arsen kills your son!
YEVGENIY: You must miss your mother.
ME: Please. Leave.
YEVGENIY: If you want your sweet mother to live, you’ll have to come to me.
ME: Are you crazy? What about Arsen?
YEVGENIY: Have faith in me. I have a plan to ensure you, myself, your family … OUR family … can be together.
I’ll see you soon.
I sit on the bed in stunned silence. Something grazes my thigh—the prayer beads. On autopilot, I twist them in a circle. Arsen ... I swear, I’m doing this for you. I hope you’ll forgive me.
Pushing my phone into the pocket of my oversized pink sweater, I chew at my nails again. Yevgeniy wants me to meet him. How can I make that happen when I’m stuck in this room? Outside the window, I spot motion. Moving closer, my cheek to the chilly glass, I watch Arsen’s black Escalade and another silver vehicle drive through the plowed snow until they’re out of view on the main road.
This is it. They’re going to do it. I eye my door with a deep frown. That means it’s just me and Yeremey in the house. If I’m going to do anything, it has to be now.
When I start to nervously gnaw my nail again, I flinch; the edge has become sharp from my chewing. I stare at it as my brain begins to twinge. That’s it! Sliding my leggings down, I stare at my pale thighs. Don’t hesitate! Just act! Ruslan is counting on you!
What I’m going to do is awful. Not just because it will hurt, but because it will trigger one of my deepest fears. Dragging my nails over my skin, I press in harder and harder, flinching as the milky skin splits apart. Red droplets bead upward. It’s not a big cut, but it’s enough for my purpose.
Smearing the blood all over my inner thighs, hands, and pants, I waddle toward the door. I glimpse myself in the full-length mirror; the gruesome sight is convincing. Enough so that my stomach flips around. I’ve had nightmares about miscarrying.
Gathering myself, I raise my voice as loud as I can. “Help! Please, help!”
There’s shuffling outside my door. “What’s going on in there?” Yeremey asks warily.
“I’m bleeding! Oh God, I think it could be a miscarriage!”
The door explodes inward. Yeremey takes in the scene with his eyes threatening to pop from his skull. He looks younger than before—terrified of me. “What should I do?” he asks.
I wave my red-stained hands. “Take me to the hospital!”
His face falls. “But Arsen Kirilovich said?—”
“We have to go before it’s too late! The baby could die!”
He turns in place, frozen by indecision as he realizes the impossible choice I’ve forced upon him. “Hold on, let me—should I carry you or?—”
He’s falling apart under pressure. It makes me feel bad for the charade. I wobble closer, reaching for his arm. “Help me walk to your car. I think I can make it if we go slow.”
He handles me like I’m made of eggshells. Bit by bit, we move through the house, him fretting nervously, me adding an occasional moan of pain. I want to sprint, but it would ruin the act I’m putting on. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you to the hospital quickly. I’ll call Arsen on the way so he knows where we are.”
“No!” I blurt. He blinks; I grip my stomach, covering my anxiety with a fake, exaggerated groan of agony. “Please, no. I don’t want him to get distracted on his mission; it’s already so dangerous.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course.”
