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Have I lost my mind? Just because the man looks nice, and occasionally isn’t a monster, doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of doing very real, horrid things. Have I been mad? As I claw at the metal on my leg, my nails scrape along skin. It feels good, a sort of release bursting in my chest, all warm and tingly. I like the vivid pain that brings me back to reality, like a cold blast of air waking me from a terrible dream, and the trickling warmth that floods me when the pain lessens.
Kazimir abducted me. He brought me out of my home, here, apart from everything familiar to me. I want to smack myself. Here I am, squealing over books, like he’s done me some type of kindness, when he’s done nothing of the sort. Just because he’s made me feel things no one has ever before made me feel… just because he’s attractive, and in some weird way, he makes me feel attractive as well… just because he hasn’t done the cruel things he’s fully capable of doing, doesn’t mean the man is anything but a monster.
I claw at the metal until my skin bleeds. Blood smears on my nails like cherry juice, staining the white skin. I blink and shudder, then look down, surprised, at where I clawed at the metal on my ankle. Angry red marks burn my abused flesh, little droplets of blood oozing from where I clawed my own skin. My stomach rolls with nausea. What have I done?
The books clatter to the floor when I get to my feet. This place is a mansion. Surely there must be a place where I can go to wash this off my hands? I tremble, walking around the small enclosure, looking for a door to a bathroom. The need to clean the blood off my hands builds, as my leg throbs from the self-inflicted tears and scrapes.
I circle the library four times before I realize I’m not really focusing at all, and I need to if I’m going to find the bathroom. I stand in the library, and really look around me. I feel like someone’s watching me. Without thinking, I flick my middle finger at the walls. I’ve never flipped someone off in my life, and it feels strangely freeing, even as my heart pounds.
“Screw off,” I whisper under my breath, though I might as well be telling a bully on a TV show to leave me alone. He doesn’t hear me, and even if he did, my pathetic request would fall on deaf ears. God, I’m so stupid.
I shake my head at myself, when my eyes fall on a mahogany doorway across from me. Where does it lead? I open it, hoping to find the bathroom, but I’m surprised to find myself in a closet of sorts. I step inside, smirking to myself when I think it’s pretty unlikely there are any damn monitoring devices are in the closet.
This is a strange closet, with none of the typical storage items one might find in a place like this, and it’s huge, like a walk-in closet. There are shelves upon shelves, arranged meticulously in what looks like little storage boxes. I squint at them, trying to see what they’re all about. I pull one down, feeling a bit guilty when I open the lid and my blood-stained fingers stain the lid. I wipe my fingers on my pants, hoping to at least hide some of the blood.
I’m snooping, and I know Kazimir would not approve. However, Kazimir is not here, and maybe a part of me likes doing what I know he won’t approve of in a strange, childish he’s not the boss of me sort of way.
Inside this box is a bunch of things I don’t recognize at first. Pictures. Documents. A birth certificate. School pictures. More recently, a picture of him with Dimitri. Dimitri has his arm around him like Kazimir is his son. Why are these things tucked away in a closet? Does Kazimir know they’re here?
I place the box back on the shelf and walk deeper in the closet. There are several shoe boxes just like this. I peak in each, and find each belongs to a different person. I recognize two from our plane trip here. Is this a sort of memory room, filled with the men Dimitri has recruited to his little posse? What exactly do these men do? He’s mentioned The Bratva. What does that even mean? I’m a well-read girl, but now I’m regretting not having read anything that would help me understand even a little bit more about Kazimir.
And why do I even care about him? The only thing I need to know is he abducted me and he’s my captor. My goal is to find someone who can help me prosecute him for what he’s done, and live the rest of my life in peace, without fearing repercussion.
