Page 8 of Anton

He yanks me forward before I’m ready, and I almost trip over my own feet as he drags me across the room. My shoulder hurts where he’s holding me, and I try really hard not to cry, but my eyes are already burning and I can’t make it stop.

It’s hard to breathe and even harder to think. His fingers dig into my arm, and I know this is only the beginning.

“Papa.” Konstantin’s voice cuts in as he steps in front of our father.

He’s fifteen, the oldest and strongest, but even that doesn’t help against Papa. Papa always gets what he wants.

Konstantin steps forward anyway, putting himself in the way, and hope rushes in that maybe with my brother here, Papa can’t hurt me.

“That’s enough.”

But the gun is already in Papa’s grip, and the sound it makes when it cracks against Konstantin’s head echoes through the room.

“You dare question me?!”

Konstantin drops, one knee slamming to the floor as blood spills down the side of his face.

My stomach twists when Papa lets go of me and turns his full attention on him. He brings the gun down on Konstantin’s head again, and my eyes bulge. He will kill him.

Konstantin groans and crumples to both knees.

“Stop.” The word leaves me, but it comes out too small and weak.

Papa, of course, doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t even look at me.

My eyes dart around the room, searching for something, anything. Some kind of distraction, something I can do to help Konstantin before Papa kills him.

He can’t die. I won’t let it happen.

There’s a closed beer bottle on the coffee table. I don’t remember seeing it before, but I grab it anyway, fingers wrapping hard around the neck while my heart pounds and drowns everything else out. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with it. I only know I can’t stand here and watch him hurt Konstantin again.

Just one hit. Enough to make him stop.

I move behind Papa, lifting the bottle, and that’s when my brothers notice what I’m doing. Aleksei gives the smallest shake of his head, warning me without a word, but I won’t listen.

I have to be brave. I have to stop Papa.

Every step feels too loud, but my father doesn’t even notice me.

“You will be punished with him!” He brings the gun down on Konstantin again, and more blood pours from the gash on his head as he starts to sway.

And when Papa lifts his arm to strike him again, I swing. The bottle connects with the back of his neck, and my whole body goes cold when he freezes.

“You little svolich!” he roars, his face twisting with rage.

And in the next second, the bottle is ripped from me.

Tears spill down my cheeks as he comes for me, and when I try to step back, my foot catches and I fall hard onto the floor with him towering over me.

The impact comes fast. Glass explodes against my head, the crack so loud it rings in my ears. The hit knocks me backward, my fingers losing their grip as broken pieces scatter across the floor.

Pain tears through my head while everything around me tips sideways. I try to get to my feet, but my knees fold beneath me and I fall before I can grab anything.

The last thing I see is Konstantin still on the floor, blood running down his face as he looks at me, trying to get up.

Then everything disappears.

I don’t know how long I lie there, but eventually the darkness flickers in and out, voices around me muffled, like I’m hearing them through water. My head hurts too badly to think straight, and even that pain starts slipping away until I feel like I’m drifting.