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This woman makes me desperate. She has seeped into me, taken hold in a way I cannot name in fear of it becoming too personal.
But calling it possession would only taint it. She is the first thing that had ever felt so pure in my tainted life.
“I would say it’s love.” Alec murmurs.
As soon as she left, these heathens were here. I was thinking of taking her to her favourite cafe, but she had different plans. She wanted to wallow in her pretty little flat.
She chose her flat over me.
Big blow to my ego. Fuck me sideways.
“What’s love?” I chuckle.
Roman doesn’t even look up from his game. “A scam.”
Alec snorts. “That’s taxes.”
“At least taxes build roads.” Roman adds and I hang my head between my shoulders.
They are the last people I should be talking to about love. But then Alec opens his mouth, his gaze lingering on the ceiling. “I think love is living for that one person who kills you everyday.”
Roman scoffs. “That sounds healthy.”
Alec ignores him. “It’s watching the same person drive a knife through your chest over and over again…” His eyes drift to me, “…and you never once asking her to stop.” He lets out an amused laugh, shaking his head. “Because your pain makes her smile.”
Roman stares at him for a beat and I do the same. “You need therapy.”
“Let’s not talk about therapy.” Alec groans, winking at me. “Sergei tried therapy for three years. Look at him. He’s fucked.”
“Thanks brother.” I give him a sarcastic nod.
I tried therapy. Didn’t work out. They kept reopening old wounds, scratching at the one raw cut until it carved itself into my skin, leaving behind a scar that’s too permanent.
“What did you feel when your mama left you, Sergei?” One of the therapist asked me.
“Oh, I was thrilled,” I said. “Every five-year-old dreams of being abandoned by his mother. It’s right up there with ice cream and birthday presents. Do you know she never let me eat pelmeni? The blasphemy.”
That shut her up.
It also shut me up. Because I don’t usually bother speaking.
Sarcasm isn’t my shield. It’s Roman and Alec’s.
The night Vasily stopped disciplining me was the night I met Elara. It was also the same night I lost her.
It fucked me up.
It was too much change for someone who hates changes. The transition. The loss. The grief. It swallowed me whole, spitting out nothing but the rotten shell of a life.
I only remember how hysterical I got when she left me. Roman, who doesn’t give two flying fucks about anyone was begging me to open the door.
He forced pills down my throat until the obscure black haze clouding my vision slowly receded.
It felt as though my heart had been torn from my chest— still beating, still bleeding—leaving behind a deep, permanent hollow, a void no therapy nor medication could fill.
Only her.
Yet, I refuse to call this feeling love because it isn’t.
