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It shouldn’t mean anything, and I shouldn’t see more than there is, but what am I supposed to think when it feels so real to me?
* * *
My apartment feels so much smaller.
It doesn’t quite feel right that I’ve been away for… I guess it wasn’t that long. Thirteen days. That’s how long ago it was since I set foot in this place. Now I’m here, getting a glimpse of my life. It feels odd to me in the sense that there’s an emptiness about the place.
It’s tidy, the same way I left it with the newspaper on the coffee table. There’s my little sports bag I would have taken to the gym, and my shopping list for the week.
It’s a half a page long and has the basic essentials. I don’t think I’ve had that much food in the time at Vincent’s house.
The first thing I do is go to my laptop to check my emails. I just want to see if Freddie might have emailed me.
I have a few hours here to grab what I want. Another person would probably use the leeway to escape. Vincent gave it to me, though, because he knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere.
I wish like hell I could see Holly or call her. I wish I could explain what happened and what’s happening. I wish I could explain how I’m with a man I’m supposed to be a debt repayment to, and I can’t stop myself from feeling for him.
I couldn’t tell her any part of it, though, even if I could see or speak to her.
As the emails load, my heart all but soars out of my chest when I see there’s a message from Freddie.
It’s telling me he understands that Dad needs me, and he got the message from my friend. The friend must be Vincent or one of his men.
Freddie’s only instruction to me was to take as much time as I needed and let him know if I needed any help from him.
I sigh with complete relief. It’s a relief that I still have the job, and I’m happy for that, although he didn’t mention anything about the competition.
There’re a few emails from Holly too, checking on me.
I email both of them back, thanking them for their messages and letting them know I’m okay and will be in touch as soon as I can.
I think that’s okay and won’t get me in trouble. I won’t be a fool and assume Vincent won’t be doing some shit like monitoring my emails or something like that.
We may be good together when we get physical, but I still need to be careful.
I close the laptop and pack it in my bag.
I head to the bedroom next, which looks even smaller now that I’ve lived in such a lavish room.
I drop to my knees by my little bed and pull out my keepsake box. There’re a lot of things I need to get, but there’s something in this box I want to see.
It’s the only reminder of Russia I have, and the life I once led. I open the box. There’s only one thing in here from that time, and it’s preserved in a little cellophane bag.
It’s a blue ribbon my mother gave to me. It matched my favorite practice dress. The ends are a little scorched from the fire, but the rest is still intact. It looks like a ratty old thing ready to be thrown away. Anyone who sees it would wonder why on earth I kept it.
It’s the only thing I’m able to look at and feel the love I had from my mother. I don’t even have pictures. I’m sure that demon who took her from me would have destroyed everything. There would have been no trace of us, just known and mourned by the people who knew us, but he would have thrown everything away.
Not because he had to. It would have been for spite. He would have burned it to the ground the way the house burned just to be spiteful toward us. His family.
In the end, it was the person who wasn’t family who came through for me.
I’m inclined to say it’s the Bratva way because of greed, but I don’t know that. I think when you’re evil, you are just evil. Nothing else explains you.
When you belong to an organization like that, where it’s ruthless against the heartless, it facilitates the trait.
That was what that demon was like.
Completely different to my real father. Like the opposite. Papa wasn’t evil. He might have ruled with a heavy hand as leader, but there was nothing evil about him. He loved me. My mother and father loved me.
