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“Tell her. You might find someone way more familiar than you expect.”
Chapter 17
“You want it now?” Luisa raises an eyebrow as her fingers hover behind the bar. “We have hours to go before closing time.”
“Now. And I’m appointing you as my Deputy Floor Manager. I’m done with work for tonight.”
She shakes her head but reaches behind for the vodka and makes my cranberry swirl shot. “Does this have to do with your little visitor and the guy who dropped her off?”
“Partly. It has more to do with the fact that I’m an asshole and if I work tonight, I will burn bridges with clients and staff alike. I hate people.”
“Aw, don’t you worry,” Luisa says with an inkling of a smile. “Some people hate you too.”
I down the shot, hoping it will steel my nerves for the conversation I’m about to have. Then I wave Luisa goodbye and head home. I need to have something with me before I can face Jenya again.
On the way to my small apartment, I allow some repressed memories to resurface. The first night after the fire I thought destroyed my whole village and killed everyone I ever knew, I couldn’t bring myself to feel happy.
An irresistible pull toward death made me reach for anything that could take me away from this new reality, where everything was chaotic and seemingly without rule or reason. I was given choices; what to eat, what to wear, did I want to talk? Endless choices, and each of them felt like a mistake weighing on me. The only real choice I made before that was to betray my people.
I was supposed to burn with them. And yet, I didn’t. Damien pulled me half-dead from the inferno, a piece of glass sticking from my belly. I remember the dark red blood trickling out of me, similar to when I first got my period and my blood flowed freely down my inner thigh.
Koschei called it ‘the ink of life.’ We celebrated that day, and I was allowed to have three spoons of????????, condensed milk. Even on holidays of Light, we were allowed one. And that night, my mother and the other women held me down and let Koschei brand me.
I snap out of the painful memory when I arrive in my messy one-room home. I dash around, gathering what I need, trying to be practical and not emotional.
Half an hour later, I’m back in front of the purple door on the first floor of Love and Err. I don’t knock before entering and find Jenya and Hanako sitting on the bed, talking calmly.
My lip twitches in annoyance, but I remind myself I have only one goal for this interaction—not to lose my temper.
Hanako is a social worker specializing in domestic violence survivors, so it’s not a surprise she’s not intimidated by this situation. She’s not someone I can compare myself to, but I can’t help but be envious of her lack of life-altering, violent trauma. Out of all the people I know, she’s the only one who hasn’t gone through hell. She and maybe Ben. Though now that he’s involved with me, Jenya, and the cult, maybe the worst is yet to come for him. And for all of us, if Koschei and whoever he’s allied himself to find us.
“I will leave you two to talk.” Hanako stands up, patting Jenya’s hand on the way. “It was lovely to meet you, Jenya.”
In the next moment, we are alone. The room, with its pale pink walls and soft light, is supposed to be the epitome of tranquility. Yet the walls seem to close in on me, and the overwhelming urge to run tickles my feet.
Jenya takes a look at the bag I’m carrying and her eyes widen. She hides her emotion quickly, a resigned expression settling on her face. Then, she slides from the bed and drops to her knees, unbuttoning Ben’s soaked shirt, her head down.
“What are you doing?” It’s a dumb question. I know exactly what she’s doing. And the realization squeezes my heart like a metal band.
“I deserve to be punished. I let the darkness in.” Jenya’s voice doesn’t falter or tremble. It has the cadence of mastered perfection. How many times has she done this?
An unwelcome tear slips from my eye. Out of grief for her, or for my past self who used to do the same, I don’t know.
I drop to my knees next to her and pull her to my chest. She’s stiff in my arms.
“In this world,” I say with a voice that trembles with restrained emotion, “you are allowed to hold people close. No, it’s a rule. If someone is in pain, you hold them, and you share the pain.”
Jenya relaxes a bit. “I’m not in pain.”
“But I am,” I whisper in her hair. It smells like smoke and the scent of something long forgotten.
She snakes her arms around my waist and tightens them tentatively. I let her squeeze me and nuzzle her face in my chest. I followed Mathias’s wise guidance and remembered what it felt like to be plunged into a new world, where no one would touch you because you come from a cursed place. Even if you swore you came from a village of Light.
I pull away after my head pounds with the effort to keep my tears at bay.
“I brought you some clothes that will fit you better and soap to get you cleaned up.”
I reach out and take a simple cotton skirt out and a white shirt. Jenya takes them in awe.
