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“He dropped off his car at Mikhail’s shop,” I say, staring at him until he makes eye contact with me.
He sighs. I jump up, glaring at him. “What’s your fucking problem, huh? I already apologized although I’m sure you can now understand why, yet you’re still treating me like I did something wrong. I saw my fucking father, you remember him? The man who sold me into the life that now has us all on the run? I’d think you’d have it out for him just as much as I do. But I guess I don’t have your support as much as I thought I did.”
His expression changes as if there’s a hint of guilt but now, I’m the one who can’t bear to look at him as I pull myself away, storming out of the living room and locking myself away in our bedroom. I can’t believe this shit. I can’t get the image of him laughing with the wretched sperm donor out of my head and his coldness isn’t helping it go away. Instead, I start to feel the ugly suspicion that they’re both laughing at me now. And my mind starts to play out a paranoid scene of the wretched waste of space mocking me and chumming up with Mikhail, turning him against me, laughing at how worthless I am, making me feel like I deserve nothing of value.
I imagine his poisonous energy leaking over into the rest of my life and beginning to take Calder as well and then Axel, then my freedom as I grab on to it all with desperation, having my fingers bleed at the tip as they’re all ripped away from me. I feel like my limbs are being stretched in opposite directions so far and wide until they will all break away from the socket, leaving me to bleed out, helplessly, unable to move and build my life up again because what would be the point if somehow this damned parasite would find a way to infect it again? I feel like my soul is floating above me, watching me and I can’t tell if it’s pitying me or laughing at me too.
I check the time and I doubt I’m going to be able to make it to work today, it’s impossible. I don’t feel like I can ever leave the house again unless I’m interested in running into him and being teased with the temptation of tearing his whole life apart and risk losing the men I love. Although, if I’m going to end up losing them anyway, what’s stopping me?
He’s already driven a wedge between Mikhail and me. He didn’t even have to lift a finger. And sure, I still have the love and support of Calder and Axel but it’s only sooner or later until that’s ruined too. So what’s stopping me from busting through this door right now, grabbing a weapon on my way out, staking out his house again, and waiting until he steps outside, shooting him in the head and burying him in the woods?
Hope. That’s what’s stopping me. I’m still hoping that Mikhail will come to his fucking senses. What the hell is wrong with him? I get it, I scared him. I scared them. I didn’t mean to. But did I judge him wrong? I thought he loved and supported me but I guess I was wrong. Yet, I’m reminded of that brief hug we just shared. His words of comfort, letting me know it’s okay. I know he loves me. But he’s not supporting me. My intuition is telling me that he’s beginning to regret his commitment to me and my intuition is never wrong.
I break down in a sob, feeling alone again. And even though I’ve experienced being alone all my life, I had become comfortable with it. I didn’t know anything else so I didn’t know what was missing. Then I found what I was missing with these three men and now being alone, doesn’t feel so familiar and comforting anymore, it’s terrifying. The thought of losing them is breaking me and I feel like doing what I’ve always done, hardening myself to prevent disappointment.
Fuck it, I’ve grown softer now and as much as a part of me was loving it, now I’m beginning to resent it. I hate that these feelings can have control over me. I feel like in some way I’m giving my power away to Harry Burns by having these feelings. Like somehow if I fear losing what I have, I’m giving him the power to take it away but if I didn’t give a fuck about losing them, then he’d have no power over me. There’s nothing he could take if I didn’t want anything and if I didn’t value anyone.
I’m beginning to miss the cold ignorance of my past and starting to question whether finding love was worth it. Because I’ve been fucking hurt a million times over but somehow this slight sense of betrayal is reminiscent of the time I decided I’d never trust again when a false sense of freedom was granted to me with Papa Rick and taken away from me. But I never loved that fucker and I killed him. The betrayal hurts a lot worst when it comes from one of the men you love. And somehow Harry fucking Burns is the cause of all of it. He sold me to Papa Rick and now he’s the cause of this rift between Mikhail and me.
Again, I’ve hated a lot of people in my life, killed every fucking one of them. Yet, I’ve never hated someone as much as I hate Harry Burns and the fucking waste of a womb I knew as my fucking mother. And man, I hope she died a horrible death, slow and painful, agonizing. But this fucker’s still walking around, still ruining shit. Still fucking alive. What’s so special about this motherfucker, huh? Why does he get to live?
My thoughts are cut short by a knocking on the bedroom door. “Julissa, I’m sorry. Open the door.”
It’s Mikhail. And my heart leaps. Maybe there is hope after all.
Chapter 8
Mikhail
Tonight’sbeenalongnight. I went through a rollercoaster of emotions today. I was worried sick. And I hate the fact that she couldn’t have just picked up a phone and called. That’s just the first thing. Listen, I never want to hurt Julissa. I could never find joy in seeing her in pain. But I also don’t want to give her a false sense of comfort. I guess that’s ironic, with this whole on-the-run thing. It’s just that, and I know this sounds horrible, but I don’t believe Julissa saw her father.
I think she’s been struggling a lot with adapting which is why we have those little escapes and I get it, she feels safer when she’s in control, doing what makes her feel good but what makes her feel good can cost her life, and I’m not ready to lose her yet. And selfishly, I’m sorry, I don’t want us to get caught.
She’s been trying to work on it in therapy but I can see her mind going off every time she sees something that could appear suspicious. So I didn’t want to feed into her delusion and I didn’t want to tell her I don’t believe her so I stayed quiet. And beneath I was boiling because I feel like we’re all doing so much to protect each other but Julissa is like a wild cat and you just never know what’s going to spook her. It pisses me off that she would risk our lives just for a thrill. Does she even care about us at all?
Yet, I saw that I hurt her and the pain in her heart, her whole body kills me. I don’t want to ever be the reason for her pain. “Julissa, come on, let me in. I’m sorry. It’s just been a hell of a day.”
She doesn’t respond and I rest my forehead against the door. The sun’s about to come up. Shit. I throw my back against the door and sink to the floor, closing my eyes a bit, letting them rest. The other guys tried their best to stay up but they’re filling the living room with their grunts and snores as their heads hang awkwardly with their mouths wide open, dripping drool down the sides of their faces. I can’t sleep knowing that I’m part of the reason she’s hurting now.
“Let’s talk. I’m sorry. It’s just that you had me worried. You have no clue how much I was freaking out. I still haven’t calmed down completely. I can feel small tremors in my body. I still can’t believe that everything’s okay. Bear with me, please. I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. Come on baby, talk to me.” I can hear the fatigue in my voice as it drones on and my neck bends forward struggling to support my head.
I hear the click of the door and as she opens it, I fall back a little. I look up at her looking down on me. “You should get some sleep,” she says.
“I can’t sleep knowing that I hurt you,” I respond.
“I’m fine.” She folds her arms across her chest.
“No, you’re not. Talk to me,” I insist.
“I’ve already said what I had to say, Mikhail. You already heard it,” she bites out.
“The old guy at my workplace with the two kids and their mother?” I ask, making sure to spell everything out for her so that I know we’re both talking about the same person.
“Yes. Him. Who else would I be talking about?” she asks me.
“You wanna sit down? My neck hurts like a bitch looking up at you like this,” I ask her.
She hesitates a little but obliges me. I smile at her and reach for her hand and she pulls it away. I bite on my lips a little because I don’t want to upset her with what I’m about to ask her. “I understand how horrified you must have been and I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I say at first before asking the dreaded question. “But are you sure the man you saw is your father?”
