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“Give him what he wants,” she repeats while lifting my legs and tucking the sheets around them. It’s the most care she’s shown me, and I have to wonder if it’s the most care she’llevershow me. “Suffer for a little while, and you’ll never need to deal with him again.”
She nods as though she’s said the most golden of rules. Christ, can it be that easy?Willit be that easy?
I have one way to find out.
“Viktoria, please,” I beg.
But I can feel myself slipping. I haven’t slept a damn wink since I got home and discovered those men—brigadiers—standing in my kitchen like they owned the place. The way my brother’s frigid demeanor fell on me while Pavel split me like a log will forever haunt my dreams.
My eyes scan the room. Is this where I’ll dream? Fuck?Fight?
This can’t be the end.
I grab Viktoria’s arm, almost afraid to break it with how frail it looks. But she’s tough as nails. I can tell.
She has to be able to help me.
I ask, “Is there anything I can do?”
She snatches her arm away. “I told you. Bed and rest. I’ll get tea.” She forces my shoulders onto the bed. “Rest.”
And that’s it. That’s all she gives me. She’s gone before I can protest.
I’m left stewing in the invasive silence with nothing but my thoughts spinning around in my skull.
Jonas, I think while raising my hands to my face.How could you do this to me?
The man who raised me during our worst years just threw me to the wolves. No consultation. No informed opinion. He just threw me out on the street like I didn’t matter.
While this isn’t Skid Row I’m navigating, I feel like it might as well be. I’m caught in a web of crime and fear, unsure of my footing.
How can I do this when I can’t even speak Russian?
I scoff at the absurd thought. That’s the least of my worries.
Anger swells and then dissipates. I can’t hate my brother no matter how hard I try. Our most destitute conditions were always shifted because of him and his connections. He gave me life.
And then he took it away.
Where’s the loving, protective older brother I once knew?
I bury my face in my hands as tears stream from my eyes. Terror and anxiety soak my palms. The sheets beneath me feel like they’re fit for royalty rather than a raggedy girl wrapped up in an old cardigan.
What the hell am I going to do? My brain tumbles through all sorts of scenarios while I sob in my hands. All that talk of responsibility from Jonas returns to my mind. It snaps me out of my hysterical sobbing, inspiring me to force myself to take a breath. I wheeze as I sit up and hug my knees to my chest.
That’s it. Just breathe through it.
While the room is still tilting, I don’t feel like I’m about to fall off the face of the earth. Duty, responsibility, loyalty—these are the things that have been instilled in me since I was a child. Jonas taught me everything I know. He’s the backbone of our family.
And he knows what’s best, ultimately.
My tears dry while I stare at the flat-screen television on the wall. I have a room, food, a witch of a woman with a mean pinch who can tell me exactly what to do—do I really have much to complain about?
Most girls like me don’t get this. Shouldn’t I be grateful?
It’s for my family, I decide resolutely.
I’ll be Pavel’s wife.
