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Part IV
Galina (Age Sixteen)
A week after I lose my virginity, I wake up and stare at the familiar cement ceiling of my room. Unblinking, I consider what the day will bring. I’m especially curious about the surprise Vasily told me he has for me.
His dark eyes burn into mine as he holds my chin.
“Don’t worry, my little bastard girl, I haven’t forgotten your special day. Anya remembers her sixteenth birthday, too, don’t you, wife? You remember the special treats you got?”
My gaze flicks to Anya who is watching with fearful eyes. Despite having never liked her, I feel a pang of pity when I recall that she was my age when she married Father. My eyes widen, and Father just laughs. What if the surprise he has for me is ….
“Why the long face?”
My brow knits in confusion and fear. His low chuckle grows, and he moves forward, kissing the space next to my lips.
“Sleep well,” he whispers in warning before releasing my face.
Whatever he has in mind, whatever his special treat or surprise is, it isn’t good.
I move down the hall at my usual speed though the effort it takes to move each limb is a struggle. Every movement feels like I’m walking through quicksand, just pulling myself deeper with each step I take toward the breakfast table.
A door opens in front of me, and Maxim steps out, causing me to stop in my tracks. The corner of his mouth turns up, though the expression beneath is sinister.
“Happy birthday, Galina,” he says through the smirk. “Big day for you.”
I frown and mumble a brief thanks, pushing past him as quickly as I’m able.
Anything that makes him and Father happy isn’t good for me.
Anya has already started breakfast by the time I arrive, and both Krystof and Dmitri are already at the table, both giving me warm smiles.
“Little sister,” Krystof says affectionately, standing to give me a hug. I give him a small smile in return and wrap my arms around him, appreciating the distraction it gives me from looking at Dmitri. It’s been a strange week of hidden touches and furtive glances, but I don’t think anyone is on to us yet.
When my arms fall and Krystof steps away, I have no choice but to look up into Dmitri’s face. I feel my own flame red as I do, and he smiles in response.
“Happy birthday, malyshkah,” he grins, giving me a nod.
I’m about to open my mouth to thank them both when the sound of Father approaching stops me. My eyes widen as I listen to the familiar sound of Father moving through the house. In my chest, my heart beats wildly, as though there’s a bird trapped inside, slamming against my rib cage.
When he steps into the room, we all hold our breath.
“You,” he says, pointing at me. “You’re coming with me today.”
I’m glad he doesn't make me eat breakfast because my stomach is in knots, and I don’t think I’d be able to swallow any of it if I tried.
After following him outside, I get in the truck I’ve only been in twice in my life. I sit with my hands clasped in my lap while I wait for Father to come around to the driver’s side.
He gets in, a smile on his lips and a whistle on his breath.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” He says, and I frown, unsure what to say. After a moment he laughs, slapping a hand down on my thigh.
“Don’t be so fucking dour, girl. Not every day you become a woman, eh?”
“A woman?” I manage to question, and he grins.
“Yep, but first we have to go meet Uncle Alek.”
He says nothing more for the next hour as we drive the seventy-five miles to Rostov-on-Don. I keep my eyes on the passing landscape, my eyes quickly feeling dry from my eyes being wide as saucers. I’ve never been out of Shakhty, and even that I’ve only been allowed to do a few times. The cars, the people, the sounds … it’s all so much.
