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Mika’s outbursts have been getting more frequent and harder to predict, and I’m still at a complete loss as to what could be causing it.
When Remi explained the situation to me before I took the job, I was confused about what exactly a nineteen-year-old girl could need constant supervision for. He didn’t mention that she had a disability, but I was curious enough to find out that I started the job a week before he initially wanted me in my position.
I knew from the beginning that Mika was going to bedifficult,but the way she’s been acting lately has me wondering if she’s on her way to psychosis. I knew her mother had had some issues in the past, at least enough to get her locked up voluntarily in a mental facility. Why she would volunteer, I don’t know, but I’d hate to see Mika go down the same road.
I’ve already exhausted the possibility that this could really all just be a result of a forced marriage, but this seems like the kind of thing that she would face with a fierce resistance. The Mika that I met would never allow someone like Izet to take up any space in her head, much less cause her to suffer multiple nervous breakdowns throughout the week.
When I pass by her bedroom at night, I can hear her sobbing loudly into her pillow. It’s become such a common occurrence that I could time it down to the minute if I wanted to. She’s become consumed with something so awful, so unthinkable, that she would rather suffer in silence than talk to me about it.
Even though I can’t possibly understand how powerless she feels, it still bothers me that she won’t even try to talk to me about any of it. I thought we were connecting more, and perhaps it was naïve of me to expect her to warm up that quickly after all she’s been through. I’m worried that she’s simply preoccupied with sex, not that she trusts me enough to tell me what’s eating away at her.
It makes me worry that she’s been hurt in some way, maybe in a way that would make her feel ashamed if she told me about it. I wish I could tell her that I would never be angry at her for something that happened to her, but I fear that my projection will just upset her more.
Her refusal to tell me what’s tormenting her has me worried that our bond isn’t nearly as close as I thought it was. Obviously, that could have more to do with the fact that I’ve been intentionally cold to her in order to distance myself from her before the wedding. Maybe that’s what she’s trying to do now. But if the wedding is stressing her out this much, something needs to be done about it.
The fact that she told me to leave the Bratva almost seems like it could have a double meaning. How could someone who was raised in the Bratva not understand how serious the terms of joining are? I would never believe her if she told me that she’s never seen a dead body or heard the screams of a man who betrayed her father. The betrayals that warrant a slow, painful death are half as bad as deserting the family entirely.
Mirali claims that nobody has ever left the Bratva. He’s never seen it, therefore it’s never happened. It’s funny how it works with these old heads, as if their experience is the gospel truth of the earth.
If I were to find a way out, would I even be able to leave? Wouldn’t I want to be near Mika, whether she’s mine or not? Just to know that she’s safe would be enough to keep me around, and in the event that she’s not, I’d be there to protect her.
That feels like the right thing to do, but if Mika doesn’t want me here, I doubt she would be receptive to my continued devotion to her. I doubt that the Albanians would allow her to even look in my direction, much less interact with her. She’s going to be their sole property, and Izet is going to abuse this fact to death.
I can see it when I look at him. Every meeting I’ve attended where he is present feels like the war strategy of an inexperienced, spoiled prince. He talks over everybody, makes loud noises of disapproval whenever anybody corrects him, and rolls his eyes at me whenever I catch him looking at me.
If I were a bit more paranoid, I would wonder if he somehow knew about Mika and me and was sizing me up. I’m certain that he would be devastated if he knew that I’d fucked his wife, especially if he knew how inadequate he was in comparison.
Thinking that Mika was spoiled when I first met her is laughable when I learn more about the males in these mafia families. Not only do they get to grow up rich and uninhibited, they’re groomed to be the king of their own little empire. They’re taught from a very young age that they’re the most important person in the room, because they need the confidence to take over once their fathers die.
When I think about Mika lying motionless underneath him as he slams his hips into hers makes me want to puke. She’ll never cum again, but she’ll carry his children, one after the next.
It’s a pretty standard Tuesday evening, and Remi has been out all day, checking his warehouses and distribution areas to make sure that everything is running smoothly. Everything feels easier when he isn’t here. Everyone can breathe just a little better, and the atmosphere isn’t as rigid and unforgiving. Mika is usually out of her bedroom for longer amounts of time when Remi is gone, and I walk over to the kitchen to greet her.
Maybe I can finally figure out what’s bothering her so damn much.
When I enter the kitchen, she lifts her head up to glance at me, immediately putting her head back down and muttering something to herself as she searches through a drawer.
“Hey, since nobody’s here, I think we need to talk about what’s been bothering you lately. I don’t know if you know this, but the way you’ve been acting is really unlike you. It’s got me worried,” I say, making sure to ease my way into her space.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Why do you keep trying to crawl up my ass about this shit?” she replies, already more hostile than I thought she would be.
“You haven’t been yourself, and it’s starting to bother me that you won’t talk to me about it. I’m literally around you all the time and I haven’t noticed anything different. So what the fuck is going on?”
She sighs deeply, rolling her eyes up towards the ceiling as if I’ve just asked her to fill out an online job application.
“It’s just a question,” I continue, already feeling myself growing defensive and preparing for her to spit at me with her words.
“Yeah, it is, and you’ve been asking it nonstop for the past week. If I wanted to tell you, I would, but the fact is that I don’t even want you here to begin with. If you don’t get off my back, I’ll make sure you’re gone,” she replies, slamming the drawer closed.
I’m at the end of my rope with this girl. I have no idea what she wants anymore. One minute she’s begging me to fuck her, and the next she’s practically kicking me out of her house. I don’t know if it’s something I’ve done to her, but she’s either screaming at me or avoiding me with no in-between.
“You really think I’m just going to leave you here so your dad can sell you like a fucking brood mare? Do you believe that’s something I would do? Really, I need an answer,” I reply, trying to keep myself reasonable when all I want to do is scream at her. Why is she choosing to believe the worst about me? Why is that the version of me that she wants to believe in?
“Maybe you just should, Dominik. Go back to living your fucking glory days in the streets, getting your jaw broken for money. That’s what you loved so much, so go and do that. I don’t give a shit,” she says as her confrontational nature begins to show itself again.
Now she’s done it.
“You know what? Fine. I will. I’m going to leave you here to be auctioned off to your disgusting rat of a fiancé while I get beaten to death in the streets. There, is that what you wanted me to say? Is it?” I shout as I step closer to her.
