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“I’m good,” Alek grins.
I shake my head, already knowing how this is going to go. Alek can handle a fuck-ton of pain.
Kazuo slowly pushes the needle beneath Alek’s pinky nail, and I watch as my best friend raises his eyebrows at the yakuza soldier.
“Remove the nail,” Instructor Volkov orders.
Blyad'.
Alek keeps his eyes trained on Kazuo as the man takes the pliers from Instructor Volkov.
“All you have to do to make it stop is say yield,” Instructor Volkov adds right before Kazuo starts tearing Alek’s nail off.
I force myself to watch because Alek will know the moment I look away, and that will piss him off.
Honestly, I’ve seen worse, and I’m proud of Alek when he doesn’t show any reaction.
When the nail is torn off and blood trickles onto the table, Alek mutters, “You have to do better than that if you expect your enemy to spill their secrets.” Then he grins at Kazuo. “My turn.”
“Wrap that shit up. I don’t want you bleeding all over my classroom,” Instructor Volkov says as he tosses a bandage to Alek.
After Alek takes care of his finger, the men swap places, and Alek looks sadistic as fuck as he starts to push the needle into the bed of Kazuo’s nail. Halfway he stops and wiggles the sharp point, slowly tearing the nail from the flesh.
A drop of sweat trickles down Kazuo’s temple, but he clenches his jaw to steel himself.
Alek manages to get four grunts from the yakuza soldier, and when it’s time for him to tear the nail off, Kazuo reluctantly growls, “Yield.”
“Aww,” Alek complains. “You just had to ruin my fun.”
“Mr. Petrov and Mr. Kodra, you’re up next.”
I take a seat and watch as the blood is wiped from the table. When my wrist is strapped down, I suck in a deep breath of air and exhale slowly.
As Marsela reaches for a needle, I go to my safe place so the pain won’t be as bad.
It’s our first Christmas with the Aslanhovs. I’m holding Tiana’s hand, and as we go down the stairs, the twinkling tree comes into view. There are so many gifts, they fill most of the space around the base of the tree.
Marsela forces the sharp tip of the needle into the bed of my nail.
Tiana’s face lights up with happiness.
I focus on the mental image I have of my sister.
It was the first time I saw her happy, and one of my most treasured memories.
The pain increases, and I recall the sound of her laughter when Mrs. Aslanhov taught her how to bake cookies. Tiana burned them all but ate one and told her it was the best thing I had ever tasted.
“Pull the nail,” Instructor Volkov orders.
‘Misha,’ Tiana whispers.
‘Yes.’
She’s snuggled against my side, still too afraid to sleep alone.
‘Do you think they’ll keep us?’
Honestly, I’m not sure.
