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Abbie
As I’m not allowed to attend training during the day, I hide in my suite, staring at a blank canvas. The hours are long and torturous.
I don’t know what to paint. Nothing is beautiful anymore.
I keep swirling the tip of the brush in the paint on the palette, the colors blending until everything is black.
It’s fitting.
Lifting the brush to the blank canvas, I slash a line from corner to corner. Slowly I start to cover the white of the canvas until everything is black.
It’s exactly what’s been done to my life. All the color has been erased from it, leaving me in darkness.
Sitting with the palette and brush in my hands, the paint dries as afternoon turns to evening, and all I can do is stare at the ruined canvas that represents my life.
I wish I was stronger.
I hate that I can’t erase the memories and reclaim my life.
I hear a knock at my door but don’t move to open it. Whoever is here can go away.
When I hear the door click open, I close my eyes.
Nikolai. Only he has the keycard.
I hear movement, and while part of me wants him to hold me and make it all better, I wish he would leave me alone. It’s hard to keep the secret from his piercing eyes that can look into my soul.
I barely have the strength to survive this hell, never mind, fight him.
“Abigail,” he murmurs, his tone soft… almost loving.
God. I can’t…
I lower my head while I set the palette and brush down.
I hear him place something on the coffee table before he moves closer to me.
Hold me and never let me go. Even if the odds of us working as a couple are zero.
I can’t speak the words because Nikolai needs a strong woman beside him, and that’s not me. I already told him there will never be anything between us, and I won’t be able to do it a second time. The first was hard enough.
“Moya lyubov',” he says, his gentle voice cutting through the meager defenses I’m struggling to keep up around me, “you need to eat.”
I can’t. The bile in my stomach doesn’t stop churning long enough for me to eat.
His touch is soft as he takes hold of my shoulders. I stand up and let him lead me over to the sofa, where I get to sit again. There’s a plate of grilled chicken and roasted vegetables on the table.
I have no energy.
I have no will to live.
I have nothing to give to this cruel world.
Nikolai takes a seat beside me and cuts a piece of the grilled chicken breast. He brings the fork to my mouth, and I know if I refuse, it will lead to a fight.
My lips part, and I take the bite of food. No taste explodes over my tongue, and I struggle to chew and swallow.
“Relax. I’m here as a friend,” he says before he spears a piece of broccoli.
