AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Still, you could have called me. Given me a heads-up.” I breathe a heavy sigh. “I don’t think I’m up for this.” Four months just isn’t enough. And the change is too sudden. “Can’t I just try next year? I’m already well into the semester, and like you said, I don’t have to read all the texts to pass the exams. I’ll make it work.”
Markus’s tone tightens again. “Clara, this is decided. You’re putting your studies on hold. No more classes, no more academic texts until the audition is over.”
With frustration boiling within me, I badly want to argue. But the finality of his words has effectively shut down my ability to protest.
When I don’t respond, Markus continues in a softer tone. “Clara, I gotta go now. I want you to talk to Grigory about this. You might not like it right now, but he’ll answer any questions you have and put your mind at ease. This is not some rash decision. He’s taken his time to consider and research, and I trust his judgment on this.”
Just like you trusted him not to hurt me,I want to say, but keep the snide comment in. Because I know this is a world apart from what happened this summer. And I do trust Grigory’s judgment when it comes to anything that has to do with music.
But despite everything he said, the whole decision still feels like a major transgression, and I’m still mad at both men.
I plop onto the piano bench and try to play, but touching the keys reminds me too much of this new change the two men have forced upon me, so I end up pacing the room after only an hour. Glancing up at the clock, I remember I was supposed to be in class in forty minutes. A class I’m no longer supposed to attend—from one day to the next.
The need to take back a sliver of control burns hot inside me, so I make a quick decision. If they can be rash, so can I.
I pack up my bag to go get something to eat with the lunch money from Grigory, then I return to the music building and take a seat in the classroom where the lecture starts in ten minutes.
This will be my own furtive protest. Neither of the men has to know, and I’ll regain some much-needed sense of control.
***
The lecture is tedious as ever. It’s a waste of time, really. I don’t absorb any of the things the professor says. But it’s worth every minute of secret defiance.
When I leave the university three hours later, I walk with a straight spine and a small smile playing on my lips. It feels good to take back some control, however little it may be. I’m so frustrated with Markus and Grigory that I barely feel bad for this infraction. Besides, it’s only a small one, and they won’t know.
When I come home, Grigory sits in my armchair by the window, as he often does, and I’m relieved to find that the small rebellion did in fact help. I no longer feel as torn as I did this morning. I’m genuinely happy to see him.
I’m about to smile as I walk into the main room, but I barely meet his eyes before he says, “Did you attend class?”
I stop dead in my tracks.Fuck, fuck, fuck.The secret protest is one thing, but lying to him is on a whole different level that I’m not about to go to. The silence hangs heavy in the air as I work up the nerve to give a tentative, “Yes.”
Grigory’s features become impossibly hard. The weight of his reproachful stare is too much to take, and my eyes dart to the ground. He doesn’t say more for a while, and I just stand there, feeling god-awful small under his scrutinizing gaze.
“Come here,” he finally says, his voice low and deep.
I don’t want to. I really don’t. Yet, my feet start moving—stupid feet, always obeying his command.
My heart is pounding against my ribcage as I stop in front of him, looking down at the charcoal fabric of his expensive suit pants.
I expect some kind of verbal castigation or a hard grip around my jaw and a stern glare. What I don’t expect is for him to grab me by the waist and haul me down in one swift move.
I yelp as I crash stomach-down over his lap.
“I’m sorry.” I gasp, trying to lift my head, but he just shoves it back down and traps my legs between his thighs. Desperate to escape the coming punishment, I try to wriggle free, but it’s no use.
The first smack lands with a harrowing strength that has my face contorting as I cry out. “Nooo, stop.”
I barely get the words out before the next blow follows, ripping into my flesh with equal force—dredging up all the anger I’d just managed to dispel. Pain bursts through my already reeling system, and I buck over his lap, reaching back to stop him.
But my struggles are no match for Grigory’s strength. He simply grabs my flailing arms and gathers them in one hand on my back and fires off a long succession of blows.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
The oppressive sound keeps going, merging with my cries as I struggle against his grip. It’s one hand against two arms. I should stand a fighting chance. But no, his hand is enormous, my arms petite. He effortlessly holds me immobile as he keeps up the steady rain of blows.
“Stop it,” I yell, furious that he would do this after forcing such a big decision upon me. But my words fall on deaf ears. He doesn’t even acknowledge them, and my anger keeps growing. “You can’t do this,” I cry out. “You can’t make this decision without asking me.”
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
