AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Yan nods, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offering me one. “You want to come outside with me?”
I glance over to Vera, and the idea of leaving her alone for even a minute feels like the ultimate betrayal. Her eyes widen as she watches me consider going out, but I choose to suppress the gnawing grip of nicotine as my body begs me for it.
But she’s worth it.
“No, I think I’m good. Thanks, though.”
23
Vera
It’s been a week and a half now, and I’m beginning to feel a persistent sense of dread and apprehension creeping up on me.
I thought it would be easy enough to lie low and hide out in Ruslan’s house, and to be fair, we haven’t been attacked by anyone yet. He figured that another attack would’ve happened within the first few days after Misha was killed, so he’s much less tense than he was when this all started.
But the problem is that I’m growing restless.
I’ve been trying to convince Ruslan that it would be alright for us to leave the house once in a while, even if all we do is go for a walk together. However, he’s hesitant about being spotted in case Johan is choosing to play the long game.
The whole thing is starting to feel tiresome. I feel awful for it, especially since it was my choice to leave my studies behind to follow Ruslan on his pursuit for revenge. But Yan was right to be suspicious of my ability to cope.
Even when I was doing nothing but wandering campus between classes with nowhere to go, I was free. I could walk down to the river near my school, watching the fish come in as the snow began to melt earlier in the year.
It was lonely, but I still had autonomy.
I can’t blame Ruslan for being upset about his brother’s death, especially given the circumstances. How could I? He still holds himself responsible for the shooting because he chose to meet with Johan instead of checking in with Misha. That kind of self-guilt would destroy anyone.
But how the hell am I supposed to help him feel better?
To make matters worse, I’ve been receiving threatening texts from multiple unknown numbers, probably from Eric. The content of the messages is all the same, and being intimidating is completely antithetical to Eric’s being. He’s just a rich kid with a loud mouth.
It’s the fact that I can’t tell Ruslan about it that makes me nervous.
I could ignore the messages, just like I have been since we scoured the fairgrounds for the stray bullet casing. Eric doesn’t have enough skin in the game to continue pursuing me for much longer, especially not once enough time has passed.
But when will enough time have passed?
When will I feel safe again?
I can’t help but tell myself that my hesitation about Ruslan’s mission will be my undoing.
He’s already made it clear to both Yan and me that he has complete trust in my ability to ride this out with him. For some reason or another, he holds me in high regard in comparison to other “civilians”, as he so affectionately calls them.
Letting him down would paint me as a fraud and a failure, and I’m already failing at starting my life as a young adult. If I could succeed at meeting his expectations, I might actually have accomplished something.
The days have been bleeding into each other a lot though, and I’m becoming stir crazy like I’ve never been before.
For a few days, I thought that my manic pacing was attributed to PMS, and I dreaded the moment that I had to ask Ruslan to buy me tampons like an embarrassed teenager.
Now that I’m a week late, my worries are compounding by the hour.
I wasn’t paying attention to my cycle at all when I met Ruslan. There was no reason to – it’s not like I was actively dating or having sex with anyone. My periods just kind of came and went for months on end with very few deviations.
It’s not like I’m completely oblivious to the risks of unprotected sex. Despite my public school education, my mother wasveryproactive about making sure I knew the importance of contraception and safety regarding pregnancy.
It wasn’t for me, it was for her. She was terrified that she’d have to raise my child if I got pregnant in high school, and I don’t blame her. She needed to do everything in her power to ensure that there were no gaps in my understanding of reproduction.
“Yes, you can get pregnant from just precum. Don’t let any man tell you otherwise, ever,”she’d say, aggressively stirring a bowl of cake batter by hand as I searched her eyes for a deeper meaning.“And you can obviously still get pregnant if you’re on top. Men will say and do literally anything to have sex without a condom. It’s pathetic.”
