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“Your dad won’t be taking her side anymore, Adrian. Because no matter how long he stays with her and no matter how much Bitch Annika and I worship at his feet, only one person matters to him. The one person who will carry on his legacy.” She tilts her head to the side. “You.”
I stand up, meeting her head-on. “Dad said I could spend the weekend with Aunt Annika.”
“You won’t be able to anymore.”
“Why not?”
She leans in to whisper in my face. “Because your beloved Annika is finally going to disappear.”
“No…” Tears stream down my cheeks. All I can think about is her smile, even the sad one, the hugs, and how much she cares about me. She can’t disappear and leave me with Mom and Dad.
“Yes. It’s about time she does.” Her phone rings again and she smiles. “That was faster than I expected.”
I watch her as she listens to someone on the other end. Her brows draw together and her red lips twist. The weight in my chest lifts as if it were never there. When Mom is mad, it means Aunt Annika is safe.
“No, Georgy can’t suspect anything… Yes…I will think of a way to keep him preoccupied.”
After she hangs up, she stares at the fireplace, hand back on her hip and her fingers balled around the phone.
“Is Aunt Annika all right?” I ask in a low voice.
She turns around abruptly, as if she’s forgotten I was there. I don’t like the spark in her eyes or the slight smirk on her lips. “How could I not think of this? The best way to keep Georgy occupied is you, my little bastard.”
When she slowly approaches me, I stumble, stepping back, not wanting her to hit me again. My legs bump against the coffee table and I end up landing on my butt.
Mom stops in front of me, her shadow falling over me and blocking the light from the fire. “Why are you running away from me?”
She glides her nails over my cheek, then into my hair, but she’s not caressing it like Aunt Annika does when putting me to sleep. Mom’s hand is cold like the look on her face.
It’s like being in Russia during the freezing winter.
Mom grabs my arm and I remain still as a stone, unable to move. She dials a number on her phone and sniffles a little before she puts it to her ear. “Oh, Georgy! What to do about Adrian?”
She pauses and I can hear Dad’s frantic curses in Russian from the other end.
Tears slide down Mom’s cheeks. She always cries when talking to Dad, even though her expression right now is still like the bad guy’s.
“He…he fell down and broke his arm…I don’t know what to do! Please come over, please!”
More curses from my father. More Russian.
“Oh, my baby!!” Mom shrieks and hangs up, sniffling, then just like that, her expression turns to normal. “Now, Adrian, you wouldn’t mind making a little sacrifice for your mother’s happily ever after, would you?”
Before I can say anything, she closes her hand around my arm and twists it in the opposite direction, hard.
An ugly pop echoes in the air and I shriek.
Lia
Age twenty-four
Nothing good ever comes without pain.
Since I was a little girl, that fact has been cemented into my head with bloodstained fingers.
I was born from pain, raised by pain, and eventually embraced it.
However, no matter how much pain I’ve had to endure, I’ve never managed to become numb to it. Not even when I went out of my way to train my body for it.
