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52
CLARA
FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER
“I love you.”
“I—”
But Demyen is gone. He turns away before I have a chance to say it back.
Before I have the chance to take what could be our last chance to tell him how much I love him.
Something rustles behind me. I whip around, ready for a fight. But instead of a Yakuza or a guard dog or anything else ready to kill me, I come face-to-face with a woman in tattered clothes. Her hands are up in front of her face, and she quickly cowers back away from me.
I’m holding a gun. I don’t know what she thinks I’m about to do, but it can’t be good.
“Hi.” I slowly lower the crowbar and let it fall to the ground. I still keep a grip on the gun, though, because I don’t know if we’ll both need it in a split second. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m…” Well, I might as well be honest. “I’m one of you.”
She narrows her eyes at me. Gives me a once-over. “You don’t look it.”
I snort a laugh. I can’t help it. “No, I probably don’t.” I self-consciously wipe the back of my hand across my face. No clue if that does anything to clean off the blood. “I killed the guy who tried to sell me.”
Now, she’s the one snorting laughs. It makes her wince in pain; I’m at her side in an instant.
“Are you okay?” I check her for any superficial wounds but don’t see any. “Where does it hurt?”
She looks away in shame.
“Oh.”
She sniffs, wipes her nose with her arm, then nods. “They haven’t exactly been gentle since I got here.” She looks at me. “That was three days ago.”
I force myself to swallow back the bile that just rushed up my throat. “I amsosorry.”
She shrugs. Like she’s trying to play it off as something that simply happens. “That guy you were with? He saved me. And the other guy, the taller one…”
I notice her blush. Even now, in the midst of all this, she still manages to blush. I feel a smile creep up the corners of my mouth. “That’s Demyen. The guy I was with. The taller one is his brother, Tolya.” And then, before I forget: “I’m Clara.”
“Eva.” She holds out a trembling hand, then quickly pulls it back.
“It’s okay.” I offer her a reassuring smile. “I’ve been there.”
She rubs her arm. Then she peers up at me with so much uncertainty in her eyes. “Does it get better?”
I hesitate. “I mean?—”
“Does it get easier?”
Gunshots ring out much closer than before. Shouts fill the air, and we can hear the roaring of several engines rush toward us. We quickly huddle together in the darkest part of the shadows to wait out whatever is going on.
I look at the gun in my hand.
And I suddenly have the answer we’ve both been wanting.
“No,” I whisper. “It doesn’t get easier. But you get stronger.”
Eva nods. Her trembling fingers dig into my arm. But I let her, because I know; I understand.
