Chapter 65
2164words
Bruises come in more shades than I realized.
If the purple and green hues weren't patterned across my mother's throat and arms, I'd find them beautiful. Instead, I'm fighting down the urge to vomit.
'He did that to you?" I ask, seething.
My mother whirls around; she didn't know I was in the room. She was in the middle of changing clothes. Yannick told us earlier that we'd be moving locations today. I wanted to pack everything, making sure to hide my father's rose carefully. I've been trying to keep it from being discovered. Now, I've discovered something Mom is hiding.
'Malyshka, please," she gasps. 'I didn't want you to see this."
Shaking my head, I come closer for a better look. The marks resemble fingerprints. 'He's sick. We have to get away from here, Mom."
There's a loud knock on the door. 'Hurry up," one of the brigadiers yells. 'We're leaving! Get your shit into the car."
Mom pulls the long-sleeved turtleneck into place, hiding all evidence of her 'catching up" with Yannick.
'Let's go," she says, shoving around me with her bag.
I don't have a chance to respond. I notice she's stripped the room of all our things, which weren't many. She grabbed the brooch for me, just like last time. Mom is in pain, but she's still looking out for me.
I chase after her. Roman and Yannick are already in the car. It's a big van this time, enough room for all of us. Yannick rides up front while Roman wiggles into the middle. He acts as a divider between Mom and me. His giant, toothy grin marks him as oblivious to the tension in the car.
'You said we wouldn't move anymore, Papa!"
'I'm sorry, malchik," Yannick replies. 'But the bad man found us again. But maybe this will be the last time. But as long as all of us are together, we'll be fine."
'Yeah!" he giggles. 'Together."
We don't drive for long before we park in front of a squat gray house at the end of a cul-de-sac. The roof is sagging from water rot. When I step out, I stumble on the divots and cracks in the beaten-up driveway. This house looks more abandoned than the last one.
'It may not look like much," Yannick says from the passenger side of the car, 'but we'll be safe here."
I scoff internally at that. Safe isn't a word I'll ever associate with Yannick.
Roman dashes from the van, grabbing my mother by the elbow. 'Mama! Let's go inside! I want to see my new room!"
'It's not set up with your video games yet," Yannick warns.
'That's okay! Mama and I can go play something else together!"
I tighten up and stare hotly at the small boy. His open possessiveness of my mother is making my hackles rise. She was my mom long before you knew she existed. I know it's silly to be angry at Roman, but after seeing how battered and bruised Mom was by Yannick, I'm feeling protective. He's only a kid, and she won't chide him if he yanks on her bruises or sore muscles.
She'll take the abuse … just like she does from his father.
She sees me looking and sends me a light smile. Her eyes assure me that she's fine. Allowing Roman to guide the way, she follows him into the house.
'Don't they look picture perfect?" Yannick asks beside me. I didn't notice him creep up. His shadow drapes over mine on the ground. I hate even that part of us touching. I step to the side.
'Whatever you say," I mumble.
'You disagree?" When I don't respond, he puts his hands in his pockets, sighing. 'A devoted daughter should be happy to see her family reunited."
'You're not my family," I growl.
'I'm the only family you have."
I whirl around to glare up at him. Yannick watches me with infuriating calmness. 'Just because you're forcing us together doesn't make you family. You'll never be my father."
'I shouldn't have waited so long to reunite with Katinka." His eyes narrow slightly. 'Stepan poisoned your mind against me."
'Stepan raised me!" I snarl. 'And even if you raised me, I wouldn't be oblivious to what a monster you are. I'm not like Roman."
That makes him flinch. 'I love my son. Just as I love you."
'You don't give a fuck about me."
'That's where you're wrong, moya dorogaya doch," he says softly, and there is no hiding the pain in his voice. 'I will always love my children."
Turning, he strides into the house, leaving me standing in the cold, feeling more confused than ever.
The bed is stiff, but it's clean. I'm pretty sure Yannick must have hired someone to give the house a quick once-over before we arrived since the silken sheets don't match the grotesque exterior. He has enough money to uproot his life weekly. Paying a cleaner is chump change, I bet.
I'm lying across the bed when my mother enters the room. 'Mamochka!" I blurt, sitting up sharply. 'Are you okay?"
She waves a hand at me dismissively. Her arms circle her body as if she's cold, but the room is overly warm. 'Of course."
'You've been playing with Roman for over two hours," I say pointedly.
'Yes, and what of it? He's just a child. He can't hurt me, malyshka."
'I guess not," I say cautiously, 'not like his father."
She stiffens, then sits on the bed opposite mine. 'I'm not as fragile as you think."
Standing, I move toward her, quickly wrapping her in a hug. She gasps slightly and I pull back. Her face is twisted in pain, and the sight of it makes my blood boil.
'You can't be alone with him anymore," I say seriously.
'Am I supposed to tell him no?" she asks hotly. 'We're his prisoners, malyshka. Or have you forgotten?" She pulls away from me, facing the wall.
I sit beside her, putting my hand on her knee gently. 'You're right. As long as we're here, we're all in danger. We have to find a way to contact Asher."
'Asher?" she hisses, gawking at me.
Now that the solution is in the open air, I lean into it eagerly. 'Yes. He can get us out of here; he can protect us like he did before."
'Asher is the reason we're in danger."
'What? No, he's the only one who can keep us safe!" I shake my head violently. 'I'm an idiot for thinking that it was smart to run from him. I should have seen from the start that we were better off in his mansion."
'Oh, malyshka." Her eyes warm with empathy. She gently caresses my shoulder the way she would when I was a child. 'Can you not see it? Our monsters may wear different faces, but they are the same."
Reeling away from her, I curl my upper lip. 'You're wrong, mamochka. Asher isn't like Yannick."
My mother reaches for my face, but her fingers push back the hair around my neck until she traces the marks Asher left on me from that time in the room detached from the house—when he made me beg for him to take me even as I screamed that I hated him.
She traces her fingers along the faded marks before she takes my hand and presses them to my belly. 'He's exactly like Yannick. And he has done to you what Yannick did to me."
My heart flares with terror. 'You can't tell him about the baby."
She wrinkles her nose, offended. 'I won't do anything to endanger either of you. I'm?—"
There's a sound at the door, and the two of us part just in time as Yannick enters.
He's put on a long jacket, as if he plans to go outside or has just come from there. Jerking apart from my mother, I stand in front of her with my feet spread. He stops short. 'You look like you're ready to fight me," he chuckles.
I make fists by my sides. 'Leave her alone."
'You have the wrong idea, dorogaya."
Narrowing my eyes, I peek back at my mother, who's cowering on the bed. She resembles a beaten dog. 'I know what you've been doing to her."
When I look back, he's staring me down. We're in a silent war. I realize I can't stop him from touching her, but that doesn't mean I won't try. His posture changes. 'I'm not here for my Katyusha; she can rest. I'm taking my children to the park."
Children. Knowing he's referring to me sends nails scraping up my spine. The nausea isn't from my pregnancy. My mother is watching Yannick closely, still curled up like she'll have to defend herself.
'You what?" I ask warily.
'Roman has a lot of energy to burn off. And I think we could all use some fresh air."
'But he was just playing with my mother for hours," I argue.
He waits a beat. 'Would you prefer that I send him out alone instead?"
It's a trick question. I know I don't have a choice. If he's with me, then at least he isn't raping Mom. Lifting my head higher, I allow a sneer to dance across my lips. My voice is silky. 'I'd never turn down a chance to get out of my cage."
His eyes flash, but he says nothing.
'Higher! Higher!" Roman's delighted laughter fills the crisp air. I can literally see it: puffs of white that dissipate with every thrust his body makes on the swing. His sneakers kick at the top of the arc, and when he descends to the bottom, Yannick is there to push him back up.
It's a surreal sight. I'm struggling to reconcile the fatherly kindness I'm witnessing with the terrible things Yannick has done. Even if I didn't want to believe Asher—and I do believe him—I 100 percent believe my mother and the bruises Yannick left on her body.
The man is a murdering rapist.
Roman squeals happily when his dad sends him flying higher on the swing.
A murdering rapist who's a wonderful father. If I took a photo of them right now, you could slap it on a Hallmark card. A perfect family picture ... without me in it.
Roman's maroon scarf floats as it defies gravity with each upward swing. He's bundled up perfectly against the chilly weather. His slate-blue coat is thick enough that it hides his shape, making him look bigger than he is, but not older.
I'm envious of how warm he must be. My jacket is meant for autumn, not the onslaught of winter. Burying my hands in my pockets, my eyes trek higher, to the gray-and-white mottled clouds on the horizon. We're the only ones in the park. The rest of the world senses the snow that wants to burst open on top of us.
It hasn't come yet, but it's waiting.
Yannick says something to Roman before strolling toward me, where I'm sitting on the sidelines on the singular green bench. All my muscles bunch up when he settles beside me, his hands resting on his knees. The bench isn't big enough to give us enough space. Hell, being on the other side of the country wouldn't be enough, though I'd take that if it was an option.
'What has he told you?" Yannick says.
He's speaking like we're resuming a conversation. In a way, we are, because I know who he's referring to. 'You already know what he told me."
'You misunderstand me." His smile grows tense. 'I want to know specifically what he told you."
You don't get to dictate everything I do. But I'm angry, and this is a chance to show it. 'He told me you forced Kristina to beg for her baby's life before you shot her three times in the stomach."
His eyes turn toward Roman, his voice growing tender. 'You must think I enjoyed doing that."
'Of course you did," I growl.
Somehow, his voice dips even softer. 'That's where you're wrong. What happened with Kristina wasn't something I wanted to do. It was something I had to do."
Shivering, not just from the cold, I hug my body tight. 'Nobody has to kill others; that's crazy."
'That's because you don't understand what Asher took from me." Yannick lets out a dry chuckle void of all humor. 'He never told you that the only reason I killed Kristina and his unborn child was because I needed to teach him the true meaning of loss."
Roman's giggles fill the background. It's a strange soundtrack for the grim conversation.
The hard line of his neck flexes. It's as if he's holding his breath. Finally, he looks directly at me. His breath floats in the air like a wisp of a cloud.
'Because I needed him to understand what he took from me."
