Grievous

  “You already took her,” I whisper, my voice sluggish. It’s getting hard to stay awake, hard to keep my eyes open.

  “I merely separated the two of you,” he says, reaching into his pocket, once more pulling out his phone. He presses a few buttons before holding it up, a picture of her covering the screen, a still from the paused video he played earlier. “She is beautiful, huh? So much like you, that girl. More like you than you even think, because she has not broken, either, when I have given her more than enough reason to. She hides from me. She runs away. She lies right to my face. And I know, despite what she says, she does not love me. She hates me, just as you do.”

  I stare at the picture through blurry eyes, a flicker of a smile on my lips as I whisper, “That’s my girl.”

  “Yes, she is your girl,” Kassian says, putting the phone away as he stands back up. “Pity I have to kill her for it.”

  As soon as those words hit me, I shove away from the floor, trying to sit up, but the room is spinning… spinning… spinning… and I can’t stomach it anymore. I heave again, my tears coming down harder as I choke on a sob, collapsing back onto the grate. I try to scream. I try to talk. I need him to tell me he doesn’t mean that, I need him to take it back, but before I can find any words, he’s gone.

  Darkness creeps up on me when I hear the basement door close. All I can think, as it sweeps me away, is ‘this is all my fault.’

  In and out. In and out.

  The darkness doesn’t completely fade, refusing to release its grip on me, as I lay here, wasting away. Brief flickers of lights, the hollow sound of voices, as people come and go, more pills shoved down my throat, the cycle repeating.

  I go to my happy place.

  I cling to it, like it’s all that exists.

  I have to believe it’s still possible, that the world I love is still out there, waiting for me to find it again.

  I have to believe that she’s out there.

  That she’s okay.

  That I’ll find my way out of this basement.

  That we’ll find peace together after this is over.

  That some fairy tales can have happy endings.

  I’m not sure when things change, but slowly, the darkness loosens its hold, the numbness fading as the pills wear off. And the first thing I notice, when I’m conscious enough to move, is that I’m lying on a mattress.

  The mattress I never wanted.

  The one I refused to ask for.

  It’s in the center of the basement, full-sized and soft. Memory foam, maybe. No sheets, but there is a pillow, and I’m once again covered by a blanket, like someone tucked me in. What the hell? My heart races as I sit up, groggy, blinking to try to clear my blurry vision. My eyes burn. Every inch of me hurts, but I don’t think anything is broken.

  Except my sanity, maybe.

  I try to swallow, my throat raw, but my mouth is too dry. My tongue feels swollen. I feel around cautiously, shaky hands exploring my face. I don’t know what I’m looking for... deformities, maybe? Nothing feels real.

  I’m okay, though. I think.

  Sickness swishes around inside of me. When’s the last time I ate? When’s the last time I did anything? I don’t even know what day it is. How long has this been going on?

  Why the fuck is there a mattress here now?

  The basement door opens as I try to get a grip. I pull the blanket around me tighter, alarmed, like the flimsy material can shield me from harm. The overhead lights flick on, and I wince, hearing footsteps on the stairs coming closer. I expect to see Kassian when I peek over, but instead I’m met with the guarded look of a curious brunette. Alexis.

  She clutches a brown paper bag as she approaches.

  My stomach clenches at the sight.

  “Are you hungry?” she asks, holding the bag out. “I brought you something to eat.”

  I just stare at her.

  My head is pounding.

  Frowning, she opens the bag, reaching inside of it, pulling out the contents: a piroshki wrapped in plastic, a small container of pickled cabbage, and a bottle of water. It isn’t hard to tell who packed this lunch, and it wasn’t the young American girl in front of me.

  I pick up the bottle of water, cracking the lid and slowly sipping it.

  I expect her to leave, but Alexis just stands there, fidgeting nervously as she glances behind her. After a moment, she sits down on the edge of the mattress. “Are you holding up okay down here?”

  I look away from her, sipping more water. “I’m alive.”

  “I’m glad,” she says. “And don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”

  She sounds like she believes that, but what does she know? Nothing. She lives her life at Kassian’s mercy just like the rest of us.

  “What day is it?” I ask, taking one more sip of water before screwing the cap back on.

  “It’s Thursday morning,” she says. “You’ve been here almost a week now.”

  Before either of us can say anything else, there’s noise on the stairs, more footsteps approaching. Alexis jumps to her feet, averting her eyes from mine as she heads out of the basement. I watch her dart up the stairs, my gaze stalling when it reaches him coming down.

  Kassian.

  I eye him warily as he approaches, his steps leisure, like he’s got not a care in the world. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his black slacks, his suit fresh and crisp, his shoes shining under the bright basement light. He looks completely put together… all except for the scratches on his face. Gashes mar his jawline, his cheek, before running down his neck. They still look enflamed, swollen, the skin glowing pink.

  I look down at my hands, seeing the blood and filth caked under my nails.

  Guess that was me.

  “Good morning, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the metal chair and dragging it over beside the mattress, sitting down in it. He glances around, picking up the piroshki from where it lays on the mattress. “You do not want the food I made for you?”

  “I’d rather have peanut butter and jelly.”

  He ignores that, unwrapping the piroshki and tearing it in half—a yeast roll stuffed with something, I don’t know, but it smells so good that my stomach again clenches. “Cheese and potato, just as I remember you like it… no onion. Never onion.”

  He holds half out to me and I take it but don’t eat it, despite the fact that my body is begging for calories. He can remember that I hate onions, but he can never seem to remember that I hate him.

  “What did you do?” I ask, my voice trembling around those words. “Tell me you haven’t hurt her… tell me she’s okay, that you wouldn’t really…”

  I can’t even bring myself to say it.

  He takes a bite of the half of the piroshki he kept, chewing slowly as he regards me, before he motions toward where I’m sitting. “Are you enjoying your mattress?”

  “I told you I didn’t want it. I never asked for it.”

  “Oh, but you did,” he says, continuing to eat. “Do you not remember? You begged me for it.”

  “I didn’t.”

  I wouldn’t.

  There’s no way I would beg.

  “You did,” he says again. “You said you were sorry, that you would be a good girl, that you would love me right… and you did. As soon as I had the mattress brought in, you showed me how grateful you were for my generosity.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “You’re lying.”

  A smile plays on his lips as he looks at me, eyes carefully scanning my face, before he says, “I can bring you the video, if you would like to watch.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You do not have to,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly, “but it is true. You were so wet for me when we made love. I can still smell us in here… can you?”

  Bile burns my throat, and I try to swallow it back, but it’s rushing through me too fast. Hunching over, I dry heave, gagging over the side of the mattress.

  Before I realize what he’s
doing, he’s crouching down in front of me, his piroshki long forgotten as he smoothes my hair, like he’s trying to console me. He grabs the chain around my neck, tugging on it as he pulls out the keys. I watch him warily as he unlocks it, unwinding the chain and letting it drop away.

  “Come on,” he says, meeting my gaze. “We need to get you washed up.”

  “Why?” I ask quietly. “What’s the point?”

  “You do not want to be dirty for the party, do you?”

  “Party? What party?”

  “Your coming home party,” he says as he raises an eyebrow. “You did not think I would make the guest of honor miss her own celebration, did you?”

  “But—”

  Before I can finish my thought, his hand clamps down around my mouth, covering it, silencing me, as his other hand settles on the back of my head, pulling me closer. “I do not want to ruin the surprise, pretty girl, but I think you will be quite pleased with what I have planned. You remember how much fun we had at your Sweet Sixteen?”

  My eyes widen, and I struggle against his grip, reaching up and grabbing his hands, trying to pry them away as I scream into his palm.

  “Shhh, none of that,” he says. “You have to be a good girl, like you showed me you can be, and when it is all over, I will answer your question about what I did with our daughter.”

  He gives me time to calm down before letting go and standing back up. He offers me his hand then, extending it toward me. For a moment, I hesitate, just staring at it, before carefully reaching out, letting him pull me to my feet. My legs are weak, my knees nearly buckling. I look down, as he tightly grips my hand, seeing the bruises covering me—some old, some new, a kaleidoscope of purple and yellow, black and blue with subtle green hues, a splattering of blood like dark red paint.

  I’m a fucked up rainbow.

  I don’t fight it. I don’t fight him as he hooks up the hose and washes me. I don’t make a peep, even when it stings, even when it burns, even when his hands are rough against a bruise or he gets soap in a scrape. The water is ice cold, and my teeth chatter, but I otherwise remain still, letting him do what he’s going to do, the thought of getting out of this basement too tempting to ruin.

  He wraps me in a towel once I’m clean, pushing me toward the metal chair, forcing me down into it. His hands are on my shoulders as he leans down to whisper, “Do not move from this chair.”

  Kassian leaves the basement.

  It would be a lie to say I don’t consider trying to run, but running, in my current state, is sort of out of the question. I could do it, sure, but I wouldn’t make it far, maybe not even to the top of the stairs this time before I got caught. So I sit still, doing exactly what he told me to do, until the basement door opens again.

  It’s not him, though.

  It’s Alexis.

  She descends the stairs slowly, carrying a small black bag, setting it down beside me. “He, uh… he told me to help you get ready?”

  She poses it like a question, like maybe she doesn’t really understand any of this, either. My gaze flickers to the bag, and I reach down, unzipping it to sort through the contents—hairbrush, makeup, clothing. I pull out the skimpy fabric, eyeing the see-through black lingerie, the lacy garter belt and thigh-highs to go along with it. I don’t even have to look back into the bag to know there will be a pair of red six-inch heels to go with the outfit, and somewhere, mixed in among the makeup will be a tube of bright red lipstick.

  He has a type, remember?

  I ignore her, getting dressed on my own, lifting up just enough to slip the lingerie on. The brush keeps getting tangled in my hair, so I yank it, pulling out knots without any care. There isn’t much I can do with it myself, since I don’t have a mirror, so I don’t object when Alexis jumps in and takes over. She does what she can… what that is, I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter, either. Kassian’s hands will end up all through it later, gripping handfuls.

  Whether he’ll be doing it out of pleasure or anger is anyone’s guess at the moment.

  Alexis kneels in front of me, pulling out the makeup, going to work as she slathers foundation all over my face. Eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara—all black, just the way Kassian likes it. When that is finished, she grabs the red lipstick, but I snatch it from her hand, shaking my head as I throw it across the room.

  I’m not wearing it for him.

  She frowns, not moving from her kneeling position. “Where is he taking you? Do you know?”

  “Home,” I whisper.

  The word sounds wrong. So wrong.

  That place isn’t my home.

  Never has been, never will be.

  Her eyes widen, panic flickering across her face. “He’s taking you to the party?”

  “He says it’s for me,” I say. “My own little homecoming parade before the big game.”

  “Oh God,” she whispers, her eyes darting all around. “No, no, no… ugh, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.”

  My brow furrows. “What?”

  “You’re supposed to be here,” she says. “This is where he’s coming. This is where he thinks he’ll find you.”

  “Who?”

  “Scar.”

  The word is a hiss from her lips, like a curse springing from the tip of her tongue. Scar. My chest tightens at the sound of it. “Lorenzo?”

  Before she can respond, I hear others coming. Alexis panics, springing to her feet and taking an immediate step back, smoothing her hands on the fishnets covering her legs.

  Kassian makes his way down into the basement, followed by a few of his guys. My heart hammers hard as he approaches, the guys stopping near the exit, blocking it. Back up. He might be letting me leave this basement, but that certainly doesn’t mean he’s going to be putting any trust in me.

  “Suka,” he says, stopping in front of the chair, nudging my chin to force me to look up at him. “You are still sitting there.”

  “You told me not to move,” I point out.

  He whispers, “good girl,” as his gaze travels my face. His thumb sweeps across my dry lips, his expression tightening as he looks around the basement, eventually finding the lipstick before turning back to me. “You do not want to wear it?”

  “Wear what?”

  A smile flickers across his lips.

  Strolling across the basement, he retrieves the tube of lipstick before returning. He’s not going to let it go. Figures. He carefully puts it on me, and I play along, because I’m running out of options at the moment. Really, what other choice do I have here?

  “Shoes,” he says, pointing at the heels, ordering me to put them on in not-so-many words. Ugh. I glare at the shoes as I slide my feet into them, sitting still, not acknowledging him any further.

  He inspects me before grabbing my arm, pulling me up out of the chair and shoving me toward his men. I wobble, my muscles sore, already out of practice with walking in heels, but I manage to stay upright.

  “Take her to the car,” he orders. “If you let her escape, I will kill every single one of you.”

  I scowl as hands grab me, clutching me tightly.

  Yeah, they’re not letting me out of their sight tonight, that’s for sure.

  Men filter out. I’m marched up the stairs, my gaze flickering back down, watching. Alexis tries to follow, but Kassian cuts in front of her, blocking her exit. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “To the party,” she says. “You told me I was going this week.”

  “Yes, well, I have changed my mind,” Kassian says. “I have somewhere else for you to be.”

  Her brow furrows as two of Kassian’s men come up behind her. “Where?”

  “Right here.”

  The men grab her, and she struggles, but there’s not much she can do. One pins her down, holding her there, as the other grabs the chain and winds it around her neck. My footsteps stall, alarmed, as she screams, but I can’t help her. Nobody can help her. The men drag me out of the basement when I try to resist, pulling me thr
ough the club as they usher me outside to an awaiting vehicle. I’m shoved in the back of an SUV, one of the men shutting the door and standing guard beside it on the curb.

  My gaze settles on the door on the opposite side, wondering how far I can get if I jump out and make a run for it through the street.

  Fuck it.

  I slide across the seat, shoving the door open to try, when Kassian appears in the doorway, blocking it. I immediately retreat as he climbs into the backseat beside me. “I am going to pretend you were opening the door for me.”

  “Of course,” I whisper. “Just returning your generosity.”

  He settles into the seat, barking something in Russian to the others. A man gets in the front seat to drive as Kassian puts his arm around me.

  “You will want to be careful, suka,” he says, his voice low, a warning to the words. “I will be killing people you care about tonight. Do not make me kill you on top of it.”

  I pull away when he says that, swallowing thickly. “What?”

  He cuts his eyes at me. “Do not look so surprised. You must have known this was coming.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You let him come inside of you. Did you think I would let him live after that?”

  “But—”

  Before I can get anything else out, he reaches up, covering my mouth.

  “Be a good girl, remember? After the fun is over, I will tell you what you want to know about your daughter, but not before we’re done.”

  I blink rapidly when it strikes me what he’s really saying.

  He wants me to sit idly by while he kills Lorenzo.

  He wants me to see it, to watch, as he gets his revenge. He’s going to force me to obey him, to do nothing to stop him from killing everyone who tried to help me, and he’s using my daughter as bait to make me be compliant.

  He’s making me choose.

  Because he knows there’s no choice.

  There will never be a choice.

  It will always be her.

  I’ll always choose her.

  Before him… before Lorenzo… before myself.