Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
There is guilt in his expression. The driver speaks to him in Russian, but Alexei focuses on the landscape as though he didn’t even hear.
The remainder of the drive is quiet and tense. My ribs ache, and I can barely breathe. A deep, throbbing sorrow blooms inside of me, overwhelming the numbness.
I have tried and I have failed again.
And I know this man will never let me go. I have only traded one hell for another.
The car pulls to a stop, and outside I see that we are at a private airplane hangar. In the time that it takes me to turn back towards Alexei with questioning eyes, he’s already got a needle in my arm.
“Shh…” His fingers move over my panicked face. “Go to sleep.”
And I do.
5
Talia
My eyes flicker open and shut, a groan vibrating through my lips as I peel my face off the slab of leather it’s resting on. My head throbs and my mouth is too dry. I’m laying still, but something is moving beneath me. Tires, I realize after a moment. I’m in a car, sprawled across the back seat.
I attempt to flop over and my head bumps against something when I do. A trouser clad thigh. My eyes move up to find Alexei peering down at me.
“Where are we?” I croak.
“Just outside of Boston,” he answers. “Almost to my home.”
His answer sends a small wave of panic through me. And the words leave my mouth without a chance for my brain to filter them.
“I don’t want to go to Boston.”
He raises a brow at me and shrugs. “You are not.”
And that’s it. That’s all I need to hear to slip back into my comfortable state of numbness. The walls resurrect themselves, my emotional fortress restored.
I manage to sit upright, noting that I’m now fully clothed. In leggings and a sweater. There’s a brief question of who dressed me, but it disappears quickly. My attention is focused on the scenery outside.
I’m back in Massachusetts. My mind is too fragile right now to accept that. So I tell myself it isn’t real. That none of this is real. But even so, my lips repeat the words again.
“I’m not going back to Boston.”
Alexei gives me a curious look, but does not answer. And so I am satisfied with his silence. My thoughts slip away into the cavernous spaces of my brain and I just watch. The rolling expanse of trees outside of the window are an explosion of colors to my dull eyes. It is Autumn. And this is how I know Alexei’s words are true. There is nothing like Massachusetts in Autumn.
But it’s not real. And I’m not here.
The drive is long and quiet. Almost to Alexei means over more than an hour. I just watch the scenery fly by outside the window until my eyes hurt too much and I have to rest them again.
When we finally arrive at our destination, comfort surrounds me. The house is a fortress in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but wilderness. I am away from the people. Away from everything. Everything but him.
The car pulls to a stop and I try to get out on my own. I realize soon after that my legs don’t work. Alexei heaves me up into his arms like a child and carries me inside. He’s wearing a soft blue sweater that rubs against my face with every step. It smells like him. Like oak and cloves. And cognac too.
He leads me through a series of halls and rooms before we reach his destination. I don’t have time to absorb the details of the house in the time it takes for him to open the door and set me onto a bed. A real bed, with two mattresses and a frame.
The softness is alien to my body, and everything about this room overwhelms me. I have lived in darkness so long, and this room is bright. The curtains are drawn back, sunlight spilling across the floor. I want to shut them. To stay in the darkness. But I don’t move.
My eyes roam over the room, taking it all in. There’s a bookcase, stuffed with books. And a table with art supplies. An oversized chair next to the window. Rich colors and cold stone walls. It is too big, and still too small. And it all caves in on me.
I claw at my throat, feeling claustrophobic, but stop when Alexei calls out to someone in Russian. When I flinch, he steps in front of me and frowns. And then an older woman enters the room with a flourish. She gives a little smile and bow, her eyes darting straight to me.
She is older than Karolina. And she does not look at me the way that Karolina did. She has soft brown eyes and dark hair speckled with grays. She wears it in a bun, and an apron covers her floral dress. If I had a grandmother, I imagine this is what she might look like.