I would take a thousand cuts of that nun’s blade over the pain his words cause.
“And for the record.” He jabs a finger in my direction. “It’s not that you left. It’s the way in which you left.” Turning his back on me, he almost vibrates with rage. “Z didn’t deserve that. I won’t let you do that to him again.” He ties the bag and thenlooks over his shoulder at me, lines forming on his brow. “We’re helping you because it’s partly our mess, but make no mistake, Alyona, this doesn’t make us right.”
My hand clutches at my chest to hold my heart together. I can feel every tedious beat crash against my rib.He does hate me. They both do.
I hurry out of the room, the rising mix of emotions overwhelming me.
I’m ready to burst like a dam in the wake of a storm, and I can’t do that. I can’t break. If I do, my sadness will engulf this place and everyone in it, sweeping us all away in the wreckage of my own making.
“What is this thing?” Z asks me when I enter the kitchen, jarring me from my inner turmoil.
He looks like someone straight out of a nightmare or sexual fetish fantasy, I can’t decide. He’s created himself a boiler-type suit made from trash bags. He’s wearing scuba goggles and a pair of my cleaning rubber gloves that are pink with painted finger tips that I found online andhadto have. He looks ridiculous, and yet he’s still one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Your fashion is really suffering tonight,” I say in jest, and then I realize what he’s holding and the question he had asked.
Seizing the sippy cup from his hand, I chuck it in the sink and shrug. “It stops me from drinking my wine too fast.”Liar, liar, house on fire.
Silence drags on for several beats.
“Do you own a funnel?” he asks, finally accepting the wine comment.
“What are you doing with all this stuff?” I ask, cringing at the mess he’s making rather than cleaning.
He points at each cleaning product he has littered the counters with, and before he can speak, Rodion says frombehind me, “He’s making oxygenated bleach. It cleans and leaves no trace of blood, unlike normal bleach.”
My jaw drops. “You can make stuff to do that?”
“If you have enough of a selection of cleaning products, then yes, “Rodion says, nodding to Z and handing him a funnel from the cupboard under the sink.
The way they move around each other is mesmerizing. They’re like two bodies with one mind, one soul. And being around them reminds me how easy it is to love them. Every look, every trickle of their voice is like remembering them from more than just this life. They’re so familiar, it transcends beyond the months I spent with them before I fled.
“How do you know this stuff?” I ask, trying to distract myself from begging them to forgive me. It feels like I have an open wound that’s oozing out my soul.
“Because it’s useful information. You should know how to make it too. I’ll teach you when we have more time.” Zahkar answers this time.
Will we get more time together?
“Alyona,” Rodion barks, making me start. “Get the clothes Jeremiah was wearing tonight. We need to dress him.”
He’s found a bottle of Jeremiah’s expensive whiskey and is pouring it into two glasses, sliding one across to his brother.
“Won’t the clothes just burn up anyway?” I say, not seeing the point.
“It must look real.” He drains the glass and re-fills it. “We can’t risk leaving a detail out.”
“Clothing fragments are often recovered on bodies even after fires,” Z interjects.
“Fine.” I nod to the bottle. “Can I get one of those?”
Ignoring me, Rodion drains the glass and walks off.
Blowing out a breath, I follow him to my room and dig through the laundry hamper while he wraps Joy’s body into a sheet and then hoists her onto his shoulder.
“We’ll stash her body in the garage and then when you call Adam to come over to help with Jeremiah being missing, we will transfer her body into his trunk.”
The idea makes my heart skip. It sounds risky doing that here, but we don’t have a choice.
“So, you’ll be hiding in there too?” I sound hesitant and he must pick up on that.
