That question plagues me sometimes. I can’t think about it too long or I’ll start to lose my mind.
“Come,” Georgiy prompts once more, putting my hands on the ladder.
I move up toward the light, toward Kit and Jax and Casey, who are all standing there, waiting for me.
I remember this kitchen, bits and pieces of it. When I was above ground, I would eat breakfast here, dinners too. But they’re just flickers of memory, nothing more than the clink of a spoon on a bowl or the sound of the microwave closing.
I don’t remember more than that.
Those must have been the days I was loved. Or at least wanted.
When they put me beneath the ground, it was clear I was to be disposed of. Forgotten.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Casey asks softly.
“No. I don’t.” I can’t. I don’t want to be here any longer. It’s painful, too much. Maybe in a while, maybe when I’ve had a minute, but not right now. Not here.
So they just nod and watch as Georgiy leads me out of the kitchen to the front door. He turns, glancing back at the men.
“Burn this to the ground,” he says, his voice low and angry.
I don’t protest, just let him guide me outside and toward the car, and as we drive away, I see the flickering of flames.
My past is soon to be nothing more than ash. A place I lived in for so long, a place where I struggled to survive is being eaten away by fire. Pretty soon, it will be nothing but burnt and charred frames, wisps of paper and dust. Will the people who come to clean it up find the tunnel underneath? Will they see the evidence of where I was buried alive? Will they care?
No one seemed to care all those years ago. No one came looking for me, no one helped.
I was left to rot.
I peer out the back window and see the flames growing higher, sirens wailing in the distance.
I don’t mind that it’s burning, that it’s soon all going to be reduced to rubble.
But a part of me knows that there’s no going back to find what I need. That avenue to who I once was is gone. Now all I’m left with are questions that someone out there knows the answers to.
And I need to find them.
I need to know.
Georgiy insists we head back to the hotel room. We won’t be doing anything else the rest of the night.
No one objects after seeing the state I was in when Georgiy dragged me from that hole. And so we make our way through the lobby in silence, the five of us converging on the elevators and making our way to our rooms.
It’s only when the bedroom door is shut behind us that I feel wobbly, like everything is sideways.
Georgiy says nothing, just leads me to the bathroom, stripping me of my clothes and settling me on the edge of the tub as water slowly fills it.
He is always cleaning me, taking care of me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, and Georgiy just nods.
“Do not thank me for something you should expect.”
That makes me tear up. Just weeks ago, I assumed Georgiy didn’t want me, and here he is telling me to expect this from him.
“Come, sit in the water before it grows cold.”
He helps me sink into it, the water warm against my aching skin. His hands lather up with soap, and he begins to wash me, slow strokes soothing me as much as washing away the memories.
