A knot forms in my throat. This is about my gift. It’s always about this stupid thing. This freaking curse that will always keep me trapped. I don’t know if Roman is pretending or if he really doesn’t know about my ability. I don’t want to lie so I stay quiet, thinking of what to say.
I stop when I hear him say, "I know about your gift.”
Pressure falls onto my chest.I’ll never be free again.
He taps a finger to his lips, looking carefree as ever while giving me a prison sentence. "I know you see things. That’s why he kept you."
I look up, stunned. How does he know?
"You told him things. No need to answer. I know this is true. You fed him information, secrets, that let him stay ahead of his enemies.” He points a finger at me. “You did that. Don’t lie to me.”
I nod slowly, dread pooling in my stomach. All this time he’d been toying with me. He knew. I look down at my hands, watching them begin to tremble. I curl them tight, trying to breathe in and out. I’m terrified I caused someone close to him to be killed and now he’s going to hurt me.
"What you did for him. You’ll do for me.”
My fingers tighten around the bowl. I should be relieved he’s not going to kill me or hurt me. I am… but… Nothing. I guess I should’ve known this was the reason he pulled me from the brothel. My “gift” All I’m good for. All I will ever be good for.
Suck it up, Nala.
I do. I lift my head, no longer staring at the soup.
“How does it work?” Roman asks. “What do you need to see things?”
“Touch,” I whisper. “Something…belongs to the person.”
“And then?”
“I see. Hear things.” I wince at the pain of talking. “The past. Plans”
“Is it always accurate?”
He pushes forward on his elbow, his eyes narrowing with intent as if this is what it all boils down to.
“Yes. But…” This is the bad part, the one that used to get mebeaten. “I don’t control…what I see. I try. Doesn’t always work.”
His gaze scans my face, like he’s trying to decide if I’m lying.
“That’s how you helped my father? You touched things and told him what you saw?”
I nod.
“What about different languages? Does that matter?”
I shake my head. “I just… know.”
He shifts in the chair, nodding slowly. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He’s not done. I lower my head to have another spoonful, pausing at his next words. “From now on, you do what I tell you. You give me the information that I need, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
I let the spoon slide back into the bowl. I know what Roman means when he says I’ll be taken care of. It means absolutely nothing. It means whatever he decides. I might not be educated because I didn’t finish middle school, but I learned enough from my readings for the Pakhan. I learned what men like Roman and his father are capable of. They hold all the power and can kill you with a word or a nod to someone else. They could even kill you with their bare hands simply because they felt like it and not lose a minute of sleep afterward.
You don’t argue with these men.
You don’t attempt to negotiate.
You do what they want and maybe, just maybe life won’t be so horrible.
"Okay,” I whisper.
