Long, suffocating days.
My skin crawls every time I step outside. This country makes my blood itch.
I shut it down because I have to endure it.
Either that bastard lied about Russia, or he meant the man behind this is Russian.
Who the hell knows.
But the moment I heard the country’s name, I arranged a plane and came straight here.
I have to drown myself in vodka until I pass out cold. The lack of sleep is catching up with me, and there are moments I’m not entirely certain what I’m seeing is real.
Even when I do sleep, it isn’t rest. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmares return.
My father.
My childhood.
The fire.
The blast.
Over and over.
It hunts me.
All of it.
And every time, the same question surfaces.
Why wasn’t I in the room with her?
I should never have left her.
The guilt sits heavy in my chest, followed closely by failure and self-hatred.
I had men stationed everywhere around that hospital.
Every fuckin where.
I never believed they would be bold enough to attempt something like that.
Which means they didn’t enter as enemies, they didn’t look suspicious.
They walked in as doctors, nurses, as fucking ghosts.
I need answers.
Bloody answers.
And I have none.
We tried the hospital’s security footage. It was erased in real time. Even the man who bumped into me… nothing. As if it never fucking happened.
And I am losing it more with each passing day. Especially since coming here.
Not a single lead.
