She steps out of the closet.Smart girl,I think, and then I see the fear on her face. It’s washed out completely pale, her eyes round and standing out in the hollows, and her fingers are knotted together in front of her.
I want to go to her, pull her into my arms and comfort her, but now isn’t the time for it. “I have to go,” I tell her quickly. “Artem is on his way. Don’t try to leave. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
"How long?"
That alone is enough to tell me that she’s frightened. "I don't know. A few hours, maybe.”
"What if he comes back? What if he?—"
"He won't." I reach out and cup her face in my hand before I can stop myself. Her skin is soft and warm, and to my surprise,she doesn't pull away. "I won't let anything happen to you. I swear."
She searches my face, and I wonder what she sees. If she can see how terrified I am. How the thought of Ilya finding her makes me want to take her and run with her, as fast and far as I can.
"Okay," she whispers.
Artem is at the door when I leave. I don’t have time to tell him anything, but I don’t need to. He’ll watch the place for as long as necessary, so long as there’s no other family emergencies.
I fucking hope to God there isn’t. Not today.
—
By the timeI leave the docks, there’s blood on my clothes and clinging to my fingernails, and I badly want to be back home and get a shower. As I approach the apartment, however, something else piques my senses, quickening my pace.
I smell smoke.
I’m nearly to my door when I hear the shrieking of an alarm, and I break into a run. I nearly shove the apartment door open with my shoulder as I burst in, only to see Svetlana frantically running a pan under water and Artem trying to get the smoke alarm to stop going off. The shrieking is ear-splitting, and the kitchen and living room are filled with smoke.
Svetlana looks frustrated beyond belief, and when she looks sideways and sees me, her cheeks flush red with embarrassment. She drops the pan into the sink, and when Artem catches sight of me, he stops what he’s doing and backs off.
“See you around, boss,” he says, half-joking, as he walks past me and leaves me to both Svetlana and the mess she’s made of… something.
I go to the living room and get the window open to let some of the smoke out. "What are you doing?" I ask as I wave it out, and she winces.
"I was trying to make lunch. I thought… I don't know what I thought. I'm not good at this. I don’t actually… know how to cook."
"You could have started a fire.” The smoke alarm finally stops shrieking, and I can hear my ears ringing. Svetlana’s face colors deeper.
"I know. I'm sorry. I just—" She sets the dish towel down, and her hands are shaking slightly. "I was hungry, and I thought I could do it myself, but I can't even make a fucking burger without?—"
"Hey." I cross back to the kitchen, and I can see that she's blinking rapidly, like she's fighting tears. "It's okay."
"It's not okay. I'm useless. I can't do anything right."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" She lets out a tiny sob. "I can't cook. I can't work. I can't even leave this apartment without?—"
"Stop." I move closer, and she goes quiet. "You're not useless. You're just in a bad place in your life. It won’t last forever.”
She looks up at me, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "I used to be able to take care of myself. Somewhat, anyway. I booked jobs. I had my own place. I mean, yeah… I didn’t really know how to cook and someone came to do the deep cleaning, but I was at least partially on my own. I wasn’t so… dependent on someone else.”
“You’ll be able to take care of yourself again.” I try to soothe her, but it’s clear that she might be beyond that, at this moment.
"When?" Her voice sounds raw. "When will I be able to do that? When will I be able to just... exist without needing someone to?—"
"Soon." I don't know if it's true. I can’t let her go, and I don’t know how this becomes something that works the way I want it to. But she needs to hear something reassuring, so I say it. "Soon, Svetlana."
She takes a shaky breath, then nods. "Okay."
