The knowledge should calm me, but it does nothing to soothe the anxiety growing inside of me. Because the real problem isn’t the threat outside these walls. It’s the quiet, persistent pull inside my own chest, telling me that I’m not the man I thought I was. I’m a man who’s capable of love.
That’s unacceptable. Dangerous. Reckless.
I pour myself another glass of whiskey and drink it down quickly, until my mind is blank.
21
ALINA
The shower feels almost unreal. Hot water pours over my shoulders in steady sheets, steam curling thick against the ceiling, the scent of my own shampoo rising around me like something from another life. I stand there far longer than I should, eyes closed, palms braced lightly against the tile, letting the heat soak into muscles that have been tight for weeks. Maybe longer than that. Long enough that I’d forgotten what it feels like to simply exist in my own body without fear humming underneath everything.
The illusion doesn’t last, of course. Reality waits patiently at the edges of every peaceful moment now, ready to slide back in the second I remember what’s happening in my life.
So, I let myself forget for as long as I can. I take my time, luxuriating in the heat until my fingers are prune-y and the air is so humid that I can barely breathe.
When I finally step out, I wrap myself in a soft, fluffy towel I bought three years ago and had to convince myself to get. They were so much money, and felt so needlessly expensive, but afriend convinced me that I deserved luxury. I’m grateful for it now.
I press it to my face for a second longer than necessary, breathing in the clean, familiar scent, and feel my body starting to relax. I lather myself in my favorite lotion and put on a set of loungewear, even though I’ll have to change before I go to back to Andrei’s house. It’s just a small thing. A moment to feel like myself, like a girl who knows how to relax and take care of herself.
This is what normal feels like. I almost forgot. I know I should keep packing, but instead, I go into my living room and turn on my TV. I don’t know if this is allowed, so I play it quietly so the guards don’t hear. Andrei’s apparently taken care of my internet bill too, because I’m able to get on a streaming app and spend a mindless half hour watching some pointless reality show.
When it’s over, I realize I’m starving. I also realize that, of course, I have no food in my apartment. I open the fridge, and nearly gag at the takeout containers that need to be tossed. I ask one of the guards to come in and empty it out, pretending that I just think it’s too gross for me to do.
When he’s done, I ask if he or one of the other guards can run down to my favorite takeout place at the end of the block and get my usual order. He looks annoyed, but promises someone will be back with it in a few minutes.
In the meantime, I scavenge the cabinets to see if there’s anything to munch on. I find my favorite crackers, and hold them to my chest like they’re gold. I eat nearly the whole box before a guard comes back with my order.
We haven’t had takeout while we’ve been in hiding. We have groceries delivered, which is nice enough, but they’ve been mostly microwave meals or cold cuts. Nothing as substantial as my favorite Chinese dish.
I eat all of it in twenty minutes, not realizing how famished I actually was.
When I’ve stalled as long as I can, I get back to packing. I throw in all my favorite toiletries and my toothbrush. I also throw in my lotion and some headphones, in case Andrei decides to finally let me have some form of entertainment.
The fluffy blanket from my bed goes in last. It smells like my favorite laundry detergent and something so undeniably homey. I press it down into the bag until the zipper barely closes.
When I’m done, the room looks almost untouched. Like I was never here at all. That’s how it’ll be from now on, I guess. Until this is all over, I won’t be coming back, and my apartment will continue to sit empty, like I don’t exist.
I need something to distract me from the sadness. I vaguely remember that there’s a load of towels in my dryer, and open it to find the abandoned cloths. I take my time folding them, drenching myself in the scent. I wonder if Andrei can get me my favorite detergent at his place.
Then, I wonder if he even does laundry at his place. More likely, he has a full-time maid, or sends all his clothes out for dry-cleaning. His amount of wealth is incomprehensible. I have no idea what I’m in for.
I’m halfway through folding the stack of towels when a sound cuts through the silence. A softtap, tap, tap. I freeze. Fora second, I think I imagined it. The building makes noises sometimes. Old pipes. Wind against the glass. Nothing unusual.
Then it comes again.Tap. Tap Tap.
My heart drops straight into my stomach. Slowly, carefully, I turn toward the window, where I see Kostya standing on the fire escape. I nearly scream, but stop myself, knowing it will alert the guards outside. I know what I promised Andrei, but I still refuse to believe that Kostya is some cold-blooded killer. He’s just an idiot.
I move to the window and slowly open the lock, pulling the pane up to let him in. I think about all the times he’s done this before. I would complain that I have a front door and he should use it, but he would tell me that climbing up the fire escape was romantic.
I was so stupid to believe him. I fell for his bullshit—hook, line, and sinker.
Cold air rushes in as he climbs through my window, smiling and coming toward me with his arms open, ready for a hug.
I push him away quickly, disgusted by the idea of him touching me. How dare he think he has any right to my body after what he did?
“Alina,” he says immediately, voice low and urgent. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I don’t answer. I just stand there, the distance between us suddenly enormous despite the smallness of my living room. There’s a hurt edge in his voice, and I know he’s upset that I rejected him, but I don’t care. It makes me feel almost powerful.
