“I’ll be right there.”
Another second passes, then she finally nods and slips through the door. I stand there alone for a moment, breathing. The world feels brighter than it should for a gray November afternoon. The pool has been covered with a white tarp, stretched tightly over it. We’re supposed to get snow tonight. I reach into my pocket andpull out my phone. For a second, I just stare at the screen. Then I scroll down.
Micah.
My thumb taps the contact and unblocks him, hesitates for half a heartbeat, then I start typing.
Back the fuck off.
I pause, jaw tightening, then keep going.
You have no idea who you’re messing with. I know exactly who he plans to sell her to if you keep poking around, and you don’t want that. None of you do. He’s a bad fucking man, Micah. Just leave me alone.
My fingers move faster, anger bleeding straight onto the screen.
If you want Heather and her to stay alive, you’ll stop. Right now. Walk away before you get them fucking killed.
I pause before I write this last message. I’m pissed the fuck off right now. Not worried, or hopeful. I’m just furious.
If you show up, I will kill you myself. All of you.
I read it once, and without thinking too much about it, I hit send. Then immediately block the contact again. The phone goes back into my pocket, and I stand there another moment, breathing hard, watching my own reflection in the small windowon the door. My pulse is pounding so loud it almost drowns out everything else.
Let them hate me.
I push the door open and step inside. Adriana is already stretched out on the couch, some random movie playing on the TV. It looks like a comedy where the characters are supposed to be doing something funny. But she’s not laughing. She barely even moves when I come in.
I drop onto the couch beside her, kick my feet up onto the small coffee table, and let my head fall back. The cushions swallow me. For a while, we just sit there, watching the movie withoutactuallywatching it. The meth keeps my body wired, but my brain feels strangely distant, like I’m floating in the middle of my brain or some shit.
Adriana doesn’t reach for me as she would normally do. I’m fine with that. Every day, she looks a little more horrified by what they’re doing to us. Every day, I feel a little less.
I glance sideways at her and see that same empty stare I catch in the mirror sometimes. The movie light flickers across her face, but her eyes aren’t following anything on the screen. She just turned it on so there’d be noise.
A timer on the cable box catches my eye. Lovely. We only have a couple of hours before we need to go to this stupid fucking party. Thankfully, I don’t have to perform tonight. That’s why Alexei seemed fine with beating the fuck out of me.
A sudden knock sounds at the door, and a moment later Erik steps in carrying a paper bag and a drink tray. He sets them on the table without saying much and leaves just as quickly.
Yeah, motherfucker, I’ll kill you, too.
I nudge Adriana lightly with my elbow. “Hey. We should eat something.”
She blinks like she’s coming back from somewhere far away, then nods. “Yeah.” Her green eyes look darker than usual. Sheopens one of the boxes and pulls out a burger, taking a small bite while I grab the other container. Grease and salt hit my tongue; the first real food I’ve had today.
I watch her for a second while she eats. It hits me, kind of randomly, that ever since that night back in Seaside...when she assaulted me while I was half unconscious and nodding out, she hasn’t really touched any drugs aside from the coke when we first got to Moscow.
Huh.
We sit there in silence, chewing, the TV still playing something neither of us is actually watching, the clock quietly ticking down toward seven. I feel like I should assure her about tonight, but I don’t have the energy to even talk.
Somehow, we clean up well. Adriana stands in front of me in the bathroom, gently dabbing makeup along my jaw, covering the purple bruises that refuse to fade. I sit on the closed toilet lid, watching her while she works. Her hands are steady, but her eyes aren’t. They flicker away from mine every few seconds, like she’s trying not to think too hard about what happened earlier.
I study her face, searching. Trying to see how much of her is still in there. I wonder if her soul is starting to do what mine feels like it’s doing—shredding, loosening, slipping away from the body it used to belong to.
“There,” she murmurs, finally stepping back. “That’s the best I can do.”
“It’s fine,” I say, standing.
Her eyes sweep over me, and even though they're dark, I see a flicker of something in them. Something that seems to say,we're in this fucked up shit together.
