People might look at me and see someone sweet, harmless. They’d be wrong.
Something in me has always felt off, like I came into the world shaped the wrong way. Mom used to say I was rotten, that I tore out of her hell-bent on ruining her life. Maybe she saw what everyone else missed.
But there’s no denying who and what I am: a monster.
All Katherine has ever tried to do is save me from myself. I’ve tried to piece that night—the night I killed my mother—together, but the pieces never lock into place. All that’s left is the screams, the water, and the way everything spun until the world stopped looking real at all.
I let out a harsh sigh, knowing my shift starts soon. I’ll have to drag myself out of this tub, pull my clothes back on, and sneak through the hallway like I didn’t just borrow the staff bathroom at the diner.
But it beats sleeping in the car that’s been my home for the past two weeks.
I don’t use the shower often, afraid my boss will catch me here and fire me, but if I don’t want to smell like I just crawled out of a litter box, I have to sneak in when I can.
At least it’s Monday, and Mondays mean Kirill and Lev. They are the only bright spots in a week that never seems to let up.
Every time I think about Lev, the quiet nine-year-old with big brown eyes that match his father’s, something tightens in my chest. Seeing him is the part of the day that makes everything else almost worth it.
Seeing his father does…other things I don’t say out loud.
Last week, Kirill pressed a folded stack of hundreds into my palm and said, “This is for you,” like it was nothing, then walked out before I could even ask why.
One thousand dollars. In cash. From a man who barely talks to me.
Why would he do that for me? I’m nothing to him. Just a waitress who brings him food and remembers his son likes curly fries and chocolate chip cookies.
Maybe for someone like him, a thousand dollars is nothing. Just a casual thank you for good service over the years.
Whatever the reason, it saved me. I bought gas for my car, covered my cellphone bill, set a little aside for food and necessities, and handed the rest to my sister.
A throb hits the center of my chest, but I rub it away, knowing that I’ll get back on my feet. I have to.
Sometimes I wonder what people with money feel like. Do they realize how lucky they are not to struggle just to survive?
My eyes close, escaping to a place where I’m Kirill’s. My fingers trace over the stubble of his jaw, drifting up to the rose and skull tattoo that climbs from his neck toward his temple.
I picture what it would be like to belong to a man like him. To be wanted. To be looked after without having to do something in return.
Would being with someone like Kirill give me an easier life?
Then reality snaps back in. I know better than to believe people care for free. There is always a price.
Still, that doesn’t stop the images from forming. His mouth on mine. His strong arms around me, holding me like I matter.His warm gaze on my face while he tells me I’m his and he loves me.
An ache punctures through the back of my eyes, but I ignore it.
Stupid thoughts. Someone like Kirill—a rich, handsome, powerful man—doesn’t look twice at a broke waitress who keeps spare change in her pocket and twenty bucks in her wallet on a good day.
But fantasies are the one thing no one can take from me, so I let myself keep this one for a little longer.
CHAPTER TWO
SLOANE
“I betyou can’t wait until your boyfriend gets here.” Mandy bumps my hip with hers as she passes the coffeepot.
I roll my eyes while I reach for a mug on the warming rack.
“Stop. Kirill isnotmy boyfriend,” I mutter, keeping it low so the guy in booth three can’t listen in.
