“It’ll take a second for the feeling to come back,” Valya tells me, pulling away from me.
“Valya, please,” I beg, “Tell me something, anything about what’s going on. Who has you and Papa doing this? This isn’t you! What has he done to-”
Valya’s slap comes fast across my face. It stings, but I’ve been in a slapping fight with my little sister before, and I know she can hit harder than that.
She’s holding back, I realize, she’s acting.
“You don’t know anything about us,” Valya hisses, glaring at me. Even still, I see a tinge of regret flicker through her eyes.
“Now shut up and eat.”
Her voice is thick with venomous disgust, but again, it doesn’t seem like her. I pray that my theory about her acting is right, and like a good little hostage, I conjure up a sniffle and huddle intomy pillows. Even though it’s not her I’m afraid of, it’s not hard to pretend I’m scared.
She gives me a subtle nod of approval, and slides the tray closer to me.
“Eat,” she commands.
Though my arms and hands are still stinging with the feel of blood returning them, I reach for the tray and pull it into my lap. My fingers tremble as I fumble for the flimsy plastic bowl. There’s no spoon. There’s nothing that I could potentially use as a weapon.
“You followed Mama’s recipe,” I say after swallowing my first sip.
For a second sadness glimmers in her eyes, but when she blinks its gone, and she’s glaring at me again as she gives a single nod of her head.
“As much as I hate you I can’t feed you that canned shit. It’s not fit for a dog.”
It’s the closest thing toI love you,as Valya can say to me, especially in this situation.
I take a deeper sip of the broth as I think. I have to act as if I don’t know Valya’s hiding her true feelings, but I don’t want her to have to slap me again. There has to be a middle we can meet at.
“Can I ask you why you hate me so much?” I finally ask. “Can you tell me what I’ve done that’s so awful?”
I catch Valya’s eyes flicking to my lamp.
So. That must be where the camera and microphone are hidden.
“What’s there to like?” Valya asks, shrugging her shoulders. “You’re just so…weak.”
I flinch at her words, knowing that she partially finds her statement true. Valya’s always looked down on me for my softer, more obedient ways. Always thought I was scheming for something with my gentler nature.
“You were always the strong one,” I say softly, then bring the bowl back to my mouth.
Valya doesn’t answer me this time, just watches numbly as I finish drinking the rest of the soup.
“Get some rest,” she tells me after she picks the tray off of my lap. The lashes of her left eye flicker as she says it. A quick little wink. “You look awful. You definitely need it.”
I only nod, and watch her as she goes back to the door, kicks it twice, and it opens. Without another word, she leaves me alone in my room once again. I slip my hand behind my back, hiding the note Valya left for me, and pull the covers back from my bed. I even go the extra mile of letting out a few sullen-soundingsniffles as I snuggle between the blankets and pull the covers over my head.
As soon as the blankets are around me, I unfold Valya’s note, and read it quickly.
This is not our fault. We’re trapped. Kirill is coming for you and they’ll kill him. Maybe we can stop it. Be ready for me the next time you hear me outside your door.
Fear, worry, and confusion pour through as I read the messy scribble of Valya’s handwriting. Iknew it.I knew she and my papa weren’t behind this! But whoever it was didn’t just want my ransom. They wanted my husband.Dead.And I couldn’t allow that.
So I push my need for answers away, and crumble up the tiny bit of paper. It tastes awful and I know it’s not good for me or the baby, but I swallow it. Just in case my captors get suspicious and decide to come check on me. I keep the covers over me, pretending to sleep as I keep my body ready to pounce and my ears pricked for Valya’s voice.
It’s not my husband that needs to save me. It’s I that must now save him.
Chapter Thirty
