But that wasn’t going to be today.
Because in a “normal” world, this wasn’t right. As his daughter, I should’ve protested for his life.
I couldn’t have, though, because he had brought this on himself through his own actions.
In a “normal” situation, as a concerned bystander, I should’ve called him to warn him or contact the police.
But that wouldn’t have done a damn thing.
My father had zero contact with me and dismissed anything I ever said. And if I’d called the police? Ha. I was entrenched in the Mafia world, beholden totheirrules and laws and idea of justice. Calling the police would be an act of defiance against the Volkovs, and I didn’t want that either.
“Maybe you could go lie down or something,” Nikolai suggested.
Viktor nodded. “Take a nap or something.”
I pulled my lips into my mouth and nodded. It was sweet of them to give me that idea. “I’m not sure I can, um, stop thinking and turn off to rest right now.”
Nikolai nodded sympathetically, which surprised me. He killed just like the others. This was nothing big for them to morally accept. Yet, he was cognizant of howIstruggled, convincing me that there was more than what met the eye with all these brutish men.
“This might help,” Viktor said, deadpan. He held up a bottle of vodka.
I winced. “I’ll just… lie down for a while.”
They walked me to the house. Everything felt off. Weird.
He’s going to kill him.
He’s going to kill him right now.
It looped in my head, making me feel like I was losing my mind. Standing in the shower seemed like an idea to ground myself, but once the water hit me and steamed in a cloud, the tears started.
I couldn’t be sure when he would be dead. Or how.
I just knew that he would be.
Grief swept in, but it wasn’t necessarily onlyforhim.
Not the lossofhim.
My father and I had never been close enough for him to warrant such compassion from me. But I was a good person. I liked to think I had a good heart. I couldn’t have saved him even if I tried. It made my heart ache to consider any senseless deaths happening, but in his situation, was it so senseless?
Wasn’t he complicit in earning a punishment like paying with his life?
I sniffled and wiped my tears away, but they still came.
Hatred mixed in with the loosely defined sadness. Grief was one matter. But this deep regret? I didn’t know how to box that up and lock it away in my mind.
I hated how he’d used me my whole life. Perhaps it wasn’t fair of me to judge him now, at the end ofhislife, but as I thought backto how he’d always been a part of mine, it wasn’t with fondness. He’d used me, forcing me to do a job I never wanted. With his death, I was forced to come to a full circle of realizing I really had been helpless and stuck so he could take advantage of my willingness to assist him at the firm.
“What is it about me that makes people so eager to use me?” I whispered to myself. It came out as a broken plea to no one, and I doubted I’d ever have an answer. So starved for love and attention as I was, I was so profoundly conditioned to want to help and please others that I couldn’t even get out of a situation when I was used. When I let myself become a dismissible thing.
“Just like he’s doing now…” I whispered in this solitude of the water pelting my back.
Adrik Volkov was earning a similar description of what I’d saved for my father.
Adrik didn’t care.
He didn’t love me.
