Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I know,” I say but my voice sounds very distant. “You should go see a doctor.”
“I’m fine.”
“Please, Valentin, go see a doctor.” I pull my hands from his and step away. “I think I need some time to process.”
I can tell it kills him. The pain in his expression wounds me even deeper and my pain doubles as I cut out his heart. I hate myself for it, hate everything about this situation, and yet I don’t know what else I can do.
I tumble into a very deep, very dark depression.
I’m not stupid. I know that we have no leverage without Arsen. An exchange for my mother was only possible when we had a hostage worth exchanging for, and now without Aram’s son, we have nothing.
And it didn’t even matter in the first place. He clearly doesn’t care about his son. Why would he care about anyone else? Valentin could go out and kidnap a dozen Armenian soldiers, and Aram would happily sacrifice every single one of them to win his petty little war.
I’m never going to see my mother again.
Just like I’m never going to see my father.
I spiral hard. I try to resist it, but all I feel is a thick, black sludge in my veins. The blackness is impossible to resist, and I spend the rest of the day in bed like my body can’t handle being around anyone else. I hide away in the guest room again, and when Valentin comes to see me, I send him away.
He doesn’t argue. I think he feels too guilty, and that only makes my pain worse.
My suffering is making Valentin suffer too.
But that’s not enough to change anything.
A day goes by. Nikkita comes in, rips the blankets off and opens the curtains. She makes me drink some tea and watches while I eat a bowl of cereal.
The moment she’s gone, I crawl back into my cage.
The process repeats several more times. I hide away, Nikkita tries to force me out, I retreat again. I know that this isn’t going to fix anything, but I keep seeing my mother in my mind, and I know she’s suffering. Her burn wounds were bad, and now she’s under the care of a man that would kill his own son if it meant getting what he wanted.
My mother doesn’t stand a chance.
She’ll suffer deeply whenever they decide to wake her up. If they ever wake her. I hope for a quick death but that makes me sob so hard I nearly throw up.
Valentin comes into the room several times over the next three days. He sits with me, touches my hand, and tries to coax me back to the world.
It nearly works. If there’s anyone that can drag me out of this, it’s him.
But he’s too busy, and the second he leaves is the second I spiral out of control again.
I know things are happening. There are fights going down in Baltimore. Russian men are killing Armenians, a whole string of targeted murders. Blood’s flowing in the streets and the cops are struggling to contain the brutality.
Valentin is going to tear that city apart.
And I don’t care, because it won’t make a difference.
After three days, Nikkita comes in and makes me shower. “You smell like a teenager’s sock drawer,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “And you look terrible. Do you want your husband to see you this way?”
“My husband? I almost forgot about him.”
“Stupid girl,” she grumbles and pushes me into the bathroom. “He loves you. That man is slaughtering an entire city for you, and you sit in here and sulk like a child.”
“Is this tough love supposed to work?”
“There is no love. Only tough.” She starts the shower and crosses her arms. “Get in.”
“Are you seriously going to just stand there?”
“I’ve seen tits before. Get in now.”
I glare at her. She glares right back. And all at once, my resolve fails me, and I strip down like a robot. I’m numb, and it doesn’t matter if she’s looking at my body while I mechanically wash myself. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before.
She leaves once I’m finished and dressed. I sit on the edge of the bed, already debating if I should get back under the covers, when my phone starts to ring.
I stare at the screen, expecting Valentin’s name.
Instead, it’s an unknown number.
Normally, I’d let it go to voicemail. It’s almost always spam anyway. But for whatever reason, I lift the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, cousin.”
His voice jolts me. I sit up straighter, my mouth hanging open in shock. “Arsen?”
“I’m guessing you didn’t expect to hear from me.”
“How did you get this number?”
“It wasn’t easy, but I have connections.” There’s a short pause, and it sounds like he’s speaking somewhere with an echo. “You know, I tried to warn him.”