When I looked at her, I saw my mother. I could replay every memory of my mother going down the same path, of my father begging her to fight – to not give up. It was a fucked-up sense of déjà vu if you ask me.
That’s probably why I got so close to her, because I somehow knew everything that she was going through. Before my mom lost her battle, I became her biggest confidant, finding out everything she was thinking and feeling when my father made her do the things he did.
Veronica was in the exact same position as my mother.
All it took was one night.
One night where I came into the club a little too tired and rolled into bed, a night where I vaguely remember Veronica coming into my room complaining about being freezing cold. I didn’t argue with her, I let her slip into bed next to me, her personal radiator – that’s what she used to call me.
Chuckles wasn’t a bad man, he was just a selfish one.
There was a point in her sickness where he would disappear. I think that he couldn’t handle seeing her deteriorate in front of him every single day. It started to become too much for him, so, I was there.
She slipped into bed next to me and told me about her day, how she made one of the sweet butt’s go downtown and get her a thin slice of cheese – her favorite pizza. Then I heard about how her brother got angry at her and all about their stupid fight. I can remember every detail, how she smelt of fresh cotton and lavender.
The thing I can remember the most is when she apologized to me.
I didn’t understand what was going on, not until I heard the bullet leave the chamber and felt the blood.
She had shot herself, in bed, right next to me – with my gun.
I had left it on the bedside table, not thinking that she would have grabbed it.
So, Chuckles is absolutely correct.
I killed Veronica.
I am a fucking murderer.
What Bellamy doesn’t realize is that this isn’t a phase. Chuckles carving up my face reminded me of what I did. What I was guilty of.
I wear the scars of my betrayal every fucking day.
He achieved his ultimate goal, giving everyone a reason to call me Slasher.
I look down at my phone, knowing that I should probably call her back. She’s fucking worried and I have no doubt about it. I just can’t. I’m not ready to talk to her, to anyone really. Once I am, I’ll go back to the club. I just can’t do that yet. Who the fuck knows, I wonder if I’ll ever be ready.
For now, all I can do is send her a text.
To: Baby Bells
Alive. Kickin’ & drinkin’. Be back soon.
A minute doesn’t even pass before I have a response back from her.
From: Baby Bells
Yeah, didn’t you say that six months ago? I’ll believe it when I see it. Just…be careful. Don’t be a stranger. I kind of miss you, bad humor and all. Xoxo
She still has the ability to make me smile from just a few simple words. I owe a lot to that girl; she kicked my ass when I needed it and kissed it when I needed it more. She may be Elena’s biological sister, but fuck, I’ve adopted that bitch.
I told her I’d be home soon, and I won’t disappoint her. Not after everything she did for me.
Skulls, I hope you’re ready. Slash is back, and better than ever.
Chapter 3
The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.
-Anonymous
Katya
“Zhena!” I hear Sergei’s rumbling voice as he calls me his wife in our native tongue and comes stomping into our apartment. It echoes through the foyer into the living room where I stay seated reading an Architectural Design magazine. Even when he enters the room, I still don’t look at him. Instead, I’m looking out onto Central Park. One of the few things I loved about living in the city is that when it gets dark, you see everything light up. In my own way, I think that is beautiful.
“Do you not listen to me?” he snaps, storming towards me on the chair. He yanks my arm forcefully and pulls me up against him. I stare into his clad eyes, attempting to figure out what it is this time. I wonder if he wants me to clean up a mess, he has before. It could be as simple as that, but with Sergei, I never truly know what to expect.
“Pfft. I always listen, you talk too loudly. How can I not hear you?” I grumble back, tugging my arm out of his grasp. Sergei is a forceful man. There is absolutely no easing into anything with him. Egor threw me into his grasps, and I’ve stayed here for years.
“We must talk. Things are changing.”
“Things are ever changing. There will always be change, this is what you tell me.”
“Da. You are right,” he mutters, and he slowly brings up his hand to my cheek, brushing it lightly against my skin. “There will be much change for us very soon. We must talk about these changes.”
I agreed. There was something I needed to tell him. A change – but a very good one. A change that we have both wanted for a long time. “Da. Da. I have something I must tell you.” I smile as I finish speaking, for I am too excited for words.
Sergei and I have tried to expand our family for years, since I was in my early twenties, but nothing worked. There was a time that I had thought he would discard me because I could not give him the children that he wanted. He already had a daughter, Natasha, from a previous relationship. But I knew how badly he wanted a son, and I wanted him just as bad as Sergei did. In the back of my mind I always knew that my family would never be normal. Normal is something that we would never be, even if we dared to try. Year after year Sergei kept me beside him. I think that we both have loved each other for a long time. I wasn’t just slave to him. I became much more than that.
“Well, will you be quiet like a mouse or speak?’
“Da. Papa. I will speak.” I smile, removing his hand from my cheek and bringing it to my belly. It feels different now, a little firmer than it has before. Weeks had gone by, and I had felt a change, only, I didn’t know that it was this – life growing inside of me.
“You are pregnant?” he asks, and I nod.
He is silent, until a few minutes pass us both by and he speaks again.
“Now… after all this time you are pregnant?” His tone is accusatory, he spits it out like he has tasted venom. Something isn’t right. Something does not feel right…
“Yes…Why are you speaking to me like this? Are you not happy? Isn’t this what you want…what you have always told me you wanted.”
“Who have you fucked?” He fires it out. “It is impossible that you are pregnant after so long. Impossible.”
“You need to think about who it is you speak to at this moment,” I hiss, taking a step back away from him. His hand shoots out and he grabs my forearm, squeezing hard.
“No, girl. You forget who it is you speak to.” I glance down to my arm where his hand is squeezing, the skin turns a bright red around where his hand is, and I feel the pain. I wonder what I’ve done that makes him so angry. After years with my husband, I know him very well. He is furious, and he is holding back his anger. For what reason I do not know, but I do know I will find out very soon.
“I thought you would be happy. Instead I see the fire inside of you.” I utter these words as I look back up to him, the anger in his eyes is evident, and for the first time since I had met him that day, I am afraid. I know what he is capable of. I only do not know what it is he will do.
“Go into my office and open the drawer in the desk.” He lets go of my arm quickly, and I walk through our apartment into his office. On my trip, I pass by the most exquisite art pieces, beautiful ones that I had chosen, ones that I had felt would make this house a home. It was hard to remind myself that it wasn’t the things in a house that made it a home, it was the people, and if we couldn’t do that – nothing could.
I hear his footsteps close behind me as I venture further until I reach his office doors. The doors are wide open, so I walk through them, going in until I reach his desk. I
sit in the leather chair that serves as his throne and open the drawer to his desk. It is then that I see a manila envelope labeled for me, it reads “zhena”, wife.
“What is this?”
“Open it, and you will find out.”
The tension in the room grows as quickly as my heart is beating within my chest. I open the envelope, pulling out the stack of papers. Suddenly, I can’t believe my eyes. There is no way that I am seeing what is before me.
This cannot be real.
No. It has to be real. Sergei is not one who plays games or makes jokes. I am simply staring at my future. I read through the packet, page after page. Disbelief takes over my body, and slowly the shock sets in.
“You want this? You really wish to be rid of me?” I stare at him, tears threatening to come from my eyes. He is unaffected, stoic face, firm lines drawn. He looks exactly how he is when he is about to discuss business. Lethal.
He is looking at me as if I am a mere transaction to him.
“I will say you know this is the best option for you. You will be provided for the rest of your days. The only thing that will change for you is that I will not be by your side. You will be free, Katya. Isn’t that what you have wished for since you were but a little girl? To be free?” He throws my words back at me, my confessions in confidence of how I wished my mother had never made the choices that she did. How I always felt trapped, living in this world as a prisoner.
“Who is she?” I ask, knowing all too well the man before me. He would never cast me aside unless he had a better option, so I wish to know who she is. Who is the woman who will help him climb to the top?
“Caprice.” Instantly I know of the girl he is after. He chose well, and I will give him that. The eldest DiGiovanni daughter, the one who will give him heavy ties with the Italians. She is his ticket in, and I see how this was a good business decision. The only thing is, we both know he and I are more than business. It was not in business that he purchased me. I was for pleasure, all of which I have given him throughout our entire relationship.
I am brought back to the fear that sits heavy in my heart. I don’t want to ask the question, but I will. “What about our child? You speak of my life in these papers, but not of this… What will you do?” I slide my hand around my stomach, it must be an instinctive thing. I know that there is no protecting my child from his father. Sergei will get whatever he wants, and always has.
“What will you do?” I ask again, and with every moment that passes by between us I know I should be afraid.
I should be very afraid.
“I will do what needs to be done.”
Chapter 4
We seem to hold onto the memories that hurt us the most. -Anonymous
Katya
I will do what needs to be done.
His words replay in my mind over and over again until suddenly, everything goes blank. I don’t remember the man slipping the needle into my neck, or even if he had walked into the study. I was simply so shocked by what my husband had said, knowing very well what it meant.
Waking up in a room, strapped down to a table, bare to the entire world told me that I was drugged. He had taken me somewhere and I remember nothing. I shouldn’t be shocked, I am and yet I know that I should not.
I know what my husband is.
I know how he is the darkest, most despicable creature on this planet.
I know everything about him, and I still love him.
Now, I lay, my back on cold metal, every limb of my body strapped down. No matter how hard I try to move, I cannot. The thick plastic binds dig deep into my skin. He wanted to make sure that I couldn’t move. Then, it hits me, he wanted to make sure that I felt this. Sergei has done this to others, strapped them down and hurt them. I only wonder what it is that he will do to me… and that is the moment where awful thoughts plague my mind.
“Mistress.” I hear the doctor’s voice before I see him, he walks from around a curtain and smiles deeply at me. “I heard you struggling, which tells me you are awake and ready for the show!”
I hate this man, have always hated him and always will. There is darkness, and I am used to seeing such things, but what this is… it is not darkness. It is insanity.
“Sergei has told me about your little… problem, and do not worry, we shall fix it very quickly!”
My nose tickles, tears welling behind my eyes. This man does not have to tell me what he is about to do. I know exactly what it is Sergei told him. “Where is my husband?” I demand to know.
“Oh, you know. Off tending to business. He leaves you in my safe and capable hands. We will be finished in a jiffy. Do not fret, my dear, I will take care of you.”
“Let me out of these!” I hiss, shaking my hands and legs against the binds.
“Oh no. I cannot do that until we are finished. If I do, well… you know what will happen to me.” He laughs. I watch as I hear the clinking of tools hitting another, and the next thing I realize is that he has a scalpel. He brings the blade close to my skin, on the side of my breast where I was branded the day I was sold, pressing it firm against me until he gets a little bit of blood. “Oh! I almost forgot. Better disinfect you. I really wouldn’t want you to get an infection and die.”
That is exactly what he wants. This man loves the fact that my husband gave him this job. I lay here and try not to let it affect me. I try to not cry, but it is so hard… all I want to do is cry, but I will not allow myself to do that.
I will not give him the satisfaction.
The hint of alcohol hits my nose before its pressed against me, he takes the scalpel, slicing through my skin, removing my brand slowly, being as painful as he possibly can. I bite my lip and close my eyes, knowing the pain will end soon. I only have to make it to that moment, to the moment when everything stops.
He stops slicing, and I can still feel it on me, by just a thread. I look to him as he smiles to me. “Sergei told me to be kind to you, but I think he knows I will do no such thing. I have hated you since the moment he brought you and your sister home, so I will make you suffer.” I am being ripped apart as he grabs onto the sliced skin and yanks, tearing my brand off in addition to my skin. I glance down and see half of the skin on my breast is gone, and the blood goes down to my side where he continued to pull until it lets up.
The room starts to spin, small sparkly things fill my vision as I witness him grab a needle and thread. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he will do next, how he threads the needle and pushes it through my skin as botched as he can.
Minutes pass and pass, when he finishes sewing my breast, he grabs another tool, one that I do not know. It is then that I see him grab something else, a powered screw driver. He attaches a long screw at the tip of the tool, coming closer and closer towards me. I jolt, terrified of what he will do. “Stop now!” I tell him.
He laughs, as if Sergei has given him the best job. I think he has waited his entire career to hurt me.
He puts the screw right next to my hip bone, bringing it a little higher and to the left. That is when I hear the battery, the sound hits me before the agonizing pain does as he directs it inside me inch by inch. I am being ripped apart, pain like I have never experienced takes over my body, and I only want one thing.
I want to die.
Sergei would never allow this of me, he would never grant me the wish to die, but yet he places me in the hands of a psychopath… for what exactly?
The sparkly dots float over my vision, and I see nothing but them. I blink again and again, the room becoming darker with each moment. I do not want to experience this pain, but I know if I fall asleep I will be sentencing my child to death. Therefore, I cannot sleep. I cannot allow my body to sleep, not now. No. I still have to fight.
The pain is excruciating as the screw is removed and then placed in the same position on the other side, in it goes, just as bad as the first time, if not worse. I clench my teeth, refusing to scream, to cry. I will not let this man see me as weak, and nor w
ill I allow Sergei to.
“Still awake, are we? Let me fix that so I can have my fun,” he snickers, leaving the screw inside me. I can feel the weight against my stomach. He disappears for a moment and comes back with a needle, sticking it into my neck and injecting whatever is in the syringe into my body.
No matter how much I try, I can’t fight.
The darkness consumes me.
Chapter 5
You don’t need a weapon at all. You were born one. -Anonymous
Katya
The smell of eucalyptus and lilies hit my nose, that is the first thing that I remember when I come to. The scent takes over me, trapping me in some sort of safe security bubble. Both eucalyptus and lilies are my favorite, easing me like nothing else on this earth ever has. The scent hits me before the pain, the nausea follows closely behind, and suddenly all I want to do is die.
Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking a few times and take in my surroundings. I move my arms to the right and the left, feeling the silk sheets against me – ones that I know so very well.
I’m home.
Home is such a funny word. Some people have one home, and others have many. Maybe I am one who has many, or maybe I am one who has none. If I think about it long enough, I don’t think I’d be able to come up with an answer.
As my vision clears, I glance around my bedroom, in awe of how everything somehow remains the same. My perfume is sitting perfectly untouched on my dresser, Sergei’s belt laying against the back of the mirror. Everything is normal, as it is every day.
I hear a loud cough and jump in my position on the bed which causes me to lurch forward, the pain crippling my body as I do so. I breathe in heavy and quick afterwards, trying to coax myself through the pain I feel.
“You look awful.” His voice shocks me, surprising me more than anything that he’s even in the same room as I am.
My eyes quickly dart to where he is, sitting in his armchair in the corner of the darkened room. If he hadn’t coughed I would have no idea that he was here with me. I hear the arms of the chair squeak as he rises, the sound becoming so familiar after hearing it for so long.