In the house, Timur greets us. His gray-blue eyes pierce through me and Vlad, while his face remains calm and composed. I notice him nodding to the Saint, asking about me. I can't see what’s behind him responding, but I feel his hot palm on my back.
We head deeper into the house. Mom and my little brother are sitting on the sofa in the living room, but the Saint doesn’t let me approach them, immediately nudging me towards the bedroom. I try to stop, despite my body shaking and my head in chaos. But the man nearly pushes me into the room and locks the door, cutting us off from Mom and the two Timurs.
— Lie down.
I turn sharply to him. My vision darkens, my body feels weak, but I stand firmly on my feet.
— I’m repeating it, — I throw back harshly. Anger swells within me, aimed at everyone at once, but primarily at my father. — I’m tired of orders.
I am surprised by my own strength. I feel like a broken toy in the hands of strangers who don’t care about my fate. Don't care about feelings. My father has hated just because, without reasons, all his life. It turns out he thought about the orphanage... although it’s unclear from what age. Vlad, on the other hand, is simply playing his damned game. Playing with my life, the safety of Mom and my brother. Playing because he has a goal, skillfully using my desires for his own benefit. He truly doesn’t care how many knives he stabs in the back, how many damned blades will be sticking out until he achieves his ultimate goal! He doesn’t care if my head will fly into the abyss. Vlad couldn’t care less about what will happen next when he leaves. And he will leave, I'm sure of it. Not long now. The business practically belongs to him; the Wild will have to play by his rules or they’ll come up with something else and take the remaining shares for themselves. Timur, meanwhile, has been left without any at all. Apparently, according to Vladimir, there is something he manipulated, wanting the Good to give the shares to me. It’s a girl. Important to both of them. That’s what upset him. A deception that outplayed Wild himself.
“And this after he agreed not to touch their girl.”
He thought he had got rid of me while simultaneously taking everything for himself. It turns out he was left with nothing!
It's unlikely this girl is the shared mistress of the brothers or something similar. Most likely, it has to do with Milana; she is the only girl who unites them in such a way. But what relation does the Wild have with her, that’s the question! Why did she stand between them all? However, it is clear that if Milana is the starting point in matters of revenge, then it’s understandable why the brothers want to take everything from Wild and punish him in every possible way. My strength comes from Mom and my brother, while theirs comes from a sister!
— It’s wonderful that you finally understood that it's enough being a softie and obediently doing everything you're told, — the Saint begins softly, but with each word his tone becomes lower, rougher, more demanding. — But you will lie in bed, whether you like it or not.
I want to respond. To shout that I figured everything out, to say that I don’t want me or my family to suffer from their schemes and revenge for Milana, but I have no words. Weakness surges like a hot wave through my body, so I sit on the bed, just as he wants.
— Good, — he rasps.
Perhaps he can't stand it, or I've annoyed him. In an instant, he is next to me, scooping me up in his arms and placing me in the middle of the bed, starting to remove my clothes.
— What are you doing?... — I try to express my outrage.
— Clothes are stained with blood and vomit. Are you sure you want to lie in this?
“I don’t want to.” — I scream silently at him.
— I thought so, — he firmly cuts off, having read the answer in my eyes.
He undresses me and covers me with a blanket. He sits beside me, tilting his head to the side and watching intently.
— Is it disgusting to you? — he asks hoarsely.
Darkness flares in the blue oceans of his eyes, which, I think, I will never know. I know it appears during passion, anger, or irritation. I know that every time its degree is always different. I just haven’t learned to see which kind of darkness intertwines with the incredible blue.
— You are my wife.
— Does that change anything? — I respond somewhat hysterically.
But Vlad doesn’t answer. He leans towards me, kisses the tip of my nose, murmuring that he will call a doctor and will be back in a minute. I don’t even have time to stop him before he leaves the bedroom and locks the door behind him. I am left alone.
A heaviness weighs on my soul and heart, tightening my insides, twisting them into a knot that will never untangle. I hurt. Every part of me weeps bitterly and desperately from various types of pain. I knew that pain could come in millions of shades. But I didn’t know it was possible to feel them all at once.
It feels as if my bones are breaking. Slowly, deliberately loudly, so I can hear every crack.
I hurt because of Wild and his actions. He hit me, though he hadn’t done that in a long time. Perhaps this situation was truly critical since he couldn’t control himself.
I hurt because of Vlad. Time will pass, and regardless of whether I love him or not, he will leave. Maybe he’ll leave the guards, but he will leave me alone... He will forget all those moments when my heart fluttered, just by those attentive eyes looking into the depths of my soul. He will forget how he taught me to live and draw. He will forget how he manipulated, cutting with words, wounding with touches and actions, while at the same time healing and showing that not everything in this life is that simple.
I hurt for Mom and my brother. What will happen to them next? What will life become? Not just for them, but for me too? Is it worth expecting revenge from Wild? Will there be anyone to protect us?
I don’t notice that I’m falling asleep. It’s as if I’m transported from one reality to another. I dream a dream. That day when I entered the Saint’s workshop and saw the paintings. Although... no. Not paintings. A painting. At that time, I didn't realize who was depicted. I couldn’t even imagine that the brothers with their sister were painted on the canvas. Brothers who protect. Brothers who keep the sky for her so that despair doesn’t fall upon her tender girl’s soul.
I wake up suddenly and unexpectedly. I bolt upright, but the pain in my body immediately asserts itself, forcing me to sober up after sleep. The realization hits my head like something heavy. How did I not immediately see the connection? How did I not notice… although I did notice that the people in the painting looked alike.
I force my body to move. I get out of bed and step into the corridor. To my surprise, I notice that it’s so quiet around, everyone is asleep, and it’s utterly dark outside the window. Did I really sleep that long? When did day pass?
I tiptoe into the bathroom. I stand in front of the mirror and, to my astonishment, notice the bruises on my cheeks. The blood was wiped away by the Saint, so the traces of Wild’s affection are very clearly visible.
A chill runs down my skin. I am in my underwear, barefoot on the cold tiles. Tears well up.
I grab a comb and try to untangle my hair. But no matter how hard I try, nothing works. After Wild pulled on my strands, some of them are completely broken.
I start to get nervous. I tug at all the drawers and find a pair of scissors. Without hesitating long, I grab them and pull my hand back. A few heavy movements and hair falls to the floor, tickling my bare heels. Now a girl with a ragged bob looks back at me from the mirror. There is pain and exhaustion in her eyes, but also a firm confidence that I will not endure any longer. Vladimir Wild must let my mother and me live. Whether he wants to or not.
The door creaks. I spin around sharply at the sound.
— What are you doing, Julianna?