Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
When I am dressed, he puts me back to bed like a child. The disappointed expression on his face irks me. He has no right to be disappointed in me.
He calls out for Magda, and she appears in the doorway as though she were waiting just outside. He speaks to her in more Russian. Words I don’t understand, but get the gist of anyway.
She’s not to let me out of her sight.
12
Alexei
I tip the bottle of cognac towards my glass, but nothing comes out. Through unfocused eyes, there’s a vague understanding in my mind that I drank it all.
Both of their files are laid out on my desk. Like a puzzle I cannot figure out. I’ve studied each of them closely, and the only conclusion I have reached is that I need more cognac. Part of my brain tells me this is the process. That it will be worse before it gets better. The other part, the logical one, tells me that I have failed already.
A shadow falls over my door, blocking out the light from the hall. When I look up, Magda is standing in front of my desk.
“Alyoshka.”
There is pain in her eyes. For me. From anyone else, I would not tolerate it. But Magda knows me better than anyone else. She reaches for the empty bottle on my desk and shakes her head in disappointment. And then her eyes move to the files, side by side.
She takes a seat across the desk and appraises me. “They are not computer data,” she says. “You cannot analyze these files and find an answer.”
“I already have the answer,” is my drunken reply.
She looks at me with disgust and maternal outrage. “The answer is not you.”
The photos from my past tell me otherwise. My gaze moves to the drawing inside the first folder. In my childlike brain, I believed that some pencils and paper could make up for the damage I had caused. The scratchy lines compose a house, in a field of purple flowers. Her favorite color. I told her I would buy her that house someday. And she rejected my gift. My last gift to her.
Magda reaches over and closes the file, obscuring my past behind thick brown paper.
“They are not the same,” she tells me.
When I look at the woman across from me, with the kind eyes, I wonder how I have not failed her too. She took me in. She cared for me in my darkest hour. And still, here she is. The only person in my life I have not tainted.
“You need to keep her alive,” I order.
This only angers her further.
“You know better than anyone that you simply cannot force someone to have the will to live. Especially not after what she has been through.”
Her words frustrate me too. If anyone can save her, I know Magda can.
“I worry about you,” Magda tells me. “This girl is bringing your past back. You believe you can save her with material things. But this is not the way.”
“Then what is the way?” I ask.
Magda sighs and stands up. “She needs the one thing that nobody else in her life has ever given to her. The one thing that even you are not willing to give.”
There’s a pause where a deep sadness flickers through her eyes. “She needs love, Alyoshka.”
13
Talia
Alexei is avoiding me.
My cuts are healing, and every time I touch the stitches, I think of him. About the look that passed between him and Magda that day. About the secrets he is keeping.
These thoughts help me not to focus on myself.
True to Magda’s word, she brings me food any time I’m hungry. But it’s always the same things. Fish or chicken. Berries and nuts and greens.
I waste some time painting since Alexei obviously intended for this to be some type of therapy. I paint every canvas blood red. When Magda sees them, she frowns. There is disappointment in her eyes, and it irritates me.
“I need more red paint,” I tell her.
“Why don’t you go explore the house,” she suggests. “I could give you a tour if you like.”
I fidget with the paintbrush in my hands to avoid her hopeful expression.
“I might go later.”
She nods and then does something unexpected. She pats me on the shoulder and gives me a little squeeze.
“You remind me so much of him at times,” she says. “When he first came to live with me.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Alyoshka,” she answers. “Alexei. You two are more alike than either of you realize.”
There is warmth in her eyes when she says it. And pain too.
I look away, and she leaves the room.
After lunch, I do as Magda suggested and explore the rest of the house.
There are three levels, and I suspect a basement as well. After exploring the first, I discover something new. A gym. The only piece of equipment inside is a solitary punching bag hanging from the ceiling. It isn’t the bag, but the man punching it that captures my attention.