Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I have always been a prisoner, and in that regard, nothing has changed. But the cruelty lies in the small taste of freedom Nikolai granted me before he snatched it away. He thinks he can alter my strength of will by challenging me in this way, but he doesn’t know that I’ve already walked the streets of hell and dealt with devils worse than him.
His attempt to blame what happened on my father or Dante is weak and pathetic. He is a liar and a thief, and there is no honor in his word. I refuse to believe anything other than what’s obvious. As my mother always used to tell me, the simplest answer is usually the correct one.
The room isn’t ideal, but I can still make the situation work. I can continue to practice and work on strengthening my ankle. But now that I’m aware of Nikolai’s intentions, I must stay ahead of them.
I chop up my breakfast to dirty up the plate. It’s a trick I learned long ago, and it’s never failed me yet. When I’m done, I scrape all but a few small remnants into the toilet and flush with a resounding sense of victory. This has always been the one area of my life where I’ve had complete control, and I’m not about to let him change that.
With the ruse complete, I take to the floor for warm-ups before moving on to some makeshift barre exercises in the closet. For the entirety of the day, it’s rinse and repeat. Work and rest. Work and rest. When my body breaks down and can go no further, I take a small amount of nourishment to fill my tank. Sometimes, when I go too far, I purge it all back up with a healthy dose of self-hatred.
It’s a cycle I learned from watching my mother as a child. I once heard her mention that my father thought she was fat, and that was why he didn’t love her. In a drunken slurry of words, she uttered something I could never forget. You have to stay pretty, Tana. You must be pretty and thin, so love won’t evade you too. It scared me to witness her breakdowns, and I decided at a young age that she was probably right. The best ballerinas were thin and pretty, and I wanted to be loved just like them.
Some might say it’s not healthy, but until Nikolai, nobody has ever complained about my eating habits. He has falsely deluded himself into staking a claim over my body. The body I have worked so hard for. He can have my life. My freedom. Even my hours in the day. But he will never have my body.
As a testament to that, I’m prepared to continue my routine as best as I can within the confines of my room. I need to warm the muscles in my body before moving onto static stretches, all of which can be difficult with the brace. A few of my favorite dynamic movements are shoulder rolls and leg swings, now aided by the assistance of the dressing table. But before I can even begin, the lock disengages on the door.
Ice blue is the first thing I see, and subsequently feel when chills crawl over my body. My captor doesn’t need words when his energy is dark like this. It billows into the room like smoke and chokes the life out of everything inside.
Running is not an option, and I am not one to quickly forget difficult lessons learned. My first instinct is to curl into myself. But the wolf at my door doesn’t move. He doesn’t even appear to breathe. His legs are planted wide, his nostrils flared, and his eyes are so flinty I’m desperate for the sanctuary of my bed.
“Zvezda.” His irises track the lines of my body like a true hunter, indexing my weaknesses. “Your father took specific care to inform me that you were a good, obedient girl. He said you had been raised to do as you were told and would not be any trouble.”
I swallow, and the lie comes out with a choked quietness. “I am.”
Nikolai tilts his head to the side, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Do good girls lie, Nakya?”
My heart thrashes against my ribs, and my stomach churns. I don’t know what he knows. He is toying with me, and the unpredictability scares me more than anything. In my own environment, I have come to know what to expect. But this is not my natural element, and I truly don’t know what this man is capable of.
“No.” The word is a whisper. A hope that the simple acknowledgment will make him disappear.
“No,” he agrees. “They do not.”
The space between us looms quietly. Nikolai is not in any hurry to break the silence and the long stretch of time only compounds my nerves.