3. Katya
CHAPTER 3
KATYA
Each morning, I search my phone for spots in the local homeless shelters, and while there are none, I put myself on every waitlist. There have to be benefits for someone like me, right? A way out of this, some help? The answer from the social security department is that they’ll require a lot from me before we get to the point of actually helping. I’ll be on the street long before that, and it’s cold.
I’m rationing the pills Natalia picked up for me as best I can. The pain is hard to take, but I know I won’t be able to afford more anytime soon. Those noodles never came back with Natalia, and I suspect she paid some of her own money for my medicine and just didn’t mention it out of her kindness.
I’m alone most of the day, but when they come home, I’m in the way of them relaxing in their living room. It could not be more awkward. Maybe I’m less high, but the past three days spent with Natalia and Scott were worse than the hospital.
I’ve eaten once a day since I got here. Natalia has offered me more, but I can’t take any more advantage of her than I already am. Plus, with all the shit going on with me, I’m not that hungry anyway. Each time I eat, Scott stares daggers at me.
I don’t move much, which also seems to disgust him. Even hobbling on my crutches to get to the bathroom feels like too much unless I’m about to fully piss my pants. In fairness, I should be in the wheelchair still, but it’s too tight in here to navigate. The crutches are only to help me in and out of it, so I’m constantly pushing my body too far.
Scott’s words hang heavy on me, but the truth is, I have nowhere to go.
I send a text to the ballerina group chat to see if anyone is looking for a roommate, but not a soul answers. Do they really not need anyone, or do they all just know I’m deadweight?
Natalia has been hovering, trying her best to be helpful but irritating me to no end. She’s a young woman in her twenties who wants to gossip and be happy. I want to rot in the ground beside the man I love. I’m not sure her best friend even exists anymore.
The guilt I feel for how short my patience is with her is becoming a constant pain besides my yearning for Pietro. She said I could stay for a few weeks, but I don’t think that will work for any of us. I’m relieved when the fourth morning arrives because she’s returning to work at the dance company today.
Scott has said nothing since our little bonding moment, but I can tell by how he watches me that he hasn’t warmed to the idea of me being here anymore since I first arrived. Natalia never mentioned money when she said I could stay with them, but I feel the undercurrent of resentment building in every small thing I use and can’t replace.
I don’t blame them. I just wish I was anywhere else, wish I wasn’t a burden.
“Do you think you want to try to get up?” Natalia asks before she leaves. I’ve only left the cot for the bathroom, and I admit, I stink.
“I’m not sure.”
“I could run the shower for you. It would feel good. Aren’t you going to have some meetings downtown?” She’s talking about the assistance I’ve applied for. I don’t have the heart to tell her those appointments aren’t for weeks yet.
She reaches out a hand to help me to the shower, and while it sounds miserable and like the last thing I want to do, at least she’s offering to help me. If I go along with it, I’ll be alone for the day and clean. They put me in the boots instead of casts expressly so I could care for my wounds. I haven’t touched them since I left the hospital, and they are feeling strangely tight and hot.
“Yeah, please. It will be a little complicated once these are off, though.” I gesture toward the walking casts.
She pulls me up and supports my weight as she hands me my crutches, and we head to the bathroom. I don’t tell her how hard moving around like this is on me.
A half hour later, I’m damp, both from the water and the sweat of my exertion. The towel she wrapped around me clings as she helps me sit on the edge of the bed. My legs should have been drier before we wrapped them, but I needed her help, and she didn’t have more time to waste with me before she’s off to start her day.
I take my time maneuvering to dry and get dressed, but I prefer to struggle. After the humiliation of the past hour, I would rather wrestle alone for hours than accept any more goddamn help. I would kill for somewhere to hide and lick my wounds in peace. Isn’t that the least nature is supposed to offer a wounded animal?
I’m wearing a bra and shirt but not my bottoms when the door opens unexpectedly. I was under the impression the apartment would be empty for the morning. Scott steps inside with his jacket over his shoulder and a combustible expression. His dark curls are more wild than normal, as is the expression in his dark eyes. I wonder if the reason he’s home and the reason he’s angry have anything to do with each other.
It takes him a full ten seconds to look my way, but it’s not enough, and I’m still struggling to cover myself when his eyes lock on me. His nostrils flare as I struggle to cover my lower half, but the boots are heavy, and my legs won’t easily snap together. I manage to throw a blanket over myself, but I’m sure he saw my spread legs.
His nostrils flare, that anger kicking up a notch.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he slurs slightly, and disgust drips from his tone. My cheeks flame, turning a bright and blotchy red.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be back yet.”
I can’t look at him. I’m so ashamed, already invading his space, in his home where I’m not welcome, and now I’m flashing him. Reaching under the blanket, I struggle to get a pair of underwear on over the boots, but I don’t make any progress.
“Can you please give me one minute? I’ll get dressed and out of your way,” I beg, but he doesn’t respond.
His heavy steps echo across the floor, and I assume he’s headed to the bedroom, pissed as hell but giving me the space I asked for.
Instead of a moment of privacy, a hand tightens around my throat, constricting my air and stopping all my rational thoughts in their tracks. I didn’t even realize he was walking toward me. Fear like I didn’t know I was still capable of chews my stomach open, and I struggle to speak as he pushes my face up, forcing me to look him in the eyes.
The pretty brown color is a good cover for evil, but he’s fuming mad, and the scent of alcohol wafts from his pores. His work uniform is ripped open at the top, buttons popped off and tie missing. This is a strangely disheveled look for the time of day.
“Stop,” I mouth, unable to breathe.
“You’re a disrespectful little bitch.” Flecks of his spit hit my face as he rages.
He’s built up to this since he helped me up the stairs, perhaps before, and I only realize now just how much animosity that really is. I should have left the first night and never agreed to come at all with the warning Natalia gave. “Sleeping in my home, eating my food, taking up space I could use, and you don’t do a goddamn thing. Do you even cry, bitch?”
He shakes me like he wants me to answer, but I can’t. He’s right. I ran out of tears. I haven’t even screamed for Pietro in the middle of the night since I’ve been here. The need for air burns in every part of me, and I start to move past the shock and to the realization I might die.
“If you won’t be useful on your own, I’m going to make use of you.”
He shakes me so hard my teeth rattle, and for a moment, his words don’t make any sense at all. They’re in complete contrast with the thought that he’s about to kill me. I’m not sure what purpose I could serve. My ankles are broken. I can do a few things, but—he unzips his trousers.
Oh, no, no, no— I scream internally, but nothing comes out with his hand still tight around my throat. He’s already hard, I realize in horror, as he pulls himself out and prepares to “make use of me.”
I can’t fight him. I don’t have any hopes of running, and I’m not sure who might help me if I scream. I’m about to be forced into this, and there’s nothing I can do.
The front door opens one more time, and my panicked gaze snaps to Natalia, begging her for help. Natalia witnesses the entire scene, blue eyes flying wide as she launches into the room and slams the door shut behind her.
“What the hell, Scott? Let go of her!” she shouts as she stomps across the room toward us. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Are you drunk? Again?” She smacks her hands against his chest, and by the grace of God, he lets me go, and I draw in precious breath. My hands circle my throat protectively, and lights pop in my vision as they begin screaming at one another.
Again? This isn’t the first time she’s caught him assaulting someone, or is she used to him being shit-faced when he should be at work?
“What the hell are you doing home anyway?” she insists.
“I could ask you the same thing!”
“Kevin called from the bar again, but I know your schedule for the week!”
“Kevin’s a fucking snitch. Did he call my mom too?” His tone says she’s ridiculous, and this situation inconveniences him. That hand around my throat was nothing; drinking that much in the middle of the day is nothing.
“Did you get fired again ?!” she screams, and her disappointment and pain are palpable. How badly it hurts to hope someone is better than they are and be disappointed again and again.
The argument escalates, and the sounds of their shouts barely register. How far was he willing to go? My hand runs up and down the column of my throat. As I try to think through the fog, I think he might have killed a few of my brain cells because I feel too slow.
All I know is I’m not safe, and I’m not sure I ever will be again.
There’s nothing but the noise. I can’t begin to make sense of what they’re saying. I’m just glad that no one is yelling at me at the moment. They leave the room, and I dress as quickly as possible, throwing the few things I own together into the four small boxes under the cot. Most of it was never unpacked anyway. I have no clue how the hell to get out of here, how to carry it away, but I know I’m going to have to. There’s no way I can stay.
A while later, after more screaming and smashing, Natalia comes out. Tears stream down her cheeks, and she looks about as defeated as I feel.
“You have to leave,” she says, eyes moving over my things with a flash of relief.
“We can leave together.”
She bites her lip and swallows. “No, Katya, we can’t. His family owns this apartment, and I can’t afford a place on my own, and you…” She doesn’t say it, but her gaze touches my legs. “I’m not leaving.”
“He’s…” I struggle for the right words. “He’s dangerous, Natalia. He could hurt you.”
“He’s never been that way with me.” There’s a distant look in her eyes like she’s remembering something similar but has determined it isn’t as bad. “I’ve seen him be too rough, but I didn’t think he’d do that to you. I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I’d known.” She hesitates as she looks me over. “This is my fault for thinking this could work.”
“You didn’t see what was happening. He-he-that’s not your fault.” Maybe she thinks I started this, but I don’t care what she thinks of me. I want her to be safe. “Please, Natalia, you’re my best friend.”
She puts up her hands to stop my attempts.
“Listen, I saw exactly what happened earlier, and he even admitted it wasn’t your fault, but I can’t leave. I love him.”
“You love him?”
“He loves me too. Even if it doesn’t look like that at the moment, I know he does.”
“You can’t believe that.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Actually, I do, and even if I didn’t, I have nowhere to go. I don’t have any more options than you do. I’m really sorry this didn’t work out.” She looks at the floor. “I’m really sorry he hurt you.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” I ask as the tears Scott claimed were missing make their appearance. I already knew I had to leave, so I’m not expecting an answer.
Tears fill her eyes too. “I don’t know, Katya, but you can’t stay here.”