Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ANTON
It’s been hours since I left her place, day bleeding into night, and I still can’t get her expression out of my head. When I told her about the dogs, she felt sorry for me. And when she ran into the bathroom and cried…
Fuck, I didn’t like it.
I don’t want her crying for anyone, especially not me. I’m not her blyatski little tragedy, some broken thing she thinks she can love hard enough to make better. I’m not her project. I don’t need fixing.
I shouldn’t have even told her anything, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. Now I realize to someone like her, it was.
The room feels colder tonight. Too quiet. Or maybe it’s always been this way and I’m only noticing because she isn’t here anymore.
AGE TEN
The basement smells like mildew as my father drags me to the room I’ve been in more often than I would like. My bare feet slip slightly on the tiles while I force myself to stay strong.
It’s not that I’m afraid. I’m not. I just don’t like it. I don’t like it when he makes me do this.
“You know what you have to do, right?” Papa peers down at me as we reach the door.
I nod once. Of course I do. I always follow his rules. I’m a good boy.
Konstantin is already waiting downstairs, standing near the wall with his fists clenched at his sides. He’s sixteen, much taller than me, and nearly as big as our father, but the expression on his face makes him seem older. Angrier too.
“You can’t do this to him again.”
Papa laughs, then grabs him by the collar and slams him against the concrete wall, so hard he bleeds. “You dare tell me what I can and cannot do with my own son?”
His fist crashes into Konstantin’s mouth. More blood drips, spilling down Konstantin’s chin, but Konstantin only wipes it away before he starts laughing too.
“What’s so funny, you little svolich?”
Konstantin leans closer until their foreheads nearly touch. “You dare call yourself a papa? It’s almost funny.”
The next punch connects with his stomach, making him fold in half. Then another. And another. Still, he refuses to make a sound.
Our father turns back to me. “Poydem.” He jerks his head toward the room. “You show all your brothers who the real man is between you.”
My insides tremble, but I hide it before he can see.
When the metal door screeches open, my heart beats faster. I try not to show him how afraid I suddenly am, how much I don’t want to do this again.
I hate it. I wish he cared that I did.
On the other side, a dog waits for me. He’s huge, and his black fur is matted around his neck. And…gross, there’s foam dripping from his mouth while chains rattle against the floor under his paws. He growls at me, and I try to act brave. It’s what Papa wants me to be.
My father tosses the knife across the floor, and it skids between me and the dog.
It’s my only way out.
The second the chain releases, the dog lunges, and Papa shuts the door, staring through the glass. I throw myself toward the knife while claws scrape across the floor behind me.
Pain explodes in my shoulder when his teeth sink into my flesh, and I try not to scream. I grab the handle and twist hard, slamming the blade upward the way Papa taught me to.
The dog snarls louder. Blood sprays across my hands, but he keeps coming anyway. His weight crushes me against the floor while his jaws snap inches from my face, spit hitting my skin as I shove the knife in again. And again. And again.
Just die already! Die!
The rest flashes in a blur. He bites my other arm while I stab him over and over until…
Silence. The dog collapses on top of me, twitching while blood pools around me. My entire body burns while I struggle to breathe, but I’m alive.
Papa opens the door and crouches beside me, gripping my jaw hard enough to hurt as he forces me to meet his eyes.
“You see?” His smile looks monstrous under the flickering basement light. “This is how men are made.”
I stare up at the ceiling as he rises, knife still clutched in my grasp while blood trickles down my wrist.
One week. That’s how long I have before he makes me do it again.
As I lie there staring at the cracks in the paint overhead, the dead dog’s blood soaking into my skin, all I can think about is how badly I wish I didn’t have to kill them anymore.