Chapter 12 #2
The great Sergey Marinov. He wasn’t a father. He was nothing more than a tyrant. A cruel bastard who got off on breaking us, knowing we wouldn’t fight back.
When Lev’s mother told me she was pregnant, I didn’t want the baby. I hate myself for even thinking that, but I was scared out of my damn mind. Afraid I’d turn out like him. Afraid that whatever poison lived in his blood might live in mine too.
His death was the best thing that ever happened to us, but by then, it was too late. We were already men.
I shut my eyes and try to sleep, but when it comes, so does the nightmare. The same one every time. My father waiting in the dark, still finding ways to get inside.
The room is pitch black, like I’ve been dropped straight into hell. Not a single trace of light. At first, it’s silent, and then it starts low, almost like it isn’t even there until the sound is hard to miss.
A baby is crying somewhere in the distance. Not a soft whimper, but the raw, piercing kind that bleeds panic and fear. My body reacts before my mind can catch up: feet moving, muscles tightening, instinct taking over.
The crying is somewhere ahead, close enough to chase. I surge forward, arms outstretched like I can reach him, scoop him up, and get him the hell out of here. But the second I pick a direction, the sound swings, slipping away like it’s being dragged by invisible hands.
“Pizdets,” I growl, pushing harder. Damn it.
The darkness thickens as I move through it, hands searching for walls that aren’t there. Just endless space unfolding around me, empty and cold.
The crying stays out of reach, no matter how fast I run. The room shifts every time I get close, stretching the distance on purpose. I run anyway. Breath tearing through me, anger rising fast, feeding the need to move.
There has to be an end to this place. A wall. A door. Something real I can fight through.
The baby cries again, the sound uneven now and full of terror.
“Gde ti?” I shout, voice cracking through the void. Where are you?
No answer. Just a low, cruel laugh sliding through the dark like fog I can’t see.
A chill rips through me. I know that sound. I’ve heard it too many times.
This has to be one of his games. Another twisted brand of torment. It would be just like him to watch me claw and bleed just to prove I’m weak.
My lungs burn. My fists clench. The baby’s wail cuts higher, frantic, while the laughter presses beneath it.
I roar and push forward. But the cries change direction and the laugh moves nearer. If I can get my hands on him, I can make the game stop.
The room stretches again. The laugh stays close and far at the same time, like it’s right in front of me while the baby’s cry keeps pulling away.
Just keep going. You have to save him. You can’t let him die.
The crying is suddenly right in front of me, so close my body heaves with it. I reach out, ready to grab him, but the sound cuts off. Like a switch flipped.
“Net.” The word rips out of me. “Ostav yevo!” No. Leave him!
The silence that replaces it is worse than the crying ever was. But I keep running, refusing to give up.
He can’t be dead. I need to find that baby. I need to save him. I will save him this time.
Except the next thing I register is my father’s voice right behind me, his breath grating up my neck.
“Love makes you weak,” he says. “You have to kill it, or it will kill you.”
The blood drains out of me so fast my hands go numb.
Turning behind me, I try to grab him, to kill him, but he isn’t there.
His laughter hits harder.
“No,” I manage, hating that I’m begging him for anything. But I will for this. “No. Don’t do it. Don’t hurt him. I will do whatever you want.”
“You stupid boy. Getting attached to things I taught you not to. Now you will watch and you will see what happens when you fail.”
I snap, lunging into the dark, swinging at air, at the space where he should be. If I can find him and kill him, I can save the child.
“Pozhaluysta,” I choke. Please. “He is just a baby.”
The darkness moves like it’s alive, the room suddenly tilting. The laugh comes close, then far, and the voice repeats itself like it’s carving into my skull.
Love makes you weak. You have to kill it.
Then he does.
I wake up like I’ve been dragged out of deep water, lungs hauling in air that tastes wrong, heart slamming so roughly it hurts.
Sweat clings to my skin while my eyes scan the room in a fury, searching for something solid to hold on to.
I have to convince my body that I’m in my own bed and not trapped in that black room, knowing I can’t save the baby no matter how many times the nightmare comes.
And it comes more often than I’d like, the outcome remaining the same: I fail.
When I shut my eyes, I see him as though he’s right here in my arms. He was so little. Helpless. And it was my job to protect him.
Or at the least I thought it was.
The quiet in the room makes my thoughts spiral even more, so I swing my legs out of bed and head for the hallway, knowing I won’t sleep until I’ve checked on Lev.
I know my father can’t touch him, not anymore, but that doesn’t stop the fear. I ease the door open, eyes locking on the bed and the blanket pulled up high.
For one second, I can’t see his face.
My chest drops out. The silence from the dream hits me so hard my vision sharpens, and I cross the room in two steps, already lifting the blanket like I’m peeling back the edge of a nightmare. His eyes are closed, his face slack with sleep.
But it still isn’t enough. I need proof that he’s alive. Two fingers find the side of his neck, waiting for that steady beat.
Then I feel it: a pulse.
My exhale leaves me in a long rush.
I sit on the edge of the bed at first, watching him sleep until I slide in beside him, slow enough not to disturb him, my arm settling around him with gentle pressure.
His body moves, turning into the warmth that hits me in the chest.
My hand rests against his side, feeling the rise and fall, and I stare into the dim light while the dream keeps replaying. The baby crying, the distance stretching, the laugh that still suffocates me.
Love makes you weak. You have to kill it.
But my father was wrong. It doesn’t make you weak.
My son has given me more strength and purpose than I have ever known, and if anyone dares to take him from me, there’s nothing I won’t do to stop them.