Chapter 6
6
I can't believe I fucked up as badly as I did. It's all I can think about as I sit Amelia down on the couch and rub my hand in a small circle on her back. She's shutting down, practically unable to speak from the shock. I might see things like this everyday because of my work, but this is new to her.
The last thing I ever wanted was to subject her to something like this. How can she ever forgive me?
“Amelia, talk to me,” I say for the hundredth time, hoping to coax her out of the shock consuming her. I need her to talk to me. Yell at me and tell me I am the biggest monster she's ever met in her life. Maybe if I can explain what happened, she can find a way to forgive me.
Or maybe I'm just delusional.
After a few minutes of her silence, I guide her to the bathroom. She leans against the bathroom sink, staring at a blood stain on the sleeve of her shirt. I can only imagine what's she’s thinking and would do anything to help her come to terms with this.
I kneel on the floor and hold my hand under the water spout of the tub to draw some warm water. Amelia is so lost in her own head that she doesn't understand what's happening. I undress her, and she doesn't do anything to fight me off. She complies wholeheartedly. I wonder what's going through her mind as I do, but the thought makes me sick, so I force it away.
She sits down in the tub with some help from me, and I watch as she curls into a ball. The heat around her seems to bring life back to her eyes, and she looks at me with disgust behind them. I stick my hands in the water and lather some soap on a cloth, running it over her skin, letting the warmth of the water wash away some of the resentment she obviously feels.
“Why did you beat him up?” Amelia asks, her voice cracking as she's on the verge of breaking out in tears. She looks away from me at first, and I have to fight the urge to grab her face and turn it toward me while I answer.
I need her to know that I'm not lying to her anymore. It might be a stupid decision, but I want her to know the truth about me. She's already witnessed me at my worst. If I can explain it to her, maybe she'll understand. Perhaps there's hope for our future.
“I know this is all going to be very hard to take in?—”
“I just want the truth, Alexei,” she interrupts, looking at me with watery eyes. “Please. You owe me that much at least.”
“I know.” I nod my head and stare into her eyes while I dip the washcloth in the water and run it over her back, feeling how soft and silky her skin is beneath my fingers. I wish this could be different. I wish I could be here with her, enjoying a romantic, intimate moment rather than trying to beg for forgiveness. “I'm telling you the truth. I grew up in Russia, and I had nothing at all. I had to fight for every scrap I put in my mouth, every article of clothing that kept me warm in the winter. I would have died if it wasn't for Dimitri. He saved me, but he trained me to be a killer. Now I work for him.”
“And you kill people for him?” Her voice is a few octaves higher, clearly frightened by what I said. I can see the questions on her mind. She thought I was a monster before, but knowing this isn't the first time I've done something like this must paint a different picture for her.
“Yes. I'm a hitman, assassin, whatever you want to call it.” Her eyes are blank as she studies my face, trying to determine whether what I'm saying is true. Something shifts in her eyes, and I realize she thinks it's better than something else she was considering. “Dimitri is a Don in the Russian mob. He's like a father to me, and I do jobs for him.”
“How many people?” She looks away from me again as she waits for the answer, barely able to stomach it.
I pause for a moment and shake my head, washing her more as she curls up in the tub. “I don't have an answer for that. I've lost count.”
She looks back at me, and I see the withdrawn look in her wide eyes. She's shaking now, trembling from the anxiety of being around me. “You've killed so many people you've lost count?”
Horror fills her voice, and a sick feeling sinks in my stomach. “I don't take any pleasure in my job. If it weren't for this, I would be dead.”
“But you kill people,” Amelia reiterates, stressing the fact that I shouldn't have decided to kill other people to protect myself. Though it wasn't only myself I was protecting. Marcus has always been under my care, and most of what I did was for him. If I had a difficult time surviving on the streets, it was astronomically harder for him. But she doesn't need to know about him right now.
“I know you think I'm some kind of monster, but I would never do anything to hurt you.” She stares at me with a blank look in her eyes, not sure if she should believe what I say. I can't blame her for the apprehension. If I were in her shoes, I would feel like I was in danger too. “What happened back there only happened because Oliver—” She winces when I say his name, like giving a name to the person she saw killed made it so much worse. “He was trying to blackmail me because he saw you. People like him are dangerous, and he threatened to harm you. I couldn't let that happen. I was going to leave him there, but then he lunged at you, and I lost control.”
Her eyes soften only slightly, seeing some sense in what I said. She might not have been happy with what I did, but she did see him lunge at her instead of me. If I hadn't gotten in the way, she could very well be dead right now. I've only known her for a short time, but I would do anything to make sure she's okay. If I had to repeat this entire situation, I would because I know she would make it out the other end.
The water cools in the bathtub, and she trembles. I stand and grab a fluffy towel from the closet and hold out a hand to help her out of the tub. I wrap the towel around her and tuck it in, letting her sit with the warmth around her.
“I'm not going to tell anybody what I saw. Can I please just go home?” The fear is back in her voice, and my heart aches for her.
I open the bathroom door and lead her out toward my bedroom, placing a hand on the middle of her back to guide her there.
“I don't think that's a good idea right now.” I grab a T-shirt and a pair of thick sweatpants from my dresser and hand them to her, letting her dress before patting the side of the bed for her to sit down. She slips on the pants and turns away from me to put on the T-shirt before joining me. “How about we watch a movie and try to get your mind off things?”
She nods, and I grab the remote from my bedside drawer so she can scan through Netflix and find something worth watching. She leans back against the bed, her feet propped up, and I sit beside her, trying to watch the TV to make her feel more comfortable. I can sense how apprehensive she is beside me, and I know it won't be easy to win her trust back fully, but I'm willing to try.