Chapter 13
Konstantin
“I was raised under the careful eyes of nuns.” I began.
The moonlight shone in her eyes, playing the keys of mischievousness. “So you always had a thing for nuns? Glad to know I wasn’t the first.” Blair hassled me as she popped a piece of cheese in her mouth before unfolding the blanket I’d tossed her and draping it across her lap.
The coincidence appeared all too uncanny as I found myself at the very beginning— all the way to her. “Well, it sure wasn’t my intention, but there was no other way to go.”
She snickered a small laugh.
“And what about your parents?”
“I never knew my mother or father.”
Her eyes shied away with tenderness. “I’m sorry, I thought—"
I raised my hand, cutting off her pity party; I’m not a fan of anyone feeling bad for me.
“It’s fine. I guess I wasn’t clear enough.
I was found as a baby and raised in an orphanage in Russia with no more than this bracelet.
” I raised my wrist, raised my sleeve up to my elbow, and showed off a blue handmade threaded bracelet.
“I have no memory of either of them, so it doesn’t affect me. ”
“Doesn’t it?” Her voice became small and vulnerable as she squeezed her knees to her chest, placing her chin on them.
“My brain works differently. It doesn’t associate the same feelings with people as others do.”
“Still… I can imagine the want… the need to know them.”
An uneasiness rolled over my shoulders as I cracked my neck.
“And how could you be so sure? It’s not like you would know what it's like to be raised with no parents and in an orphanage.” As soon as I finished my sentence, her gaze became all glossy as she bit her lower lip, preventing herself from crying.
Shit.
You dense, ugly piece of shit. Stop talking so much. You eedot!
Remorse hit me worse than any crime I’d committed.
To think we came from the same world, yet I could bear the loneliness, but for some reason, I didn’t like that she had too.
“Kotyonok…” my voice dragged off. “What happened?”
“My parents had been in an accident along with another one of my siblings, but none of them made it but… me.” She sounded so disillusioned. “Lucky me.”
“At least, you had time with them.”
She shook her head with lost hope. “But… I don’t remember them. Not a single thing. Not one memory that can give me comfort.” The desperate reminiscence in her voice made a deep sadness swell in my chest. “It’s as if they never existed either way.”
“But they did. If not, you wouldn’t be here.” And I thank the stars, the universe, God himself, because he had saved her… saved her just for me.
“I guess you can’t argue with that logic.
The folks who adopted me, the Morgans, are kind, good people.
They’re even billionaires, so I can’t complain.
” Blair’s lips lifted slightly, brushing a hand over her long loose hair as she sighed.
“But enough, enough, let’s focus on you.
Stop derailing, or else I'll have to resort to other methods.” She pointed her finger menacingly at me.
I wasn’t used to taking anyone’s command except for the Pakhan, yet we weren’t in Russia, and he was dead, so for now I’d indulge her.
“Alright, where was I— ah, yes, the convent. So one icy morning in St. Petersburg, I was found on the steps of a church. The Reverend Mother immediately took me in. The nuns said they had never seen such a beautiful child, so they doted on me. Feed me, bathe me, taught me to pray and the rules and the laws of the Church before I even knew my ABCs.”
Blair let out a snort. “No wonder you came to me with that Law of Confession or whatever,” she waved off.
“The Seal of Confession,” I softly corrected as she rolled her eyes. “But yes, the nuns there taught me how to read, write, and speak in Latin, Russian, and even English all while I watched the other children play outside.”
“Aw, you must have felt lonely.” She cooed like a momma bear, her cheeks all pouty.
“I was fucking bored. Stuck inside twenty-four seven made me so curious about everything outside.” The visions of sitting in front of a chalkboard, watching the Reverend Mother teach me in cursive about the Ten Commandments, made me want to pluck my eyes out.
Yet that was one of the best moments. “However, whenever I was able to go outside, I was existentially an easy target for the other children. Picked on, laughed at, tossed aside, or outcast. There was once a fight when I was three years old, and I decided to go play outside when mass was going on, and then a group of seven-year-old boys came and attacked me. Punch, kick, cut my face, which is how I got this scar.” I ran a thumb across my left slashed brow.
She lifted her hand curiously, replicating the motion over my brow. One touch of hers washed away any pain or past afflictions. It was a damn cure.
“Those children must have been awful if they caused a deep scar.” She tsked; her lips drew a straight line.
“Well, it was bad enough. I spent an entire week in the hospital.”
Blair gasped loudly, moving the boat an inch and making the water ripple beneath us. “What?”
I caught her hand, settling her down as our hands became intertwined; the electric touch melted between us as I leaned forward, holding us together as she didn’t pull away. The air became livid with tension as heat simmered around my ears and my chest drummed so loud I thought she would hear it.
I continued. “The doctors didn’t really know if I was going to make it. The sisters came by every day and prayed over me. I guess it worked since I’m here in the flesh.”
With her free hand, she playfully hit my shoulder, barely moving me an inch. “Shush, thank God, because who else would harass my existence?”
“Ah, so you enjoy my company, kotyonok?”
“Maybe, just a little, alright?” she admitted, lifting her free hand and pinching her thumb and index finger together. “Someone has to devote themselves to charity, so here I am.”
I fought the incoming smirk on my face. “You weren’t the only one.”
“No?”
“No. There was one incredibly kind and sweet sister there. She was the one who tended to me the most. Sister Dina.”
“Sister Dina?” She pondered the name for a while, blinking intensely like she was connecting the dots. “Was she the reason Dya was named?”
I tilted my head side to side. “Technically, she was the one who gave me— us— the name Dya.”
Her hazel eyes became wide with amazement. “Really?”
“Before I came into my own person, realizing who I was, she was the first to ever acknowledge me. To give me something of my own— a name. So it stuck.”
“You loved her.”
“In a sense, she was the only spot of safety and comfort from the world.”
“She must have been so sad when you left the orphanage?"
“Well, I guarantee she wasn’t.”
“How would you know?”
“Because she died before I turned eight.”
Blair leaned back; brutal shock enveloped her face. Her next question was whispered. “She died? How?”
A heavy cloud sat on my chest, recalling the long-forsaken tragedy.
“You see, Sister Dina was the sister of the then Pakhan of the Bratva. She was born in a golden cage and a life that held nothing more for her than glorified murder and abuse. Naturally she longed for more, but once she grew of age there was a man who kept harassing her for her hand in marriage. She adamantly refused, but that son of a bitch insisted, and rather than give herself up, she ran away to a convent. Dictating her own fate. Her brother, Igor, supported her. However, it seemed no matter how far she ran, the bastard found her.” A note of discord ran through my voice, the inflection scarring me forever.
“One day, he showed up at the church in the middle of mass, going on a rampage about how he had finally found her after so many years and after all his hard work. He demanded what was his, that fucking asshole! He brought some of his rookies as he threatened to take her by force, but unknown to him the Pahkan was there with his forces, and soon a whole shoot-out began. The whole congregation went into a frenzy as everyone ran for cover. Sister Dina took me with her. We ran and ran, almost making it to her room safely as she tried to close the door, but there he appeared with two other men. They approached us and snatched me from her as she tried to fight— to hold onto me— but they overpowered her and threw me to the other end of the room as they began to beat and stomp on me. Their fist barreled into me as the other bastard cornered Sister Dina and held her by her throat, threatening to take her right then and there because after that shame she would be forced to marry him just to preserve her dignity. Somewhere, gunshots were fired, and something in me fractured. As one of them dropped the knife he carried and turned their back, so much rage and hatred exploded that I took the knife, stood up, and stabbed it into the man's back. The next in his femur. And the last bastard in his carotid artery. Stabbing and puncturing over and over, opening more wounds, unleashing all the abuse, mistreatment, and dirty looks everyone threw at me. Fisting his collar, I watched the light leave his eyes as my face was the last one he would ever see.” I tightened my palms in Blair’s hands, imagining the blood dripping from them.
The first man I’d killed was a mistake. The second was a choice.
That didn’t matter.
Once your hands were soaked in blood, the monster lived in you forever.
“Ouch,” Blair winced, the skin around her eyes tightened with pain as I realized my hands were crushing hers. My emotions were subconsciously being misdirected outside of my body, and that’s when I usually lost control.
Immediately, I let go. “Sorry, kotyonok. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never.”
She pressed her lips together into a faint smile as she used her hands to massage the other. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. It was an involuntary reaction to such a heartbreaking memory.”