Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“To understand a villain and his actions, you have to look into his past.
Wrong.
To understand a villain…you have to look at his childhood.
Because in most cases, evil is not born.
It’s raised.”
Levi
Levi, 5 years old
The water drips into the bathtub, the tapping sound almost unbearable while I hide under the sink, my teeth chattering against each other as endless tremors rush through me.
The rusty, cold tile under me chills my blood, my washed-out blue pajamas doing very little to warm me, and my sock-covered feet curl into the small rug in front of me, stained in red and brown.
Mama forbids me from sitting on it. She says it reeks of whiskey and bad memories.
The screams echo in the night, the monster rages in the room after coming here earlier and forcing me to be locked away in the bathroom.
I’m not even allowed to look at him because the last time I did, he punched me right in the eye. Mama had to press ice on my face for so long that it melted against my cheek, while silently crying.
Mama has beautiful blue eyes, so seeing them filled with tears hurts my heart and breaks it into pieces. I had to act all brave and say it wasn’t that bad.
But I was in so much pain and couldn’t touch my cheek for a long time.
“That’s how you thank me for my generosity?” he bellows, and I jerk when something hard tumbles to the floor, followed by the snapping of leather that results in more agonizing screams.
It means he took out his belt with the thick metallic buckle that leaves so many scars on Mama’s perfect porcelain skin.
He calls them his brands on her, and they stay imprinted on her no matter what she does.
She often scrubs herself in the bathroom until she turns super red, trying to get rid of them, but it doesn’t help.
The prominent J letter mars her back in all the different places, the first letter of his name that he never mentions out loud.
“You begged me to look at the Christmas lights. Please, you said. So I set up a tree for you.” Hit. Hit. Hit. “You wanted to run away from me! You’re a liar!”
This is about Mama telling me to sit still while she went with the monster upstairs? For the first time in my life, I’ve seen her so happy, so I just nodded and patiently waited. He even bought her new clothes.
She usually wears a dirty, washed-out long flannel dress, but this time, he brought pants and a super thick jacket. I’ve never seen such clothes before.
Despite being very afraid to stay alone without Mama, I sat on the bed. I imagined the different magical beings she tells me about coming here to help us, hoping she got what she wanted because she almost jumped with excitement.
Instead, he dragged her back here shortly after, gripping her hair and making her stumble inside until she fell on the table and hit her chin, groaning in pain.
Still, she gave me a specific signal, and I quickly ran to the bathroom. She made me promise I would always listen to her and do as she asked whenever the monster was around.
He rarely pays attention to me, only if it keeps her away from him.
“You’re mine!”
“I’m not yours. You kidnapped me!” she shouts back at him. “I hate you!”
I freeze at this and come close to the door as it rattles when he probably pushes her against it, wrapping his hand around her throat.
That’s his favorite punishment, choking Mama because her neck is always red and her voice is sore on most days.
He brings her honey, forcing her to mix it in water and drink it.
And sweet cake.
He always apologizes to her with cake, and we both hate it. I can’t stand the sight of it.
Because sweet treats mean my mama is in pain.
Not that it ever stops her from fighting back. Usually, the cake ends up on the floor, and he then forces her to eat it anyway.
“You’re mine.”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
“Repeat that all you want. I’m your prisoner, nothing else! I will find a way out of here!”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
Scrunching my eyes, I let the tears stream down my cheeks and hold back the sobs threatening to escape.
I focus on the water instead.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“There is no life for you besides this basement.”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
“Little lying whore! You give me what you promised. I want a daughter with the perfect genes, just like you. The prettiest girl and all mine.”
I hear a ripping sound and press my palms against my ears, rocking once again.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“No! I hate you! I’m not yours. I belong to my family!”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
“You have no family besides me. Forget about them. They think you’re dead!”
“You’re a sick bastard!”
Hit. Hit. Hit.
Mama cries out and then whimpers in pain, and my hands form fists. He probably grabbed his belt again and hit her on the back.
“You’ll give me what I want. A little princess with your eyes. We’ll be a perfect family then.”
“Get off me!”
I rush back to the bathtub and turn the faucet on full force, watching the water cascade from it and muting the outside noise away.
Those are Mama's instructions, and I have to follow them.
And gripping the bathtub’s edge hard, I kneel beside it and stare at the water for what seems like forever before the door unlocks behind me, and she steps inside, throws a blanket over me, and turns the faucet off.
“It’s all right, moy lvenochek,” she whispers as she wraps her arms around me, surrounding me with warmth and her sweet scent that calms the rapid beating of my heart.
She rocks me in her arms and presses her back against the door, and I feel her tears dripping on my cheek, but I don’t open my eyes.
I don’t want to see his bruises on her again. Her pain crushes something inside me that I can’t explain, and it makes me wish to hurt that man too.
So he’d be the one crying and begging and not us.
Mama kisses me on the cheek and exhales heavily while her arms squeeze tighter around me, “Vse budet horosho.” She whispers that everything would be all right in Russian, and I look at her right away because it’s a secret between us.
He told Mom to never speak her native language ever again, as he doesn’t understand it and hates the idea of Mommy holding on to her past that’s null and void now.
Whatever that means.
I sigh, tears filling my eyes at the sight of Mommy’s black eye and the blood dripping from her bruised lip. Placing my splayed palm on her chin, I wipe it away, and she smiles. “Don’t worry, moy lvenochek. Skoro vse eto zakonchitsa.”
That has been her go-to phrase for the past month: “Soon, it will all end.” And in such moments, I’m so happy that Mommy ignored the monster and slowly taught me Russian via various games and fairy tales she told me in her native language.
That’s how I’ve learned about the outside world. Mommy is a magnificent storyteller, and through her words, I can imagine what it’s like to see the sky, the ocean, the trees, or even other people.
Mama has a gift.
Leaning closer to my ear, she whispers right into it because the monster might have left the basement, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be listening. That’s why Mommy conducts all our lessons in the bathroom, with the water running. “Tvoy dyadya skoro naidet nas i vse budet horosho.”
“Your uncle will soon find us, and everything will be all right.”
Mommy also explained the concept of family to me.
According to her, we belong to a powerful family that wields significant influence in Boston. And my uncle is the only one who had taken care of her all this time, so she trusts him to save us.
When I asked who the monster was, as he called himself my father, she told me he’s a liar and thief who kidnapped her.
And to never consider him a father because a father is the one who loves, protects you, and cherishes your mother, and he’s none of those things.
He kept us here because he’s an obsessive rapist, a term she failed to explain to me, and he hates my uncle.
Mama calls him a true prince who would defeat the monster and free us from his clutches once he finds us.
That’s why she named me in his honor.
Lev.
It means lion in Russian.
I gently tap on her cheek, meeting her glazed-over eyes, which means he probably poured the brown substance he calls whiskey into her mouth again. She reeks of it too. “What if he hates me, Mama?”
The monster barely tolerates me. He calls me a little fucker with Lev’s eyes and attitude.
I’m not sure what it means because I’ve never seen myself. Mama said one can study their reflection in the mirror, but we don’t have any. The monster took it away a long time ago when Mama shattered it and wanted to cut her wrists with a sharp piece before I was born.
I’m not sure what that means either. I just know he yells whenever he remembers about it and tells Mama that her life belongs to him and if she ever tries shit like that again, he’d kill me.
She squeezes me even tighter, resting her chin on top of my head, and replies, “Impossible. You’re his blood, and his only heir for now.”
She once mentioned the word “mafia,” but she couldn’t properly explain it to me, so I’m not sure what it means. I just know my uncle is in the mafia, and this will protect us somehow.
She continues to rock me in her arms. “We just have to wait a little bit, moy lvenochek.”
Listening to her strong heartbeat, I close my eyes and get lulled to sleep, filled with hope about my uncle who’ll finally free us and put an end to her suffering.
The thing about monsters?
They either keep you or kill you.
And once they decide to kill you?
You’re marked forever with death chasing you after you wherever you go.
I should know.
I’ve been avoiding mine since the moment I was born.
Lavender
Rolling to the side, I burrow my face deeper into the pillow as an unfamiliar ache spreads all over my body, my sore muscles letting themselves be known with each move I make.