Chapter 22 Micah
TWENTY-TWO
MICAH
I don’t know why I’m not scared of Ilya.
I should be.
He’d shot Adam, then he’d beaten him to death with his bare hands.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t the first time Ilya has killed someone, probably in the same way, and I should be panicking about the idea of being alone with him. He could’ve been pretending to be gentle to me, to care about me, only to pay me back for betraying him.
I don’t think he was.
Instead of looking at him as we enter the condo, though, I go to the aquarium so I can stare at the fish. It’s easier this way, to look anywhere but at Ilya, as I try to sort through my conflicting thoughts.
I’m still in pain from the belting, and my throat is bruised from where Adam had had such a tight grasp on it. My ears are still ringing from his shouting, and the memory of the shot ringing out…
Adam could’ve killed me.
If Ilya hadn’t showed up, he might have done just that.
And if not today…
It was only a matter of time.
He was never going to let me go, not alive, and it’s a sobering thought.
“He used to call them ‘bullshit domestics,’” I tell Ilya, staring at the colorful fish as one of them darts across the aquarium.
“When people would hurt the person they said they loved, and they’d call the cops.
” I don’t know why I’m telling him this.
I don’t know why I’m saying any of it. “He used to rant and rave about it. And I always thought… What did they do to deserve it?”
I finally look over at Ilya, afraid to see his expression at the same time as I need to see it.
“Because they had to have deserved it, right? Just like I had. You said you didn’t understand why your mother stayed, but I thought I knew.” I shake my head. I’d been so wrong.
“She was afraid,” Ilya says carefully. “She didn’t deserve it. She was afraid he would kill her. And she was right.”
I look back at the fish. “Adam was never going to let me go,” I say, though I’m not sure whether it’s true or if I’m only trying to convince myself. “He would’ve hounded you until he found something, even if it meant setting you up. And he would’ve made me pay tenfold for every day I was gone.”
“Men like him, like my father… they’re insecure. If you break illusion of control, they get angry and snap.” Ilya comes to stand next to me. “I’m sorry you went through all this, Mishka. You didn’t deserve it. You never deserved it.”
Didn’t I? I don’t know anymore.
I stay silent.
“Do you want to eat?” Ilya asks. “I’ll cook for us. You can nap in the meantime.”
I don’t want to nap. I don’t want to dream of what had happened. I don’t want to close my eyes and see Adam’s body on the floor, knowing that he’s going to be disposed of like so much trash.
Like he would’ve disposed of me.
A wave of nausea hits me, and I shake my head.
I move so I’m standing closer to Ilya, and I rest my head against his arm.
I feel impossibly safe in his presence, with just the two of us here and the world so far away.
“He planted drugs in the cello,” I tell him.
“I…” I’ve never told Ilya much about myself.
“I used to deal.” I know, somehow, that he’s not going to respond poorly — but I also know it’s going to shatter the illusion of me being innocent, and I mourn the loss of that.
“Used to deal drugs?” Ilya asks. He shifts to wrap his arm around my shoulders. “Is that how you met him?”
I nod. “I got caught. He… He got me out of everything. Then when he found out I didn’t have anywhere to go, he offered to let me stay with him.” I smile, humorless as it is. “I guess there’s a theme, huh?”
“You want to be protected,” Ilya says. He kisses the top of my head. “The theme is you want to feel safe.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice as flat as I feel. “My family… They’d have expected me to go right back to it. And I didn’t want to go to jail. I thought Adam was exactly what he presented himself as: a good, strong, non-corrupt cop in a fucked-up system.” I sigh, closing my eyes. “I was wrong.”
“Your family?” Ilya asks. “They are… like me, like my family?”
I hesitate, trying to figure out how to explain it.
“It wasn’t great,” I finally say. “Mostly, they just weren’t there.
Then when I got older, they expected me to earn my keep.
It was dealing drugs or selling myself.” I slowly let out a breath.
“So I dealt drugs. I didn’t know what else to do.
They took everything I made, and I couldn’t get ahead.
I was sinking and sinking. I met Charles, and he was okay for a little while, too.
Took me away from my family, gave me a new place to stay.
But he expected me to keep doing the same thing.
We both got taken in for questioning one night.
He got arrested. I didn’t. I think he’s still serving time. ”
“Arrested by Adam?” Ilya sighs and ruffles my hair. “He saw you were vulnerable. He picked you because he knew he could keep you trapped.”
“It wasn’t always bad,” I say, even though I’m aware that it didn’t really matter. It was bad often enough to outweigh the good parts. “But… Yeah. I guess that was it.” I open my eyes and look at him. “Do you think he cared about me at all?”
Ilya purses his lips. “I don’t know. I don’t understand men like him. But I think he never cared about you as much as he cared about himself.”
The words hurt. Not because they’re not true, but because I think they are.
“Yeah,” I say softly. The gentle sound of the water in the aquarium is the only thing interrupting the silence for a moment before I tell him, “Can you hold me? For a little while?”
“Yes.” Ilya takes my hand and leads me to the couch.
We sit down, and I immediately climb into his lap and wrap my arms around him, ignoring the pain from the belting. Ilya returns the embrace, large and warm, gently stroking my back.
I bury my head against his neck and squeeze my eyes shut.
I don’t want to break down.
I don’t want to cry.
I’ve done so much of that already.
“I was afraid today,” Ilya murmurs. “When I called. I was afraid you wouldn’t pick up.”
I think back to how angry Adam had been that I had. “It… wasn’t good timing,” I tell him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have answered. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten as out of control as he had if I didn’t.” But I hug Ilya tight. “I don’t regret it.”
I’d take that belting all over again if it meant Ilya would be there to rescue me.
“Mishka, if not today, then some other day. But I didn’t want to be too late.” Ilya keeps petting me softly, like I’m somebody to be cherished. “I wasn’t ready to give up on you.”
“I’m glad you weren’t,” I whisper. “I didn’t tell him about what you told me. About your family, about your father. I want you to know that.”
But I would have, if Adam had kept hurting me. I’m not strong enough to have withstood that for much longer.
“Thank you,” Ilya says.
I nod.
For several moments, I stay silent, unsure of what to say. I bury my face against his neck and kiss the skin. I’m in pain from how I’m sitting, but I don’t want to pull away from him. I don’t want to let go of him. Not now, not ever.
“They’re going to ask you questions,” I say after a while of him stroking my hair. “I don’t want you to get into trouble for me. Maybe… Maybe I should just confess. Maybe they’d accept self-defense or something.”
I don’t believe that.
“Don’t worry,” Ilya says. “We’re good with dealing with things. His house will be empty soon. I’ll ask some friends in the NBPD to keep an eye on situation. There won’t be any trouble.” He lifts my chin up. “You were never there. He never told anyone about you. You are innocent.”
I’m not innocent. I’m complicit.
I nod anyway.
“I think I’d like that nap now,” I tell him. Mostly, I want to lie down on my stomach and alleviate some of the pain in my backside. “I know you have a lot to do, so I’ll cook for us when I get up. Okay?”
“No,” Ilya answers sternly. “I’ll cook. You rest.” He answers my pout with a pointed glare. “You’re injured, Mishka. I won’t make you serve me when you’re hurt.”
“I’m not that injured,” I grumble as I slide off of his lap, but I wince as I shift.
“But okay, okay.” I lean in to kiss him, slow and sweet, then I step back.
I gingerly make my way to his bedroom, wanting to be surrounded by the scent of him, and pull my pants off with a hiss of pain.
I set them aside then lie down, sighing in relief as some of the discomfort recedes.
I close my eyes and press my cheek to the pillow.
I’m safe.
Adam is gone.
I sleep better than I have in a long time.
I wake slowly from a deep, dreamless sleep.
It takes me a moment to recognize where I am, and I inhale deeply when I smell Ilya’s familiar cologne on the pillow. In the background, I smell food, too, and my stomach rumbles in protest when I realize it’s been too long since I’d last eaten.
I should get out of bed and go to Ilya right away. If he’s put together any sort of food for me, it would be ungrateful not to get up immediately. But I like this, too, getting to luxuriate in this sense of safety.
When I finally move to get out of bed, my entire backside screams in pain, and I wince. I must’ve been too high on adrenaline to feel the pain of the belting earlier, but that’s faded. I still get up, and wearing only a shirt and my boxer briefs, I wander into the kitchen to find Ilya.
He’s sitting at the kitchen table. It’s already set for two people, but it doesn’t look like he’s eaten yet. All he’s doing is browsing on his tablet.
He smiles when he sees me approach. “Mishka!”
Even though he sounds happy to see me, I look at him in dismay. “You didn’t eat?” I ask, my voice small. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep that long. Here, let me serve you.” I hurry over to the stove.
“No,” Ilya says sternly. The tone of voice makes me shudder and stop in my tracks. “You’re injured. Sit down. I’ll take care of you.”