Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Alisa
Chilling wind whipped across my hands and poked at the hole in my puffy jacket. It was a consistent reminder that my outfit didn’t belong in this part of town.
A Lamborghini sailed by, sending icy mud in my direction. How had this night gone to such shit? The soothing embrace of the alcohol had left my system during the subway ride to my parents’ neighborhood and my trek up their street.
A tall man with a dark gaze met me at their door, a small bulge in his suit jacket revealing the gun I knew he had underneath. My stomach turned over as he opened the door for me.
Golden light trailed outside and skimmed over the shadows covering us. All I wanted to do was run back to my crappy apartment, throw back some wine, and slip into the fantasy of dreams Gemma had clung to so dearly.
Instead, I stepped out of the night into an even worse darkness.
“Alisa,” my mother said with a tight smile as she ushered me inside. Everything was exactly the same as the last time I’d been there. Pictures of Kiril playing hockey, Kiril smirking at the camera-
I looked away, I couldn’t dwell on the child that my parents wished had lived instead of me. I needed to survive this night.
“How’s work going?” my mother asked while I shrugged my jacket off.
“Good.”
I waited for her eyes to light up. After all, my success reflected on my parents, and added to their wealth.
She nodded stiffly and hung the jacket I’d been able to thrift with my miniscule funds. After a beat, she wrapped me up into a hug. It felt hollow, like she was going through the motions rather than embracing me because she wanted to.
Still, I melted against her. Some of the tension left my body that’d manifested the second she texted.
I spotted a blossoming bruise on her arm. Guilt seeped into that spot the tension had vacated.
“How are you doing, mom?” I asked, staring at the bruise with a frown.
She tucked the sleeve of her dress lower, hiding it from view. If only it were that easy.
There was a crash in the distance, and her lips pinched into a line. “Would you like something to drink?”
I’d need it to survive the evening. Without waiting for my answer, she strode towards the bar cart and poured vodka into a glass.
I gently took the glass out of her hand and added a mixer to my drink. When heavy footsteps echoed in the distance, I tossed back half of it.
“Alisa? What are you doing here?” my father said, a slight slur in his voice.
I steadied myself before turning away from the onyx bar cart. “Good to see you,” I lied.
“You look like shit,” he said, his nose wrinkling as he looked me over.
I shoved down any sarcastic thoughts. Then swallowed down the frustration that I looked like this because I was forced to drug myself with poisons. And it certainly didn’t help when they severely restricted my spending.
All of it I forced down my throat with vodka.
When I polished off the rest of my drink, I found safe words to lighten his dark mood. It was the reason mom always called on me, leaned on me.
I was the only one left who could bring my father from this dark place, away from the moods that left bruises along everyone's arms.
“Did you know I reached twentieth place in the competition?" I said, moving the subject to a safer place.
I don’t know why I worded it as a question. Of course he knew. The competition was probably the only reason I’d been born.
Irritation rippled across his face. Surprise bubbled up inside of me at his reaction. His fingers tightened around an empty crystal cup, and for a moment I hoped it’d shatter.
No, that would just piss him off more. I needed to calm him. Play the part of the docile daughter.
“The Pakhan announced my new rank at the meeting. You know, it’s the highest I’ve ever been ranked,” I reminded him with a smile.
Higher than Kiril had ever ranked, but I wanted him docile, not pissed, so I kept that to myself.
“I heard all about the meeting from my friends,” my father snarled.
I shrank in on myself like I was five years old and he’d caught me playing with my friends down the block instead of studying Russian.
Was he pissed that I hadn’t reached higher?
“My numbers just keep getting better, I’m hoping that-”
“And I hope you stop embarrassing me.” He slammed his drink down so hard that the wood table rattled.
It wasn’t the only thing rattled. Instinctively, I took a step back. “What d-did I do wrong?”
His bloodshot eyes narrowed, and he stepped close enough that I swore I could smell the aftertaste of whiskey dripping from his tongue. Nausea rolled up my stomach, but before I could react he slapped me across the face.
I stumbled backwards, and his roar echoed across the room, “The men at the banya are still laughing about how Dmitri Novikov embarrassed you on the sparring mat.”
For a moment, I was so stunned that I didn’t see his punch coming. I curled my arms around my ribs when the blow and the meaning behind his words hit me. He’d heard about how Dmitri had played me like a toy on the sparring mat. How he’d made me appear so weak and defenseless.
Another hit came. When I looked at my mother, her eyes were averted.
“But I set a personal record with my ranking,” I said, gasping around the pain in my ribs. I tried to grasp onto anything to make him stop.
“You think that will last long after your performance in front of the Bratva? Everyone says you slept your way to your position. They say that someone so weak would never get there on their own merit.”
He swung again, but his words hurt more than the impact.
I had done everything right. When all I had wanted to do was rest after another microdosing, I dragged my weakened body out of bed and took on extra assignments to boost my rank. I took drugs that weakened my organs, probably leading me to an early death.
And for what?
Nothing was ever enough.
A laugh startled out of me. My father froze in place, his fist in midair. For the first time my mother looked me in the eye, disapproval radiating off her.
But I couldn’t stop laughing.
The absurdity of it all.
No matter how hard I tried in the competition, it would never be enough to escape this. My father would always beat me for real or imagined slights. I’d never be free of this if I followed his rules.
His face purpled as the gulping laughs kept escaping me. I knew this was going to end very, very badly. But I couldn’t stop myself.
My father’s leg connected with my ribs, but my laughter didn’t even stutter.
It only stopped when darkness encircled my vision, and I was finally allowed to rest.