EPILOGUE
SEVEN YEARS LATER
DMITRY
‘We’ll start over. Make a new life together. Where no one knows who we are. Just you and me, Little Sparrow.’ That’s what I told Natalia, and I meant every word.
I sit with my heart full and stare at my sweet Little Sparrow, the girl I met in the darkness; the girl who became my light.
She pushes our three-year-old daughter, Anna-Maria, on the swing I built.
It hangs from the giant oak tree in our garden.
Her perfect little smile and cute giggles make life worth living.
The two of them make everything I’ve been through in life worth it.
To be around them. To feel love. Pure, real, unconditional love.
To have a real family. The family I’d always yearned for.
The tiny sheepdog puppy I’d bought for Anna-Maria curls up at my side.
I smile to myself.
My mother Anna is inside preparing our favorite family meal of pork stew and sliced tiger bread. I finally have the life I’d always dreamed of.
At first, I was angry, hurt, resentful. Part of me wanted to scream at Anna and tell her I wanted nothing to do with her, until she explained why she stayed dead for all those years. My mind flashes back to the day my grandpa died.
Sitting in the family room at the hospital trying to accept my grandpa’s passing is difficult enough, but having to grieve besides a woman I’d grieved already today is a complete mindfuck.
“Why? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? Why did you let me think you were dead? You let me believe Sylvia and Ruslan were my parents? Why would you do that, why?” I ask, rage burns through my fucking veins.
“I had no choice. I wanted to protect you, Dmitry. My mother, your grandmother, she told me to go, to leave and never come back. She threatened that if I returned it’d destroy my father—your grandpa.
It’d ruin lives. I was a child myself and fearful.
I was easily controlled, easily manipulated,” she replies, her breathing increases with every sentence.
“But why? Why would she tell you to leave? Why would she deceive my grandpa and let him believe his daughter died?” I ask not able to comprehend what she’s saying because I don’t fucking want to.
“Because I was an embarrassment, because your grandpa was a member of a group and she didn’t want him to be pulled back into that world if he went looking for the man who got me pregnant.”
“The man who raped you. You can say it. I know I’m the product of evil. I know I was never supposed to be conceived, never supposed to be born. And then I was born unwanted, unloved, an abomination.” The words sting me to say but I know it’s the truth.
“No, Dima. I wanted you. That’s why I never told Volk.
I ran away and hid before I returned home pregnant.
I let him think I’d left Moscow. He didn’t care enough to come looking for me, but I knew if he knew about you, he would find me, he’d find us and take you away.
I didn’t want him to take my baby from me, to take you away from your grandpa.
I knew you needed a good man in your life, and my father was always a good man. ”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Anna.” I tell her and I mean it with every fiber of my being.
A sadness floods my heart, because even though it doesn’t feel like a gift I know she chose to gift me life, and she didn’t have to. This woman gave me life.
“When I heard Volk was dead, I knew I was finally free.” She admits.
“I killed him. Grandpa helped but I killed him,” I say and look into her eyes wondering if she’ll see me as a monster.
“Oh, Dima. Thank you. Thank you for making sure he’ll never take another breath, Dima, my son. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become; you’ve exceeded all the expectations I had for my baby boy.
The moment you were born I knew you were my gift from heaven. I looked down at your tiny little face, tiny hands and toes, and I knew that no matter how long we had to be apart it’d be worth it to keep you safe.
You taught me what unconditional love truly is.
Seeing you now as the man you’ve become, I know it was the right thing to do.
If Volk would’ve known I was pregnant ..
. if he’d have known you were born, Dima, he’d have sent his men to take you away from me, to take you away from your family .
.. and he may have ... I don’t want to think about the what ifs.
” Her hands shake and she dabs at her eyes with a tissue.
“Ended my life. You can say it. I know he would’ve never loved me, and that’s okay.
I wouldn’t have wanted him to. He was a monster.
But now he can’t hurt anyone ever again.
My only wish is for grandpa to be here and for us to be a real family.
” I collapse and my body folds onto the peach blush sofa; tears fall from my eyes and dampen the fabric turning it blood-red.
I suppose it’s fitting as everything I touch ends in blood being spilled.
Bile rises in my throat as I wonder if in my mission for revenge, I’ve pulled my new little family into a world that’s too big, too destructive, too violent ... even for me.
As if reading my mind, Anna places her hand on my back. “It’s over, Dima. His men will move on and worship a new Satan. I’m free now. I can be who I’ve always meant to be ... I want to be your mother Dmitry ... if you’ll let me?” She asks and her eyes burn into my soul
As insane as it may be, her eyes staring into mine like this feel familiar, they feel warm, they feel like a mother, and I know in my heart the connection between us is undeniable.
“I will,” I say trying to hold back the longing for a mother’s love I’ve held inside my heart for my entire life.
A familiar voice sucks me back to the present day and I stand looking out at the little family I’ve created, I remind myself they’re safe.
The calm of his voice is what I need to keep me tethered in the storm as my psycho tries to push its way through—it’s been quiet lately, but it never quite goes away. It’s always there breathing down my neck, threatening to escape and cause havoc.
“Dima, go hand these to Natalia and your little one,” the warmth of my grandpa’s voice washes over me.
I look behind me to see him standing with one glass and a small sippy cup of my girls’ favorite fruit juice.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I reply as I take them from him.
“Ah, I know how Natalia hates giving Anna-Maria the processed stuff, so I squeezed it myself, just like I used to for you and Pawel.” He nods his head, a smile on his face as his pale blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight.
“Thank you, grandpa but you should give it to them yourself. I don’t want to take the credit.” I give them back to him then place my hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve been thinking, and I’m lucky I survived the accident, I’m lucky my old ticker started to beat by itself.
It’s not often they find a pulse after being declared dead.
I’m still here but I’m not getting any younger, my boy.
It’s about time you picked up my journal and finished reading it,” he says, smiles and walks over to Natalia and Anna-Maria.
I know he’s right and I smile at how lucky I am that after all the trauma he went through, he made it out of the hospital alive. I’m not sure I’d be where I am today if I’d have lost him.
We finish lunch and I play a song on my guitar for Anna-Maria. She drifts off to sleep as I sing, and Natalia falls asleep beside her. I look at the two of them together and ask myself what I did to deserve this life.
I go downstairs and sit outside on the bench staring at the wall Pawel helped Grandpa and I to rebuild. I hold tightly onto Grandpa’s journal, Roped and open it up—it’s been a while.
I inhale hard then exhale just as quickly. I know that I’m in a different place in life right now. I flick through the pages before settling on one.
I start to read.
I killed a beast today. I’ve never dealt the death card in such a beautiful way.
It was cathartic, poetic, vengeance and revenge both served together.
But it wasn’t a kill that lasted a day. This act was drawn out—it was the finale of a week’s long torture.
I never imagined the ending would’ve filled me with so much satisfaction.
The only thing that would’ve made it better was if my grandson, Dima had killed his abuser by his own hand, but I want to spare him from this world.
I found The Man. He doesn’t deserve a name, but his name needs to be burned into the memory of anyone who ever reads this journal.
His legacy as a child rapist is important.
We keep records in The Ropes, and this one isn’t just any kill.
This death, this kill is personal. The most personal kill I’ve ever carried out. His name is ....
I slam the book closed before The Man gets a name; now isn’t the time to reopen old wounds. I don’t need my psycho breaking free and torturing me with a name. I’m in a good place, but maybe later I’ll read Roped cover to cover.
I hope you understand who I am a little more now, my new friend.
After all, you’ve been here for my journey.
Perhaps we could sit with my grandpa and read his story together?
Small footsteps appear and a tiny body sits on the bench beside me.
“Daddy, can we sing Chop, Chop while we do the meat today?” Luka, my seven-year-old son, looks up at me and asks with a huge smile on his face.
“Of course we can, my boy,” I reply and ruffle my fingers through his hair.
“And Grandpa too?”
I nod. “And Grandpa too.”
THE END