Forbidden Deviant

Prologue

Mikhail – Six years old

The basketball slams against black marble, bouncing in rhythm as I walk down the empty hallway. Bounce. Catch. Bounce. Catch.

The screaming hits me before I even reach the living room. My brothers are fighting over the PlayStation Papa got us for Christmas. One PlayStation for all five of us, and I haven’t gotten to touch it once.

Every time I try, they shove me away and tell me I’ll break it, that I’m too stupid to figure out the controls.

I don’t mean to break things, but my hands move before my brain catches up.

Sometimes the anger gets so big I can’t hold it inside, and it has to go somewhere.

Things get smashed or ripped or shattered, and it’s always my fault.

Even Daniil gets to play sometimes. They let him hold the controller while they yell instructions at him.

My brothers are the ones throwing controllers when they lose, shoving each other into walls and knocking over lamps.

They break Mama’s decor and fight until she storms in and yanks them apart by their ears, but nobody tells them they’ll break the PlayStation.

Nobody says they’re too wild or too much. Just me.

Someone broke Mama’s vase, and everyone decided it was me.

The old ugly one from Russia she kept on the pedestal in the sitting room.

She’s been crying about it ever since, wandering the house with red eyes, and every single one of my brothers told her I did it.

I didn’t even go near that thing, but no one believes me.

Alexei said he saw me do it. Lev said I’m always breaking things, so obviously it was me. Yulian made a comment about how clumsy I am. Daniil was the only one who stood by me.

I hate it here.

America sucks. I miss babushka’s kitchen and my cousins back in Russia who didn’t shove me away when I wanted to play.

Ever since Papa moved us here a few months ago, everything’s been different.

My brothers used to be nice, they snuck me cookies and ruffled my hair and called me malen’kiy.

They let me follow them to the park instead of pushing me away.

Now they just tell me to shut up and shove me into walls and say mean things until I feel small and stupid and wrong.

The only one who isn’t mean to me is Daniil.

Papa brought him home when he was two. He was so small and clutching a stuffed elephant, his eyes red and swollen from crying so much.

His family died, and we had to take him in.

Papa said it wasn’t up for discussion. I was happy because I’d always wanted a younger brother, someone who would look up to me instead of down like the others did. Someone who would be mine.

Daniil cried all the time. At dinner, in the hallway, at night when he thought no one could hear. I heard him through the wall between our rooms, these little hiccupping sobs that made something tighten in my stomach. I’d press my ear against the plaster and wish I knew how to make it stop.

Bounce. Catch. Bounce. Catch.

Stopping in the doorway, the scene in front of me is exactly what I expected.

Yulian’s sitting on top of Alexei, yanking the controller out of his hands while Alexei tries to buck him off.

Lev’s standing over both of them, yelling at them to stop being idiots, his face red and spit flying everywhere.

One of the cords is stretched so tight it’s about to rip the whole console off the TV stand.

“Hey,” I say, bouncing the ball again. The sound cuts through their yelling for half a second. “Have you seen Daniil? He’s not in his room.”

They glance at me for two seconds, then go right back to fighting like I’m not even there.

Dropping the ball, I run and grab for Yulian’s controller before I can stop myself. Maybe if I take it, they’ll finally look at me instead of pretending I don’t exist. Yulian jerks it back and the controller flies out of both our hands, hitting the floor with a loud crack.

I didn’t mean to break it.

I just wanted them to stop fighting and look at me, to remember I exist.

“What have you done?” Lev yells, picking it up and holding it to the light. The plastic’s split down the side, the pieces barely holding together. “This is why you’re not allowed near us! You ruin everything, Mikhail. Everything you touch breaks, you stupid little shit.”

I want to yell back, to tell him he’s the one who breaks things, but he throws his head back and groans at the ceiling like I’m the biggest disappointment in the world.

Someone shoves me hard from behind, and I crash face-first into the marble. Cold bites into my cheek and my teeth slam together so hard I taste blood. Then they’re on top of me, crushing down on my ribs and grinding my face into the floor until breathing feels impossible.

“Stupid.” Yulian’s voice is right in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. He grinds his elbow into my spine just to make it hurt more. “You never listen. Why are you so annoying? We don’t want you here. Do you understand? Nobody wants you.”

I kick and twist, but I can’t get him off me. He’s five years older than me and way bigger, and he knows exactly how to pin me so I can’t move. It’s not fair. My chest hurts where he’s crushing me, and I can’t breathe right.

I hate all of them.

All of a sudden the weight disappears, and I hear Yulian crash into the floor beside me with a groan and a shocked curse.

I flip over fast, gasping for air.

Daniil is standing there with his tiny fists clenched, breathing hard like he just ran a mile.

I can’t believe he just shoved Yulian off me. Daniil, who’s never mean to anyone. His whole body shakes, and his eyes are huge and scared as he stares down at his own hands, like he can’t believe what he just did. He looks terrified of himself.

Nobody moves. Even my brothers just stare, frozen in shock.

Then Daniil takes off running, and I scramble to my feet and run after him before my brothers snap out of it.

Our feet slap against the marble, and their yelling fades behind us, getting quieter until all I can hear is our breathing and footsteps and my heart pounding in my ears.

Daniil’s quick, but my legs are longer since he’s a year younger than me, only five years old.

He doesn’t talk, hasn’t said a single word since the day Papa brought him home.

“Mikhail!” Papa’s voice explodes through the hallway, and my entire body goes tense.

We both stop dead. I turn around, and he’s already storming toward us with the belt gripped tight in his hand. My stomach drops. I didn’t mean to cause trouble this time.

He’s always mad at me, always hurting me, even when I try really hard to be good. I always get the belt and get locked in my room with no dinner until my stomach hurts so much I cry.

Yesterday I was so good. I didn’t talk at all during dinner, not even once, and I sat with my hands folded just how Mama taught me.

I thought maybe he wouldn’t be angry if I was perfect, but he still hit me anyway.

Last month I made him a picture of the two of us holding hands and smiling, and I found it in the trash that same day.

I wanted him to keep it somewhere so he’d see it and remember I love him.

I worked really hard on it and used all my favorite colors.

Maybe I’m bad and I don’t know how to be good. Maybe that’s why my brothers don’t like me anymore. They can tell something’s wrong with me, and that’s why nobody wants me around. My heart beats so fast it hurts, and I start backing up before I turn around and run.

“What did you do this time? Why can’t you ever behave yourself!”

He’s fast, too fast, and I can hear his footsteps pounding behind me, getting closer. At the last possible second, I throw myself down into a ball on the floor, arms going over my head to protect myself.

He doesn’t have time to stop.

His foot catches me in the stomach and knocks the air out of my lungs.

Then he’s flying over me, slamming into the wall with a brutal thump that rattles the pictures hanging nearby.

Something heavy falls off the shelf above him and crashes down onto his legs.

A string of Russian curse words floods out of him, echoing down the hallway.

Daniil’s hand locks onto my shirt and drags me up, and we’re running before he can get up, our feet pounding against the floor.

Behind us, Papa is shouting at us to stop, his voice getting fainter as we put distance between us and the wreckage we just left behind.

We crash through the front door and fly down the steps, across the driveway. The sun’s bright and cold air hits my face as we run. We tear across the grass, through the trees behind the house, into the forest. We don’t stop running until my lungs burn and I taste metal in my mouth.

“Wait.” I drop face-first into the dirt, gasping hard, my lungs feeling too small.

Daniil stops and doubles over, panting with his hands on his knees. His face burns red, and his black hair stands up everywhere, messy from the wind.

Light breaks through the branches above and lands in his hazel eyes, making all the tiny brown spots shine against the green.

They look like moss in the forest when the sun finds it through the leaves, glowing soft and warm and alive.

Dark marks rest under his eyes like bruises because he still doesn’t sleep well.

Sometimes he wakes up crying in the middle of the night, and nobody cares except me.

I hear him through the wall and go to his room to comfort him. I always end up sleeping in his bed.

“Thanks.” I wipe my face on my sleeve, tasting dirt. “That was so cool. You knocked him right over. Did you see Yulian’s face?”

He drops down beside me, pulls his knees to his chest, and nods. His breathing comes fast, and his hands tremble.

I don’t care that he doesn’t talk. We have fun no matter what, and the silence feels good with him. Peaceful. Quiet in a way that doesn’t scare me, nothing like the quiet when Papa’s mad and we’re all waiting for him to hurt us.

He starts biting at his nails, and I roll my eyes, pulling his hands down. “Stop. Mama says it’s gross. She’ll make you wear those stupid gloves again.”

He drops his hands and stares at the ground, letting out a huff.

“Where were you? I looked everywhere. Under your bed, in the closets, even in the pantry behind the flour bags.”

He frowns and turns away so I can’t see his face.

“Were you talking to that lady?”

Mama makes him do speech therapy every day with this weird old woman who comes to the house.

She has big teeth and smells wrong, like old flowers left in water too long, and I don’t like being near her.

Daniil always looks sad after their sessions and hides somewhere I can’t find him for hours.

I think she’s hurting him when no one else is around, and nobody notices but me.

He shakes his head fast.

“You hid from her?”

He nods.

“Good. She smells like old soup anyway.”

His mouth twitches, and he glances over at me.

“We should come here instead and hide out. I’ll teach you how to talk. I can do it way better than her anyway, and I don’t smell bad. Plus, I actually like you. You’re my best friend.”

He nods fast this time, bouncing a little like he’s excited.

The trees are starting to go green because it’s early spring, but the one next to us looks dead. It has a thick trunk with a weird crack near the bottom that looks like a mouth screaming.

Standing up, I brush the dirt off my pants, then walk over to look closer.

It’s hollow at the bottom and dark inside, the opening just big enough to fit my arm in if I reach carefully.

Perfect for hiding things. I crouch down and peer into the darkness, trying to see how deep it goes.

The wood is rough under my fingers, carved out by time and rot, and when I press my hand against the edge, some of the bark crumbles away and falls into the hollow space below.

“Daniil, look at this.” I wave him over without taking my eyes off the tree. “We could hide stuff in here. Our stuff. Things the others can’t find.”

His whole face lights up when I show him the hollow. I like making him happy.

“Only ours though, okay? They can’t know. It’s our secret hiding spot.” I spit in the dirt. “I hate them. All of them.”

He grabs my hand and squeezes tight. The pressure says everything he can’t put into words. He’s choosing me. Us against them, the way it’s always been.

“We’ll keep snacks here. Like our favorite cookies and candy bars. The others always eat everything before we can get any, and we need our own stash.”

His eyes light up, and he nods fast, bouncing on his toes.

“And maybe some toys. Books. Stuff that’s just ours.”

I look back at the house through the trees, barely visible now. “Let’s go back. You point at what you want to bring, and I’ll carry it here for us. Maybe we should bring blankets too so we can sit on them when it’s cold.”

He smiles again, a real one this time that shows his teeth. We lace our fingers together and start walking back. His hand’s smaller than mine but he grips hard, like he doesn’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go either.

“Hey, Daniil?”

He meets my eyes and waits.

“Can I call you Danya instead?”

He smiles and nods.

“Really? Because I want to. A special name that’s just mine for you, not what everyone else calls you.”

He squeezes my hand.

“Would you like the old lady to disappear? I could make it happen for you. Alexei taught me how to hide someone when I don’t want them found. I could hide her here in the woods if you want me to. She’d never bother you again.”

He bites his lip and stares at me, eyes huge, searching my face to see if I really mean it. Then he nods once.

Killing doesn’t scare me. Papa’s had me watch him do it since I was four, teaching me how it works, showing me where to cut so they stop moving. The lady is old and slow, which means she won’t fight much.

I’ll tell her I lost something in the forest and need her help finding it.

Bring her out past the trees where nobody walks anymore.

Papa’s knife is still under my mattress where I hid it last month, and I’ve practiced with it on the trees enough times to know how much pressure it takes to cut deep. I know exactly what I need to do.

He’ll be safe after she’s gone. No more speech therapy. No more hiding.

“Danya?”

Those hazel eyes lock on me, patient and waiting.

“You and me forever, no matter what. Promise?”

He squeezes my hand hard, like he’s sealing it.

Smiling, I look at the tree one more time before we break through the tree line, heading back to the house that hates us. The tree is our secret, something they can’t ruin or take away or tell us we’re not allowed to have. It belongs to just us.