Chapter 10
?
Maksim
Outside, the sky is full of stars, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I gaze at them and feel something stir within the useless organ in my chest.
Though I had heart surgery right after birth, I'm certain that organ never fully healed. There’s an invisible thread vibrating between the chambers of my heart, and I know what it is—hope.
Tonight, we're leaving this place.
I hear footsteps and the door opens softly. Vera glances back to make sure no one saw her enter my room.
“You almost delayed us,” I say quickly, though relieved.
She looks at me with that familiar expression that tells me I exasperate her and replies, “Almost, but it didn't happen.”
Her light brown hair is wavy, and her eyes are soft blue.
Her nose is slightly upturned, and she has an unmistakable mole above her upper lip.
I know every feature, every small detail, every sparkle in her eyes.
Today, she's wearing a black knit dress, a flannel over it, and a wide belt at her waist.
I suppose this is what it means to be in love, to feel like this person is somehow part of you. Every time I look at Vera, I feel like I'm looking at a part of myself. A better part. Something I don’t deserve. Something I’ll never be.
“They've brought a new shipment of children, Maksim.”
Those words stop me from checking my bag. I know what it means. And so does she, but we can't deviate from our plan. We'll escape from here and build a life somewhere else.
I’m fourteen, but I’m big enough to convince people I’m seventeen. I’ll find a job and an abandoned cabin somewhere, and we’ll be fine.
“Come on, Vera. We can’t save everyone.”
“But we can try. Please. For me.”
Her last words are barely above a whisper, but she knows I can’t deny her anything. Officially, we’re just friends. Unofficially, she’s the first person I can say I love, and I’d risk my life for her—though she might not know it. Or perhaps she does but prefers to ignore the signs.
I know her well enough to understand that the voices of all the children we’re leaving behind will haunt her.
Even though she knows why we need to escape, my Vera has always been the caregiver.
She’s the one who tended to every beaten girl and stole extra food for the boys who were locked in the cellar to make them obedient.
With a sigh, I look into her eyes. Why do I feel like I might never see her again?
“I’ll go to the cellar to see what I can do, and you wait by the linden tree by the river, okay?”
“Okay,” she replies, a huge smile covering her face. “Maksim, we’ll leave this place. I promise.”
Something inside me trembles, and I want to shout that we’ll never escape.
Not today. Not ever. I want to hold her one more time because her image in my mind becomes blurry.
Her scent of chamomile and something she calls teardrops, too.
All I want is one more minute with her. Just a few seconds when someone looks at me the way she does.
As if she sees me. As if she cares. As if I’m her whole world, the way she is mine.
I jolt almost instantly out of my dream, and...something touches my hand. All the memories from the previous day flood back: Ivan, the Mexican order, Julia, the pregnancy test, a sorrowful gaze, and a midnight touch.
I recall when she placed her hand over my finger, and despite hating to be touched, it was…not terrible. Maybe it was her, but I didn’t feel that same burning sensation, the need to crawl out of my skin or to set this place on fire.
I waited. One second. Two. Nothing. The spot where her hand covered mine didn’t sear, and somehow, I fell asleep.
This interaction is all wrong.
I don’t want her to see me as some hero, some noble man, because that’s not who I am.
I know there will come a time when Julia will leave, like everyone else in my life, and I don’t want it to hurt.
Not as much. Because I managed to get over the fact that my own family didn’t care about my existence, over Vera’s death, but deep down, I know it will hurt when Julia finds her way out of this world.
You’d think that after being abandoned by your parents at birth, nothing could break you, but that’s not true.
Hope can kill you. Hope that all the abuse will end. Hope that you’ll leave this place and somehow have a life. Hope that someone will choose you.
Because I’ve never been anyone’s choice. Alexei Borisov chose a healthy son over me. All those families who visited me in the orphanage chose the obedient child, not the insolent one who glared at them. Vera chose the other prisoners in this house.
No one chose me. And it’s ridiculously stupid that this still gnaws at my mind. I don’t have time for these petty things. I’m nineteen; if I don’t save myself, no one will. And even though I don’t know what life will be like outside these walls, I know Vera would be proud of me.
I feel Julia moving, and without hesitation, I get out of bed. We have a long day ahead, and it’s better to get the show on the road.
As I rise, I make the mistake of looking at her, and something in my chest tightens.
She’s curled up on her side of the bed, but the hand that held mine all night remains clenched as if still holding my finger.
Her mouth is slightly ajar, and involuntarily, a faint smile forms on my face because this little thing is snoring.
I shake my head and head to the bathroom. With a bit of luck, maybe we’ll miss Ivan at breakfast. After brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower, I return to the room and speak as if Julia weren’t drooling on her pillow.
“We need to be downstairs in ten minutes.”
I see her frown, but she seems still caught up in her dream.
“Julia, wake up!” My tone is slightly impatient, but we have a small window in which to train her with guns today, and we should take advantage of it.
Her hair is spread all over the pillow, and for a few moments, I allow myself to look at her skin.
It seems so delicate. So fucking smooth.
I’m startled by where my thoughts have taken me, so I bark at her nervously.
“Julia, you’ve got a few seconds to get your ass up, or…”
“Déjame en paz, mamá!” she murmurs with her head still buried in the pillow.
I close my eyes and breathe in. I don’t speak much Spanish, but I’ve dealt with Rogelio enough times to pick up a few phrases. “Déjame en paz” means “Leave me alone,” and I intend to show this young wildcat who I am.
We don’t have time for sweetness here; we don’t have time to be friends or sleep peacefully while all the other soldiers are just waiting for a moment of weakness. Every second she spends in this house, on this turf, is a second some idiot is plotting how to hurt her.
I know what will happen when I need to leave for my next mission. The rumor will spread, and though many fear me, some fools will try their luck. Julia, at her 110 pounds, doesn’t stand a chance against even a junior soldier.
I head to the bathroom and fill a bucket with water.
It’s not exactly how I wanted to start our day, but maybe this is the wake-up call she needs to know she can’t sleep so soundly in this house. I test the water and find it icy cold, so I head back to the bed and, without an ounce of remorse, dump the entire bucket over her body.
“Hijo de pu…”
She starts to curse and scream, but when she sees who did it, her eyes widen, and it takes her a few seconds to form a sentence.
“What’s wrong with you? Couldn’t you wake me up like a normal person?” she yells, and I sense irritation in her tone.
Good . I need her nerves today if she wants to learn how to shoot something.
“Actually, this is my fourth attempt to wake you up after you told me to leave you alone, thinking I was your mom.”
I see her flush, and now she probably realizes how deeply she was sleeping if she hadn’t already noticed who was yelling at her.
“You’ve got five minutes to get ready, and then we head down to breakfast. Don’t speak, don’t look at anyone, got it?”
I don’t hear her response because I leave the room to let her get ready.
I haven’t even closed the door when I hear a soft “vete a la mierda,” and though she’s cursing me out, I can’t help but smile.
Keep your claws out, wildcat.