Chapter 30 #2
I grabbed his wrist—weakly at first, then harder, nails digging into skin. My arm felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but I forced it anyway, yanking his hand out of my pants and shoving it away from me.
“Stop.”
The second word was louder, rawer, scraping up from somewhere deep and furious.
Ruslan froze. His eyes flicked to mine, surprise flashing there for the first time—real surprise, not the lazy confidence he’d worn seconds ago.
I pushed myself up on trembling elbows, then all the way to sitting. The room tilted viciously; I had to brace one hand on the mattress to keep from collapsing sideways. My chest heaved like I’d run miles instead of just sitting up.
“Don’t,” I said again, quieter this time, but steady. “Don’t touch me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think that cold bastard gives a shit about you? Don’t be stupid.”
I pressed a hand to my temple, heart pounding in a rhythm that didn’t feel like mine. “I think he does,” I whispered, confused by the sound of my own voice. My head tipped slightly, eyes unfocused. “Doesn’t he?” I asked the room, or maybe myself.
He scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, disbelief dripping from every movement. “You’re seriously telling me he loves you? Has he ever said it? Out loud? Or are you just filling in the blanks with your own delusion?”
I pushed myself off the bed, wobbling like my legs belonged to someone else. The words hit hard, but I couldn’t answer.
Because no. He hadn’t.
But that didn’t mean—
“Wake the fuck up,” Ruslan growled. “You were a game to him. A distraction. He’s not crying over you—he’s out there probably balls-deep in someone else as we speak.”
The words hit like a blade to the gut. Something inside tore wide open.
The drug surged again, heat and static crawling under my skin, slicing deeper than before.
My thoughts scattered, like broken glass on tile.
My heart clawed and screamed and sobbed in silence.
Was I a game? Just a way to pass time? He never said he loved me, but I thought he showed it.
I thought I felt it. Or maybe that was just the drugs.
Just the ache. Just my own pathetic hope.
A wave of cold sweat flooded me, my vision smearing as the world tipped sideways.
Time stretched and folded in on itself, and for what felt like forever I couldn’t breathe.
I backed into the wall, nails scraping, as agony clawed through my chest, savage and consuming—worse than anything I’d felt before.
Ruslan pushed off the bed, stalking toward me with a look that made my stomach turn. One hand rose, brushing my cheek—then, without warning, he shoved me hard, pinning me with his body, caging me in like a predator playing with its prey.
The contact jolted me. But I was still too slow. Too high.
Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t stop them.
“Let me love you,” he murmured, voice low like a plea wrapped in poison.
I tried to pull back, but all I managed was a slow, clumsy shake of my head. “I c-can’t,” I slurred, blinking hard. “I’ll never… never love you.”
His expression darkened into something monstrous.
He seized my face with both hands, his grip already bruising.
“You ungrateful little bitch. You drain everyone around you. I give and give and give and you just take. That’s all you do.
Take. You think you deserve love? You think he loves you? No one ever fucking could.”
My chest heaved. “Stop,” I sobbed, weak and desperate.
He didn’t.
His mouth crashed into mine. His hands locked around my wrists. Panic surged, but I was trapped in molasses. I turned my face, crying harder, trying to shove him off with limbs that didn’t belong to me.
“Even the Reaper threw you away,” he sneered. “Because you’re nothing.”
“Let me go!” I screamed, every ounce of strength poured into it.
A voice sliced through the thick air. “Guys—stop. What are you doing?”
Valeria stirred, groggy, eyes glassy and unfocused. She was too high—too slow, still trapped somewhere between sleep and static. “Knock it off. Come back here,” she mumbled, not fully registering what she was looking at, not fully understanding what was happening in front of her.
Ruslan froze.
That second was all I needed.
I slipped past him and ran.
Outside, the rain hit like knives.
Sheets of rain crashed down, ice-cold and punishing. My skin was soaked, my breath came in gasps, my feet raw against the pavement as I fled blindly into the dark.
I didn’t know where I was going.
The drug blurred everything. Maksym’s voice. Ruslan’s laughter. His hands. His words. It all spiraled into a surreal mess. The pain twisted until it was unbearable. Like I was split in two—one part screaming, the other too broken to care.
My mind began to fracture, thoughts bleeding into each other until nothing stayed whole. I slowed, hands shaking, talking under my breath like I was trying to reason with myself.
Maksym doesn’t love me.
No—that wasn’t right. He did. I felt it. I knew it.
Or did I?
My chest tightened as the doubt seeped in, thick and sticky. He said he’d always be there for me. The memory flickered, unstable. Did it actually happen, or was it something my mind filled in afterward?
My breath came out in broken sobs as I staggered forward, pressing a hand to my head like I could keep my thoughts from spilling out. This couldn’t be real. None of this made sense. My body felt wrong, my memories unreliable, my heart screaming things my mind couldn’t confirm
“This is a nightmare,” I whispered to no one, my voice shaking. “This has to be a nightmare.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as I ran, begging silently for it to end—for someone to shake me awake, for the world to snap back into place. Please, I thought, panic rising. Please let me wake up.
And then I saw the bridge.
The Parkovy Pedestrian Bridge sliced through the storm like an artery. Below, the Dnipro roared, devouring city lights with open jaws.
I reached the railing like I was moving through a dream, my hands finding it before my mind caught up.
Rain plastered my hair to my face, my clothes to my body, everything heavy and uncomfortable—but it all felt distant, like it was happening to someone else.
I looked down at the river, watched it thrash and roar beneath me, black and violent and alive. Its sound swallowed everything else—my thoughts, my doubts, my name.
The crying faded into shallow, hiccupping breaths. Then even that stopped. My chest felt vacant, like something essential had been scooped out. The world flickered, pulsed—then froze.
The drug hummed softly through my veins, telling me this was all a nightmare. That nightmares end when you let go.
The river waited below, silent and endless, promising an end to all of it.
And for the first time that night, letting go didn’t feel frightening. It felt like relief.