Page 60 of Diamond Don

Yo postoyanno dumayu o tebe.

Deep within the grasp of my slumber, struggling to maintain my precarious grip on sentience, I will myself to memorize it. I don’t want to forget it. I want to find out what it means.

The last thing I feel is a slight, warm touch against my lips. As it slowly traces its shape, I succumb to the darkness again. The irresistible peacefulness it brings me is welcome, as much as part of me yearns to linger and enjoy more of the pleasant touch.

At some point, I find myself in a long, cold hallway. It’s dark and humid as water slowly leaks down the dirty, gray walls, and the harsh overhead lights flicker.

Faintly, I hear a woman cry. Her sobs and erratic breathing sound terrifyingly familiar. I can’t pinpoint where her voice is coming from or who it belongs to. So, I inch closer to a metal door across the corridor from me. As I approach it, it becomes clear the weeping lady is on the other side of it.

A few feet away from it, I recognize the voice as A.J.’s. Her inconsolable cries echo in the hall as I run towards the door; I yank it open, preparing myself for the worst possible scenarios my mind can conjure. But there’s nothing on the other side of it. Nothing but darkness.

My best friend’s sobs grow more desperate, and I rush to cross the doorway. My surprised gasp echoes as my feet find no ground beneath them. Before I can react in any other way, I scream in horror as air rushes around me.

I’m falling.

Panicked, I flail my arms and legs in despair, reflexively grabbing a coarse rope that my right hand brushes against. Unseeingly, I grip it as hard as I can and manage to stop my free fall. The rough fibers of the rope bite the palm of my hand as my weight pulls me down towards the abyss. Frantically, as my heartbeats drum loudly in my ears, I use my left hand to secure my hold over the miraculous lifeline.

The muscles in my arms burn as I struggle to pull myself upwards towards the light. I glance up and see the doorway I fell through a few dozen feet above me. It’s a luminous beacon in the darkness of the precipice. With a deep breath, I will myself to keep climbing, inch by torturous inch. Sweat makes my palms slippery, and I slide further down instead. It drips down my brows, burning my eyes, but I don’t dare let go of the rope with either of my hands to wipe it away.

I look up again, screaming in renewed terror, when I spot the stronzo standing in the illuminated doorway. His gold rings reflect the overhead fluorescent light from the hallway. He is dressed in one of his expensive Italian wool suits, black in color. He sneers down his tan, Roman nose at me, contempt and malice burning in his pale blue eyes.

I try to ignore him as hard as possible, pushing forward and climbing towards the evil man blocking the door. My palms feel raw and wet as if the skin has been removed like a glove. But at last, I reach the doorway. With a grunt, I grab the edge, groaning in pain as my arms and shoulders protest while I struggle to pull myself up. My groan turns into a cry of pure agony as fine leather shoes crush my fingers.

My eyes meet the stronzo’s when he cruelly smirks at me before delivering the final blow. He kicks me hard in the face, and I can’t hold on any longer. With a scream, I plummet to what I know is certain death as his mocking laughter echoes around me.

Suddenly, my breath is knocked out of me as I sink like an anvil into deep, freezing water. The cold is so forbidding that I freeze into place, unable to move my limbs. Yet, I urge myself to kick my feet out and push towards what I hope is the surface. In the pitch-black darkness, it’s impossible to tell.

My lungs burn with the need to breathe when I finally break through. With a frantic gasp, I inhale a chestful of air. But before I know it, the current grabs me, pulling me under again.

Again and again, I fight to keep my head above the water, but the current and the waves are stronger and relentless. My struggle is futile.

This is it. I’m dying. The stronzo wins.

Despair grows inside me, and I wail, knowing A.J. is soon to follow. I continue to fight, kicking and flailing my arms.

“Shh, shh, milaya.” A soothing voice sounds impossibly close. “You’re safe. I’m here. It’s just a bad dream.”

Scalding warmth embraces me. Somehow, I’m sitting up. It feels surreally impossible, but I blink my eyes open to find myself in a bed. As I regain my actual senses, somewhat in the back of my mind, it registers that night has fallen. The room is drenched in darkness and faint, pale moonlight.

Soft lips run over my hair and my forehead. Burning hot strength surrounds me everywhere. The clean scent of fresh linen and warm male envelops me. I can’t help rubbing my face on it. My heartbeat calms down.

“Kiska,” Nik whispers, his voice soothing me. “You’re alright. You were having a nightmare, that’s all. You’re here with me now.” His arms tighten around me as he continues to rain soft kisses on my head.

“I was drowning,” I say, sobbing against his chest.

“Shh, kiska. You’re safe now.”

“I fell in the dark, and I was going to drown. She was going to die… she needed me, and I couldn’t save her,” I mumble as my tears soak his sweater.

“No one’s going to die, kiska. It was just a dream. You’re okay.”

“You don’t understand,” I say between sobs.

“I’ll always keep you safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you ever again. I promise.”

Nik’s lips brush against my ear lobe, but his words make me cry harder. He shushes me again before rubbing my back and whispering Russian words against my hair. After a few more calming breaths, I realize that he’s rocking me back and forth.

Too soon, Nik’s Russian mumblings cease. A minute or two later, he says, “You need sleep, milaya.” He leans back, shifting us into a lying-down position while gently holding me in his arms.

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