Page 66 of Crowned

She shakes her head listlessly. “I was here. They locked me in. I banged on the door and screamed for hours, but they wouldn’t let me out. They said…they said it was my fault because I am bad and disobedient, and it was in God’s hands what happened to me.”

Horror sweeps over me at her words. I get down on my knees next to her bed and reach for her hand. “But the baby. Where’s the baby?”

Katya’s voice is a cracked whisper. “It was dead. The cord was wrapped around its neck and it was blue. I didn’t know what to do.” Her face crumples and she sobs pitifully. “I’m so sorry, Kirill.”

Dead. The baby’s dead? But that’s not possible.

I picture Katya locked in here, alone and screaming for help while everyone in this big, fucking expensive house ignores her. I thought the worst monsters were poor, dirty, and live in squalor, like my family, but they have nice carpets and polished furniture too. They dine on lobster as they listen to their daughter scream for help.

“What was it?” I ask, my voice hollow.

“A boy,” she whispers, too tired and wretched to even wipe the tears from her face. They drip from her chin into her lap. “I think they buried him in the garden.”

A boy. Artem had a son.Ihad a son. That baby was mine and it was Katya’s. We wanted it, and Mr. and Mrs. Lugovskaya made sure it died.

I turn and walk blindly to the window, barely registering how I manage to climb out and make it to the ground.

How is the world so fucking cruel to a child that didn’t even get a chance to live? I thought the world only sucked for assholes like me.

I stagger away into the darkness. Rocks prick my bleeding feet, and the moon follows me with her accusing silver eye. Everything I touch turns to shit.

I wander long into the night before finally coming to my senses when I’m confronted with my own front door. I don’t want to go inside. If I lay eyes on Artem, I’ll smash his fucking face in. I’ll kill my father for what he’s made us. Katya’s parents would rather murder their own grandchild than be associated with us.

There’s nothing keeping me here. I’ll steal Artem’s car, take Katya, and we’ll drive away. Far fucking away from the families who hate our guts. I’ll work, she’ll get better, and she can find a decent man to marry. We’ll tell everyone I’m her brother or something.

Rage simmers in my heart as I return to the Lugovskayas’ house and climb the trellis to Katya’s room. I can’t wait to tell her I’m taking her away from all this.

Her bedroom is dark when I land on silent feet on the floor.

“Katya?” I whisper, gazing around at her unmade bed, the soft toys, and paperbacks on the bookshelves. Poor girl. She lost a baby, and she wasn’t much more than a kid herself.

The bathroom door is ajar, and I push it open. The room is dark, but a shaft of moonlight falls across the bathtub. It’s filled with water, and I can just make out Katya’s outline in the gloom.

“Katya? What are you doing there in the dark?”

I reach for the light and flick it on, and I’m greeted by a nightmare. The water is bright red and fills the tub to the brim. More red water decorates the walls and floor. I don’t understand what I’m looking at, until I catch sight of Katya’s arm floating in the water, a jagged wound up her inner forearm.

“No.” I cry out and run over to the tub. When I grab hold of her, the water is freezing cold and so is she. She flops lifelessly in my grip, her flesh as pale as marble and her eyes dead and staring.

I slowly let her go and stand up. Bloody water drips from my fingers.

This didn’t have to happen.

None of this had to fucking happen, and yet it happened around me while I was helpless to change even one tiny fucking part of this. I couldn’t save Katya. I couldn’t save the baby. They’re both fucking dead. I’m standing here in the aftermath, useless and broken.

I wait for myself to feel sick or revolted as I stare at Katya’s dead face. Even though she’s gone, she’s still so beautiful. More beautiful, really. All the pain she’s worn for the last few months is gone and she resembles an angel in a painting. I close her eyes, and it’s like she’s asleep.

I kneel down on the bloody floor and take her face in my hands like she can still hear me. “Shall I kill them for you? For you and the baby? I want to see them suffer. I want to see them burn in hell.”

Her cold cheek lolls against my hand, and it’s like she’s nodding.

“All right. I’ll fucking kill them all,” I growl through my teeth.

Even blinded with fury, I’m able to open Katya’s door silently and sneak through the house, evading the Lugovskayas and hunting for what I need.

Gasoline.

Matches.

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