Page 71 of Vitaly

“Done?”

I tense, my spine straightening. “Huh?”

He points to my bowl. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, yeah.” I rub up and down my arm as he takes care of my bowl, all the while imagining what must’ve happened to turn him into the man who stands before me. Everyone seems to be curious, but I was skeptical he’d changed at all when he first came here. Now I feel like I need to know.

“Can I ask you something?” I call while he’s still at the sink.

He shuts it off then comes back toward me. “Hmm?”

“What was prison like?”

His face doesn’t change as he slows to a stop in front of me. Horrid memories don’t flash in his eyes, trauma doesn’t twist his face.

But still, it isn’t something he wants to talk about.

“You know, I’m feeling a little tired. I’m gonna head to bed. You have a good night, though, all right?”

My eyes widen at the sudden shift, but I don’t sense anger or contempt. I nod, having to collect myself a moment before I’m able to speak. “Y-yeah.” I clear my throat. “Sure. You too.”

He gives me a small smile and a dip of his chin before walking from the kitchen, leaving me standing, uncertain of what I want to do now.

This thing between us needs to stop. It does.

Someone could’ve come in, could’ve seen me staring at him in all the ways I shouldn’t have. The questions I asked were too personal, too inappropriate. The thoughts in my head were too intimate.

I shake my head to admonish my actions, filling with anger at myself for wanting Vitaly. And anger at Vitaly for running away like the coward he claims he isn’t.

When I finish my water, I can’t bring my feet to move me back to the shared corridor with the other women. The thought of going back there is unbearable.

I chuck the water bottle in the trash and head upstairs to grab my shoes, intent on going for a walk outside. Maybe the fresh air will help me clear my head.

When I pass Vitaly’s door, something makes me pause. It’s stupid, but I can’t seem to walk away, and the longer I stand, the more I’m able to admit to myself why.

I want him. God dammit, I want him, for better or worse.

Alekseevs are stronger than this. Unlike the Petrovs, we aren’t cowards. Weneverrun. We brave our storms, we fight our battles, we take what we want.

We take what we want.

My heart skips at that thought, mainly because I realize how untrue it is, at least for me. My life has become a constant waiting for men to place everything I desire into my hands. Life has made me pathetic. ThePetrovshave made me pathetic.

And I was wrong. Iama coward. I’m a coward who stands outside a man’s door, wishing he’d invite me in without the courage to just fucking knock.

I’m a coward who spends hours of my day begging for scraps and avoiding punishment.

I’m a coward who has let Nikita dictate my actions as well as my fate for nearly half my life.

I’m a coward.

Maybe it’s time I changed that.

19

VITALY

I’m lying down on the carpet, my fingers laced behind my head as I stare up at the ceiling, when someone knocks on my bedroom door. My head turns, but I don’t get up right away. I let another set of thuds sound before I lift the blanket from my waist and stand.

---