Page 56 of Sinful Embers

I remind myself I’ve survived worse—much worse! While his threats and rough treatment of me are physically and somewhat mentally damaging. I will not let him break me. I have enough shit going on in my mind. Enough guilt and anguish over what I’ve done. And I stopped fearing them on my second day here when I was jolted into the past and memory of that awful day came steaming toward me bowling me over.

The marks, bruises and welts on my flesh from scraping against the wall or him digging his fingers into my flesh will heal. Any scars he leaves I will wear as my battle scars and when I get out of here I won’t let them get to me. I have much bigger problems to deal with like getting the hell out of here and then somehow disappearing.

I wonder if my grandmother can help me. I wonder if Yaya Alexi is even alive. I haven’t seen her in ten years and even if I had I’d probably not have recognized her. Fuck! That must’ve been awful for her. I frown as I wonder if she even tried to come see me? I can still picture her, smell her, and fell her loving arms around me. Everyone feared Yaya Alexi, but not me. To me she was all the love and warmth my own mother was not.

Of fuck! I swallow and pinch the bridge of my nose—Mamma Galina! No I can’t call her that now. I’m not sure what to call her now.

My eye shoot open. Is she still having an affair with my father? I guess it’s not really an affair anymore now that they’re both single. I shudder thinking abou that as its just to fucking weir—my father with my mother-in-law. It doesn’t even sound legal of course I know it is—they’re not related. It just sound incestuous.

I wonder if she knows what happened in their dungeon that day ten years ago? I know she, Judy, and Viktor are okay. My throat suddenly goes dry thinking about the three people that almost died that day because of me. Because my fucked up whore of a mother thought I’d stolen her journals. I didn’t even know she had journals.

My eyes land on the clock above the cell door—5:30 AM. That’s my cue.

I wake before the guards change shifts, just like I have every morning. I don’t even need to look at the clock on the wall—I’ve memorized the rhythm of this place. The guards rotate every two hours, their heavy boots giving them away as they stomp past my cell. I’ve given them all nicknames—Stomper, Dragster, Clomper, and Cruncher—based on the sounds they make as they patrol.

They changed guards at 5 so now it’s time to shower and get ready before breakfast—before that dipshit Carlos wakes upas his favorite game is interrupting my shower to see me naked. Another shudder rushed down my spine. The man is a fucking pervert.

I throw off the blanket and make my bed, tucking the sheets with military precision. The cold tiles bite at my feet as I move toward the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes quickly. The dungeon’s water is frigid in the mornings, but I’ve gotten used to it. It does warm up quite quickly but it’s not hot like it was when I first got here. I’m sure I have Carlos to thank for that. Another of his little psychological games.

I scrub my skin quickly, my fingers shaking as I check myself in the steamed up mirror. I wish there was someone I could find out if I was pregnant but other than getting a pregnancy test kit, I’ll have to wait another month to be sure.

I of the small tally marks I’ve etched onto the back cover of my memory notebook to count down the days to my period. Today is day fifteen since I ovulated. I should have started my period by now.

But I haven’t. That now familiar jolt at the thought I might be pregnant zaps through along with the wave of conflicting emotions causing havoc with my nervous system.

I press my hand to my stomach, heart pounding. If I am pregnant…

God, what would Radomir do?

The sounds of gunshots blast through my head and once again I feel the vibration of the pistol in my head as if it just fired. I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t look at your hands, don’t look at your hand. It’s not real.

I quickly dry off and put on a clean pair of scrubs—purple ones to day. Not a pretty purple either—Barney the dinosaur purple. Thinking of Barney send my mind spinning back to becoming a mom. It’s both exciting and terrifying. In all honestly when I think about it, I have to try and steady myself as I wantmy baby, I just don’t know what kind of life I’m going to be able to give my child as our life will be one on the run, hiding in the shadows, under many false names.

The door swings open jolting me from my thoughts.

Timir steps inside, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His usual sharpness is dulled, but his eyes—those cruel, intelligent eyes—still pin me with unsettling precision.

Behind him, a housekeeper wheels in a cart piled high with food. A full spread. Not the usual single plate.

My pulse spikes. Something’s different today.

“I thought I’d join you for breakfast,” Timir says casually, stepping aside so the housekeeper can place the dishes on the table. “Carlos tells me you’ve remembered more.”

“Carlos told me you’ve been ill that’s why you have been here lately,” I counter, taking the lid of my plate and notice the carefully laid out healthy breakfast. There’ no secrets now. They know I might be pregnant and as such I’m now on a strict healthy pregnancy diet.

“I can’t disagree,” Timir tells me, pulling the lid off his dish and I notice his breakfast is just as healthy as mine.

“Are you also a health nut?” I watch and he pours us tea.

The housekeeper takes my wet towels and dirty laundry, and our eyes meet.

I freeze.

Recognition slams into me.

She looks exactly like Tracy Volkov.

Same delicate features, same sharp, intelligent eyes. But it’s not her. This woman is older than Tracy. There something in her eyes as she notices I recognize her. Like she trying to convey a message, but it’s gone as soon she turns toward Timir.

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