Page 38 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

“Of course, rybka.” She presses her lips to my forehead, “YA tak lyublyu tebya, moy milyy mal’chik. No matter what, okay? No matter what.”

I giggle as she rubs her nose against mine. “Mama, I don’t know that many words in Russian yet!”

The bathroom opens, the door slamming against the wall making me jump and step further into my mother’s arms. Dad steps into the room. He’s so tall, and he tells me all the time I’ll be just like him one day.

“Hi, Dad,” I say. “Mama and I are going on a trip!”

But he doesn’t smile. He just stands there staring down at us, the way he always does.

“Oh?” he asks, looking at my mother and smiling.

“Henry—”

“Come here, Alexander.”

His voice makes me move further into Mama’s arms. It’s cold and makes me feel like I’m in trouble. I shake my head, looking up at her because I don’t want to go with him.

“We are leaving,” Mama tells him, standing up so that I’m tucked behind her. “I won’t bother you again. I won’t speak of you.”

I see Dad’s feet moving towards us, and my heart starts to race. I can feel it banging against my chest, and my stomach feels sick. Curling my fingers into the material of her skirt, I cling to her, even when he reaches down and grabs my arm.

It’s so tight.

“Dad, you’re hurting me,” I cry, trying to pull away from his grip, but he won’t let me go.

“Henry!” Mama yells, grabbing at him so that he’ll let me go.

But he doesn’t. He just pulls me harder until he has me by his side, holding me there. I reach my other hand outward, jerking away. I don’t want to go with him when he’s upset.

He’s so mean when he’s angry.

Tears burn my eyes, and I can feel my cheeks turning wet.

“Mama, I’m scared.”

“No,” Dad says, looking down at me. His eyes are so dark they almost look black. “Look what you’ve done to him, Talia. You’ve made our son weak.”

Mama cries harder. “Henry, please! Just let me take him. I’m begging you just let me have him, and you won’t hear a whisper from us again.”

My small body shakes, sobs making my bottom lip wobble.

I don’t like this.

I don’t want this.

“I won’t let you ruin what I’ve created, Talia. He’s my son, and you will not take him from me.”

There are screams and yelling. I’m calling for my mother, over and over again. My voice hurts my throat, and the room feels like it’s spinning. She runs for me, and I reach for her, but we never make it.

Dad shoves her backwards, and she fights against him. Fights to get to me until she can’t anymore. He doesn’t look like my father. He looks like a monster.

The ones Mama scares away before bed every night.

His big hands wrap around her throat and—

My first breath of air hurts my chest.

I gulp it down violently, sweat sticking to my brow as I sit up out of bed. My fingers are curled into the blanket, the whites of my knuckles caught by the moonlight.

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