Page 17 of Sinful Promise

I pull off my nightgown and put my undergarments on. Katsia takes the dress off the hanger and holds it high. I slip under it, and it falls onto my shoulders. I smooth it down with my hands, and Katsia zips the back.

“What does sex feel like? I hear it hurts the first time. Does it get better? I mean, I figure it does. Otherwise, why would everyone do it repeatedly, right?”

“Oh, yes. Much better.” She snickers.

“Will I be able to get far enough, fast enough, to not get caught?” The conversation turns serious because I need to know I stand a chance of getting away.

“Okay, well, wear sneakers under your dress. The dress is long. I mean, nobody’s going to be looking at your feet.”

“Right, great idea.” I open the small closet and pull out my sneakers. They were a Christmas gift I had begged for while in middle school. They are white and won’t stand out too badly.

Katsia looks at her watch. “We don’t have much time. It’s getting late. Your dad will be banging down the door soon.”

“This should be a happy day, but all I feel is dread,” I murmur, letting out a long sigh. I stand in front of a mirror, let my light brown hair down, and rip a brush through it.

“You’re going to be bald if you keep taking your anger out on your hair. Oh, no, I don’t even have time to change.” Katsia’s face falls when she realizes she is dressed in jeans.

“Don’t worry. If I’m lucky, you get another opportunity. Next time, I hope it will be to someone a lot younger and that we’ll be in love.”

“I want that for you, too, Dasha.” She lowers her voice. “I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

I kiss her cheek. “Now, what can we do with my hair?”

“I’ll braid it and stack it on top of your head like I did for my birthday last year.”

“Oh. Yeah,” I smile at the memory. “That was amazing.”

Just as Katsia puts the last touches on my hair, as predicted, Papa comes to the door. “I hope you’re ready, Dasha,” he yells. “Don’t keep me waiting. I can’t have you embarrassing me.”

“Fine, Papa.” I practically sing the words to convince him I’m on board with his plan. He knows me too well, and if I don’t play along, there will be consequences.

I open the door.

“You look great. Why no makeup?”

“I didn’t want to smudge the dress.” The lie rolls easily off my tongue. Katsia walks behind me, picking up her purse.

“Fine,” Papa huffs. “Let’s go.”

We climb into his old VW four-door sedan. It smells of cigarettes and spilled beer. I roll down the window, thankful the drive to the church takes less than ten minutes.

“Are Vlad and Albert going to be there?” I ask.

“They said they would be.”

This bit of information tells me that everyone knew this was happening except me and Katsia. Katsia rolls her eyes.

I stare at Papa’s reflection in the rearview mirror and wonder how much he got paid to enslave me to Andrian. Papa is a pathological liar, and I trust nothing he tells me. It’s hard to train myself to think in this fashion. It’s not a normal or healthy way to live.

“We’re here, and there are your brothers,” Papa chimes in as he pulls the old car up in front of the neighborhood church.

Katsia and I exchange a look of panic. Vlad set the track record for the 800 meter races in secondary school six years ago. Hopefully, his late nights of drinking in pubs and a few extra pounds will slow him down.

But it doesn’t keep the blood from draining out of my face.

This is where I hope Vlad trips over the short shoelaces in his dress shoes.

“Hi,” I say, giving him an obligatory hug.

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