Page 41 of Viripotent

“Sidet’ na chemodanakh.”

As per tradition, I go to the bed and sit down. There’s no conversation with it having to be in silence and I count the minute out tapping against my knee slowly.

What made me.

What kept me.

What will save me.

As soon as the minute is over, I ignore her attempt at conversation and take steady steps. Nothing else exists, I have tunnel vision that expands my current body. All I can see is Sankt Peterburg. It’s the only thing I care about, the only thing that has any control of me. My weakness and my strength. My biggest gift and my greatest loss. Dima is already waiting at the doors and the car is pulled up. He might not know the exactplace I’m going, but he’s accustomed to the routine and drives to the airfield in silence.

Steppinginto the frigid winter air of Sankt Peterburg has a shiver working up my spine. It’s not the physical cold, but the desolate memories and knowing who’s here. Choosing to give as much of my time to the one it’s split from; I take the keys waiting for me and drive straight to Vanya. One day a year is all I can give her, and my finger doesn’t stop moving against the steering wheel as I get closer.

The streets all look the same, the houses and the people. There’s no emotion as I pass the house where it all happened and the stupid bitch still lives next door, her curtains twitch and she’s probably cursing my existence as I pull up outside the wrought-iron gates.

Crazy old cunt.

It’s already below freezing and my breath clouds in front of my face as I turn my collar up and crunch through the snow. I don’t need any extra layers to protect me from the cold because everything inside matches and the untrodden blanket of the white welcomes me home. I own properties but nowhere will ever feel more like home than the place my feet carry me. My shoulders get heavier with each step as a woman freezes at the sight of me on the other side of the gates.

The fuckers here still avoid my eyes at the carnage they saw me produce, in fear of what dyavol will do to their already tainted souls. The self-righteous cunts think they’re better than everyone else, but their silence is a greater sin than any I could have possibly committed. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat and then piss on their remains if I could. Taking the path that I havememorized, I can relax slightly when I pass the tree and she comes into view.

There’s snow covering the headstone and I gently brush it away as my fingers tingle from the low temperature despite the gloves covering them. Pressing my lips into the frozen material, it’s like I can breathe.

“I’ve missed you, solnyshkuh.”

In my head I can convince myself there’s a reply. She misses me too. I can’t feel the ice under my ass as I sit on the bench. It’s positioned close enough that I don’t have to let go of my only tether to my Vanya and I keep stroking her headstone, clearing the snow off it.

Checking to make sure there’s no one around, I keep my voice low as a precaution despite not seeing another soul.

“Happy birthday. Just a few more and then I’ll see you again. As soon as Valyusha, Vitya, and Vityenka are fully safe, I’ll join you.”

My chest burns with the cold air, and I tuck my collar closer, refusing to leave when I don’t have to.

“I always think about what you’d look like now, or if you’d still smile at me. I miss your smiles, solnyshkuh, and the way you laugh. Sometimes I think I dream about you, but I can’t remember when I wake up.”

The air fogs in front of my lips as I silently hope that she can’t see everything that I do, in hope that she’ll smile at me again when I finally get to join her.

There’s no name on her headstone, stopping anyone linking her back to me and I wish that it was there. I wish there was proof of how much she was loved and will never be forgotten. Giving the only person who will ever hold my heart fully the words they can’t hear. I lean my head on the edge of the stone and my voice is barely audible to my own ears.

“I love you, solnyshkuh, you are the best thing in my life.”

Snow crunches and I turn, alert, sitting back and holding my gun on my thigh. Grigory doesn’t flinch or look surprised at my greeting and takes the seat beside me, pulling out a flask. My voice is full of judgment despite my own sins.

“Should a man of God be drinking?”

He was an old fuck when I met him in the middle of the night cradling a dead body and digging a grave, but he’s flaunting his win over the reaper now.

He turns to me with a soft smile as he pours the contents of the flask between two cups and steam rises straight away.

“Tea my boy, it stops the frost getting in.”

I don’t take my hand off the headstone despite how I can’t feel it as I hold the warm cup on my knee, feeling the warmth seep through my gloves as we sit in silence.

Grigory starts his usual questions around each sip of his tea.

“How are your brothers?”

Annoying little shits, but I don’t tell him that, keeping it to the basics.

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