Page 101 of Viparious

My entire body is frozen but it’s not due to the cold as I lower to the edge of the grave. I can’t feel the ice soaking through my shorts as I slide down. There’s no impact against my ankles as I move. My hands come up, unzipping my coat and I lay it on the frozen ground, so Vanya isn’t cold. Then I lay down on my back because I’m not ready to leave her. My eyes close and I imagine it’s over, that I never have to get up, and I can stay here with my baby.

“I never got to hear you call me papa.” My vision blurs as the first full rays hit the snow, making it glisten. “Iwillnever hear you call me papa.” I stroke down her back and cup the back of her head. “You never had a birthday.”

“I was going to get the things for your uncles to make you birthday cards, but I wasn’t sure what toys you would like, so we were going to go pick them together. I thought I’d have you forever, that you’d be with me forever, but I messed it up. I’m sorry, I should have let them find you a different family, one with a papa who wouldn’t forget to close the window. You could have had a mama too. But I needed you and I loved you before I ever saw you. I won’t be selfish again. It’s why I have to make sure Valyusha and Vitya are okay. Then, as soon as they’re okay, I’ll come back, and I’ll never leave you again. I miss you so much.”

She’ll be all alone now. The ground is cold, and I didn’t get enough blankets. I should stay here so she’s not alone, but my brothers are still locked inside. They’ll be hungry soon. I turn on my side and keep her head protected as I gently lay her down on her back. Then kiss each of her cheeks, her little nose, her forehead, and over each of her eyes.

“I love you, Vanya, I’ll come back when Valya and Vitya are older, okay? Then I won’t leave you. As soon as they’re safe, I’ll come back and go to sleep right here.”

I take my hoodie off and wrap it around her, my eyes closing as I cover her face, so she doesn’t get mud on her.

The burn leaves my eyes and settles in my bones. I know this was my fault, but they made me fight. I can’t cry because that’s weakness. But I can be angry. That’s strength and I crawl out of the mud, knowing how to make it better. I leave my baby in the frozen earth and grab the shovel. I can see how small she is, just a little bump under my hoodie, mainly blankets, as I press all that frozen earth back on top of her. It’s crushing her and I choke. I’ll never stop choking.

They took her away from me. If I could have slept instead of having to fight every night, I would have remembered to close the window. If I wasn’t at the fight, I would have been home and closed the window. If they weren’t too busy fucking each other, I would have closed the fucking window.

That burn in my bones intensifies. I don’t know who I am, but it’s not who I was before the window was open. It’s dark and I need to get it out, to make them all pay because they took her from me. There’s nothing left of my life now, and there’s going to be nothing left of theirs.

I close my eyes as I place the last bits of soil on top of my heart and then straighten, dropping the shovel. The cold air against my bare skin feels warm, and I turn without a heart since I’m leaving it here. I’m filled with determination, walking out of the cemetery. It’s all I have left.

There’s a small amount of sense left in my body, and I walk home, checking on my brothers first. Their window is closed and they’re both warm, laying in the same bed with their limbs out like starfish. I stroke their hair back, feeling the natural warmth from life against their foreheads and tell them to grieve while unconscious.

Leaving their rooms, I’m about to go back out when someone stumbles into the house, cursing. I thought Len was home, but his face is red, and he’s not drunk, just cold as I step out from the hallway. For the first time in my life, he looks at me with fear and his throat bobs as he straightens. His mouth opens and I cut him off, sounding like death.

“Count your fucking days, suka.”

My brothers are young, and they won’t survive on the street if I kill him now. They’ll be left with Anika or someone worse if I kill them both.

I brush past him and walk in the direction I came in only my shorts. There’s dirt on my skin and blood from my earlier fight, but I’m going to bathe in it by the time the day is over. They’ll all still be at the fight, drunk and fucking weak. Vulnerable. That’s what Vanya was, she was sick, and they took my focus. I keep walking. The four miles I ran to get home is warmer on the return and I don’t run.

I’ll never run again.

I’ll never beg again.

I’ll never feel happiness.

I will never fucking feel anything again.

Everything is over, and I never believed I was wrong. But I must be, only someone fucked up, a monster, would kill their own baby. All the care was a lie, I couldn’t really give her it because if I could, I wouldn’t have killed her.

I reach the venue without any memory of the journey and the door is open. I can hear them laugh. They’re laughing when I’ve lost my Vanya. There is no burn as I push through the door of the abandoned warehouse that has been taken over by the Bratva. Dmitri organized this fight, he specifically asked for me, and my head turns, looking for him. To get the biggest fucker on my list, the most feared man in the Bratva — the Pakhan — before I take the rest.

He’s nowhere in sight, neither is his fucking sister, but Denis is. His little brother, who he treats like a son, is sat laughing and drinking with a cigarette in his hand. He’s not his fucking kid. I buried my child, now he’ll bury the closest thing he has to one. I move in a blur, the images of Vanya’s blue face flickering under my eyelids as screams ring out. Gunshots are next. My hands are warmer, and I blink, breaking up the memories.

Denis’ face is unrecognizable. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from his cheek, and he punches me in the ribs. I smile. The pain helps and I fucking smile, but there’s no joy and I keep driving my fist into his face as he slips from his seat. I remain on top of him, my frozen hand splitting and already swelling. Swapping my fist for my elbow, I continue. Hands grab me, wrapping around my biceps and tugging as they scream.

It goes blank.

No pain.

No grief.

No regret.

I’ve found what makes it all stop.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Inessa

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