Page 33 of Vulnerate

I know we won’t ever find out where Vlad disappears to, and if Val will ever grow up. I hope he doesn’t. I hope you don’t either and maybe one day we’ll still be the same and it will be like nothing has changed.

I love you, all of you Vartanovs.

Dani.

I close it before I send it and sound like an even bigger fucking loser with nothing to say. I have to sit on my hands to avoid the temptation. It’s unfair that I’m left without my comfort when I didn’t do anything wrong. I’d do anything to have them back and I last two seconds before I grab my phone again and try to stalk them. Nothing comes up when I search their names online other than the usual social media sites. I haven’t logged into mine since the videos were posted of Zoe and Chelsea kicking the shit out of me. Somehow that was when life was good, I still had them with me.

I create a pseudonym account, unable to stop myself from following Val, but his profile is private. I never realized it before and keep refreshing hoping he accepts it. Going onto Tali’s profile, his is obviously open. He’s a cocky shit and there’s only one new photo. Him and Val with their arms hooked around each other. My smile is genuine seeing Val’s and my laugh comes out at Tali’s tongue poking out exaggeratedly. I can imagine them as it was taken.

Valentin would be pushing him away, saying he’s got crumbs on his hands, and Tali would stick his tongue out pretending to breathe on him. The caption gets my attention and I scroll through to work out what it could mean.

Who’s the daddy?

His comments are off which is weird as fuck because he’s an attention whore. Taking my stalking a step further, I check his tagged images. They’re inseparable so wherever Tali goes Val will be, at least in the background and I find him easily. He looks tired and he’s always checking his phone unless he’s aware of being in the shot. I’m a fool and get happy seeing no girls around him. My foolishness doesn’t end there. It fully invades my thoughts.

Is he waiting for a message from me? Or is there someone else?

TWELVE

Valentin

Quiet is a concept I don’t understand anymore. My son is four months old, and he hates me. I know he does because he knows this is the first time we’re alone all night and he’s decided to make it the most difficult moment of my life as he screams. He still scares the shit out of me, and his face is turning red as he continues crying. At least I know how to hold him now and I try to rest him on my shoulder. He usually calms down once he’s there, but his crying has taken hold of him, and he slams his face into my cheek.

I wince and cup his head to soothe any ache. My cheek has a dull thud pulsing underneath it so he must be hurt. I walk in circles like I’ve seen Vlad do when he looks after him at night.

“It’s okay, little man. I know I’m doing a really shit job, but I don’t know why you’re crying.” He doesn’t stop and I beg for a miracle. “Can you be one of them genius babies that knows how to talk? I won’t even tell anyone as long as I know what you want.”

Still crying.

Fuck! I’m messing him up and I’m still freaked out about having a kid. I’ll never get used to it, even when he’s fifty. Oh fuck, I won’t even be seventy years old when he’s an old man.

“Do you want me to cry with you? So, you’re not doing it on your own? I kinda feel like I’m going to even if you don’t want me to.”

His eyes are huge, and he loses energy to scream but the tears are still there, streaming down his face. The silent tears are worse, they’re killing me, and I’m dizzy from pacing, so I lower into the armchair and rub his back.

I’m going crazy and talk to him like he’s an adult.

“You haven’t pissed or shit, and you’re not hungry. Are you just sad? Scared? I’m shit scared too.”

He blinks up at me as I reposition him to lay in my arms. I use the back of my finger to wipe his tears away and he wraps his small fingers around mine to pull my hand closer to his mouth. His gums and spit slip against my palm while he tries to bite me. Yeah, he’s pissed at me, so I offer him a solution.

“Hey, do you want to piss on me again? Aim for my hand and don’t tell anyone.”

He keeps trying to bite me and I pick up his abandoned bottle from the warmer. He grabs it straight away and bites into the plastic teat, attempting to rip it out of my hand. He’s strong as fuck and the milk is stopped from leaving from the force of his gums clamping down.

“I don’t think you can have real food yet, little man. You don’t need to chew right now.”

He shakes his head, continuing to chew on it rather than drink.

I’m fucking up and there’s something wrong. I know there is and this kid, my kid, is definitely going to kill me one day because as soon as he starts crying again my vision blurs. Dropping the bottle so I have both hands free, I lift him to my shoulder and start pacing.

“Come on, I don’t know why you’re crying. Is it because you miss Vlad?”

He always sits with him, and I literally run with the idea as I leave the room. I don’t use the stairs and walk in circles while I wait for the elevator. I don’t stop when we get in and Viktor’s cries echo around the box of torment until we reach Vlad’s floor.

“Shh it’s okay,look I’m taking you to him now.”

The hallway is blurry as I step out and walk in the direction of Vlad’s office. Tears build, increasing the pressure in my skull as the cries shake through me. I hate his tears and pain. I haven’t had a long life, but I’ve never experienced this gut wrenching agony at the sight of tears. I love them, I work with them as my goal with everyone else, but my heart is going to fucking explode with every cry.

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