Page 101 of Voracious

“Keep walking, lisichka, she’s here.”Dima’s voice is softer.

“We’re here, pipsqueak, she’s not going anywhere.”

“Tell us and we’ll come in.”

“Bring her home, little sister.”

The chorus keeps going round and round while I feel like I’ve frozen in place for an eternity. There’s a countdown showing it’s been less than a minute, but my mind is slowing everything down and speeding the voices up.

I can do this, I’m Ana now. Not B, I know things and I can fight.

I give a silent apology for hurting her all the times in the past and promise this will be the last time as I force one foot in front of the other. A tremor takes over my hand as I take the step up to the platform and I grab Nina’s hair, pulling her head back. She still smiles, fucking brat. All she had to do was listen to me.

I hide my whisper as I twist her head back and lean into her ear. “I told you not to smile.”

As though a switch goes off in her head, she allows herself to come out of her mental hiding place and sobs. It fractures her smile and her entire body shakes as she stares at me. Her voice is still childlike as she says, “Ana?”

It’s so quiet her lips barely move, and she falls to her knees from…relief?

Squatting down with her, I wrap my fingers around the blade and pretend to dig it into her side. The pain of it slicing through my skin is nothing compared to her begging me.

“Please kill me.”

She grabs me, not to push me away but to pull me closer. Tears mark her cheeks, and she sobs harder, still begging.

“Please, I can’t anymore.”

They can all hear through the earpiece. But no one says anything. I don’t even think they’re breathing.

I can’t kill her. I’ve hurt her too much. If I do it, I’ll never be able to fix anything. But Nina doesn’t care, and I push my body into hers, offering some distorted embrace as she digs her fingers into my arm and fucks with my head.

“You were always nice to me, be nice again. Stop this.”

I wasn’t nice to her. I hurt her.

“Let me have death.”

I can’t breathe.

“Please, Ana, I didn’t tell anyone about your sticker.”

No. It’s mine. No one ever saw it.

I think.

Her nails are drawing blood, and the knife does the same, covering my hand in the sticky red as she makes another plea.

“You killed Langston for me, now do this. Help me.”

She keeps saying things.

“You’d steal cookies and brush my hair when you thought I was asleep.”

“Fuck,”curses crackle in my ears.

Why won’t she shut up?

“She can’t do it,”another crackle.

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