Page 139 of Voracious

His anger comes back as he finally answers my original question.

“The woman who gave birth to you isn’t your mother, she never was and never will be.”

He said woman. And my heart sinks as I do the math — he was only twelve and I can’t pick my head up.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

My life is a reminder of something bad. Marlo knew and it’s why he always said I was wrong, that I shouldn’t have been allowed to be born.One parent is the nonce I enjoy killing, the other is the child I try to save. While I was raised to be the intermediary introducing the two.

I’m staring at the floor, hoping it swallows me when my chair is turned and Vlad squats in front of me to catch my eyes.

“Don’t apologize, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” Speaking softly, he adds, “I’ve loved you from the second you existed, solnyshkuh.”

I feel bad about not liking him now, he’s still an asshole but this version of him is nice.He continues speaking softly as though he’s afraid I’m going to run away.

“Stay here, I want to show you something.”

I don’t move and continue staring at the floor. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, I technically have parents, but I don’t want them, and I don’t really need them, but it could have been nice to grow up with Val and Tali, I liked being around them when they thought I was their sister.

Something beeps at my side, I turn to see Vlad open his safe hidden under a panel in the floor and ask, “Should you be letting me see where you hide things?”

He turns, smiling. “It’s all yours anyway.”

He’s weird as fuck, pulling a very pink dress out of the floor safe and holds it like it’s gold. It’s an old design with frilly shit on it and I take it hesitantly.

“Why are you giving me Verena’s old clothes?”

It’s too small to fit her now and he takes the seat opposite me, holding an envelope on his thighs. He straightens his cufflinks before speaking and making no sense.

“It’s your birthday present.”

I hand it back to him and let him know he’s a freak.

“Yeah well, I don’t think it’s going to fit. You should let Inessa buy clothes for people because you’re really shit at it.”

He takes it from me and lays it flat on the desk as he talks to it. “No, I got it for your birthday, your first birthday.” He lowers his voice to below a whisper and admits, “I never got to give it to you.”

Oh, that’s sad. I’ve never had a birthday present before and I look at the dress, trying to imagine if a baby would like it as he keeps talking to himself, showing crazy is inherited.

“I kept everything of yours.”

He stops talking to the dress and just stares at me like a freak. I was right that there are two people living inside of me and I try to meld the gaps between the life he knew of and who I am now as I ask, “So, you know what I was like as a baby?”

It sounds dumb but he just smiles softly and nods. “Yeah, I’ll never forget. You were happy and so fucking strong. You’d pull Valya’s hair, but all three of you were like best friends and you’d play together. Vitya would teach you to kick and every time you’d cry, he’d hug you. They both did, but he was closer to your age, so you’d have naps together. You were seven months old when you tried to walk for the first time, but you didn’t crawl. They both held your hands, so you didn’t fall over and helped you stay on your feet. You took your first steps without anyone else when you were just under nine months, and then you crawled after that.”

His eyes do that weird thing where they get more reflective, hiding the color and he clears his throat when he finishes speaking.

“Did I look like Verena?”

He slowly shakes his head and clears his throat again.

“A little, you both have dark hair, but you had more. It would always stick up because you had to have your hat on, or you’d start fussing. Your eyes are different too. She’s naturally grumpy, and you were always giggling or smiling. You like bayu bayushki and you’d always laugh when I hummed it.”

He starts humming the song I made up and looks down, remembering the envelope in his hands. There’s a lump in his throat as he slowly passes it to me. “This is yours too.”

The paper is aged and yellow, there aren’t any creases in it like it’s been protected. I don’t know what I expect to be inside, but it isn’t raven locks of hair. Fucking freak. Who gives someone hair?

My voice comes out small and weak as I grimace. “Why are you giving me your crime-scene evidence?”

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