Page 31 of Voracious

“They found out it was your birthday, and they were waiting for you.”

I hate him. He told them to do things for me, now it’s all going to go to shit. My eyes sting and he blows out air through his nose, pulling me back to his chest. Why does he keep touching me? It’s not like the clients with his hands on my neck and my shoulders. But mine are by my sides.

Something wet touches my cheek and his arms tighten. Is he sweating on me? That’s fucking disgusting. I don’t want his sweaty body on me when it will remind me of what I did before the fights. The sounds and how they’d always squash my face. Twisting my shoulders to get the feeling to go doesn’t work. Ihate that feeling and I sink inside of my body, trying to get away from my skin.

I feel dirty again. I shouldn’t. It was my choice, and I knew what I was doing. But that dirty feeling doesn’t go. Lips touch my temple, and I relax, knowing what he wants. It all makes sense, he’s not really nice. It’s just so he feels better, less transactional. I’m not going to fuck him but now I know I can deal with it.

He lets me go without having to push him off me and I walk away. I’ll need my book and sticker, but I can get them after he’s calmed down. He didn’t throw them away last time, so they’ll be safe. I don’t go back inside the house, I walk around the edge of the property as I hum my song in my head. The guards all look at me and I keep humming as they sneer in my direction. I’m forced to stop when I reach the gate and one of the guards touches his groin as he opens it for me, dirty fuck. There’s nothing he can do or say that I haven’t seen before. They’re not scary, just pathetic people thinking they’re tough because they have a gun. It’s hard to be scared when I grew up around true evil.

Footsteps thud against the ground and there’s a crack making me turn around. Dima’s chest heaves and his knuckles are red with the groin-grabbing guard laying at his feet. Extending his voice, he looks at everyone other than me while giving his order.

“One of you cunts open your mouth again, I’ll take you apart. Ponyal?”1 Taking his gun from his waistband, he cocks it then fires a shot into the guard’s head as he repeats, “Ponyal!”

All of them murmur, frightened little fucking idiots.

It’s funny. They can’t look at Dima when all he did was punch someone. He used a gun to kill him so that doesn’t count, even a child can shoot someone. I’m bored when nothing else happens and continue on my walk and restart my song. The middle bit ismy favorite and I slow my humming to savor the vibration of it tickling my throat.

Fingers wrap around my bicep, and I react on instinct. My fist connects with his Adam’s apple, causing him to choke and cough, but he doesn’t curse at me and drops his hold as he rubs his throat.

“Where are you going?”

It comes out in a croak, and I bite my cheek, so I don’t laugh in his face. His lips move up again, smiling when he should be angry.

Dima dips his head to catch my eyes as he steps to the side, covering the guards from being in my view and softens his voice.

“Are your eyes hurting?”

I should have punched him harder; I would have if I knew it was him. Crossing my arms, I turn smug, working out what he thinks I’m too dumb too.

“It won’t work.”

The clients couldn’t get past me when I was younger, he definitely won’t now.

“I know that you’re only being nice, so I do something fucked up. The nicer you are, the more likely you think I am to do it.”

Disgust washes over him before I’ve even finished speaking and he clenches his fists. I want him to punch me, if he does I can fight back. Mind games and manipulation are worse, they embed themselves into the filing cabinet and then I’ll always go back to them in an attempt to work out where I went wrong. It was the same with Yulia and her tricks. She’d change the year that I got given to her so I never knew how old I was. I’d go to my room as a nine year old and come out being twelve. Some days I’d be younger and then some she wouldn’t say anything, and I’d just be confused. If I can’t trust my mind, I can trust my body.

The disgust sticks to his voice but it’s not real.

“Don’t ever fucking compare me to the cunts you were around growing up.”

He’s doing the same things as them. Being nice, smiling with a secret thought, and pretending to help me. I’m not going to argue with him, I know I’m right. Patterns always reveal themselves and only hopeful idiots expect a different outcome.

I only manage to turn my shoulders when he grabs me again. Fuck this. I know who it is now and don’t hold back. He takes a defensive stance as I knee him in the stomach, the asshole. He’s still doing it. Pretending to be fucking nice and that it won’t hurt. That hurts more. Holding on to the back of his head with both hands, I push my foot into his thigh and bring my knee up to get him in the nose.

The stupid tall bastard makes it harder and tries to shake me off. He lightly jabs my ribs to dislodge me as I knock my elbow into the side of his face. I’ve seen him fight, so I know he’d be a good opponent. Right now, he’s weak as fuck, refusing to use his full strength. His lies make it worse, just like the others who try and hide their deviancy.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Shut the fuck up! Promises are bullshit. Gardeners use manure to fertilize their flowers, liars use bullshit to fertilize their lies.

My brain rattles from the force of hitting his jaw as I throw my head forward to get him to stop. It makes me loosen my hold and my foot lands against his inner thigh. We both go down but I’m fighting to survive. Not physically. Mentally. I can’t take people’s games.Not again, because if I stop knowing things it will all crumble and I’ll forget how to talk again.

Trying to push him on to his back doesn’t work and he straddles my thighs, pushing his knees into my hips and grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head. No. This is worse. I’velost control. I can’t lose control.I have to know things and have my body. But he’s taking it all from me.

My eyes close and I’m not me. I open them as Ana, staring at nothing while B hides deep in the forest. No one gets my pain because I’m not here. Rough fingers gently stroke my cheek and I flinch as warmth brushes the other.

“Come back to me, lisichka, I won’t hurt you.”

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