Page 57 of Voracious

His voice is so low it barely reaches my ears. Shrugging to myself, I go back to hosing everything down and speak my thoughts out loud.

“If you tell someone you love them only because you’re dying that’s being a coward and selfish, they missed out on hearing it all the other times and they never knew anyone loved them.”

People’s last words have no meaning. I’ve heard them cry, beg, apologize, everything they can think of, it’s always selfish, a way to make themselves feel better. Not actually do better. I’m not going to die like that, I’m going to die laughing because it means I’m real, you have to be a person to be able to die.

TWENTY-THREE

Ana

Ican’t take my eyes off the forest we’re passing, all the trees are thickly packed, and the sky is just lightening, waiting for dawn. My contacts don’t dull how amazing it is.

A hand lands on my forearm as I push my head out of the window searching for the moon. It’s not heavy, Dima is gentle as he holds my arm in case I fall out, he looks like a distinguished gentleman in his suit without the tattoos showing. The ones on his hands are coming into view with the gloves having rubbed the makeup away.

He strokes down my arm, loosely circling my wrist and I pull my head in seeing him take a turn that’s not planned. We’re going through a cut into the forest, the trees are so close I could put my hand out of the window to touch them. In my head this is where B is, she’s away from people and no one can ever find her. Especially Yulia.

The first rays poke through the branches and it’s peaceful hearing the birds sing. There must be hundreds of them all living at the top of the trees, no cages, or locked doors to keep them from flying away. His hand tightens as I twist my body so my neck is resting on the door so I can look up. The sky has alwaysbeen the only thing that kept me company, a little window to other worlds and possibilities. Yulia could lock me away, but she couldn’t take that from me.

I get comfortable on the seat as I fold my legs so my feet are touching my ass and my body isn’t contorted. He lets go of my wrist and holds my ankles, pulling them over the center console so they’re resting on his thighs. The sound of fabric rustling doesn’t distract me from the freeing feeling, yet he always has to interrupt me and taps my knee.

“Put this under your neck.”

Looking across the car at his voice, he holds his jacket out to me. It’s rolled up into a soft log and I do what he says so I don’t have any more distractions.

Every time I kill someone I get peace, my mind goes blank, and the filing cabinets don’t open, I wonder if it’s the Grim Reaper keeping them shut. The filing cabinets being closed means I have thoughts of what if or none at all. The what ifs are only a whisper and it’s the same one as always.

I’m already dead so the world has forgotten about me. I’m a ghost, an unclaimed soul, but it gets fainter as soothing circles are made against my ankle. I don’t want to go blank and talk, hoping it brings out a conversation in my head.

“Is it bad if I don’t feel guilty about killing people?”

I don’t care about their lives, if you rape and molest children you shouldn’t be classed as a person. No, it isn’t bad.The same thought that was in my head is mimicked in Dima’s voice.

“No, you’re stopping them from doing worse.”

He pulls over when we can’t drive any further and holds my ankles. I want to tell him about B, so someone knows she exists other than me. Blindly reaching into the front pocket of my bag, I pull out the torn blanket, it’s not big enough to cover anything but it’s the only thing I have to prove she was real.

I can’t give it to him and hold it in my hand under the seat as I whisper up to the sky. “I think my mother named me.”

No one called me by a name when I was at Yulia’s until a client asked. I don’t know who said Ana, but I stuck with it knowing B was dead. If Marlo is my dad then the B can’t stand for Belov, it’s my name.

His volume matches mine and he turns to face me.

“What’s your real name, lisichka?”

I shrug and sigh, wishing I knew. I don’t know where I was born or what nationality my mother is, it could be anything, but I answer with the only letter I have.

“B?”

Pushing all those thoughts away, I sit up and put the torn blanket back in my bag. I want to go outside and sit in the middle of the trees.

I only make it to the front of the car before Dima follows me. Picking me up by the back of my thighs, he stares straight ahead, and his voice goes back to its usual roughness.

“I don’t want you to fall.”

There are only twigs and leaves on the floor, some thick roots are sticking up but not enough to do any damage. Idiot. I don’t tell him that and hold his shoulders so I can lean back and float like a bird. He slows his steps and supports my weight with one arm under my back, his other hand cupping the back of my head, as we go deeper through the trees.

Reaching a clearing with a picnic bench, he lays me against the wood and leans over me. I’ve never seen eyes so soft as Dima slowly comes into view, he holds my chin between the knuckles of his first two fingers as he traces my features. I feel safe with him, he said he won’t hurt me, and I believe him.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he breathes out as he moves up my face and presses his lips to my forehead.

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