Page 20 of Volatile

The corners of her lips twitch as though she wants to smile but her eyes are the saddest thing I’ve ever seen as she whispers, “Some of us don’t have an Uncle Tali.”

“I can’t be your uncle, but you can call me daddy if it will make you feel better?”

Her arm moves in my periphery, and I don’t block the pillow slamming into the side of my face as she rolls her eyes.

“I’d never call anyone that,” she says and looks away from me.

Because she called her dad it, never papa.

Fuck, I’m losing her so I massage her thighs, and keep my tone even, not betraying my own emotions as I change the topic to prevent her retreating.

“When do you need me for the wedding, sweetness?”

Without answering me, she sighs and slides away. Like a ghost, Stasi floats away whenever I try to be here for her. She doesn’t turn as she straightens her shoulders and walks out of my room, and she doesn’t slam the door because that would be too much emotion for her cold-bitch personality to show. She has commitment issues for her commitment issues, someone put shit in her head telling her she’s unworthy.

I slide my hand under the mattress, taking my life preservers before getting up.Ever since I found some kid on a bridge I’ve been going back there in case she does the same. I’m not a savior or a good Samaritan, but for one night, her loneliness kept mine company and its selfishness that has me leaving the house once my pills have kicked in.

Vanya is waiting for Dima by the front door with the trio of terror at her feet. She looks down at them and laughs, “You’ve put your shoes on the wrong feet, poop machine.”

Vasy stares up at his sister then looks at his feet, shaking his head. “No. Mama do this.”

I drop to my haunches and correct his shoes while she just laughs at him. I spent my life with this deep instinct that I had a little sister, I couldn’t shake it, and now I know it’s due to my niece not being with us. But I like fucking with her and slowly bring my brows together as I look behind me to sell my bullshit as I force Vasy’s shoe onto his foot.

“Didn’t you go to the warehouse with your dad and Dima?”

Her face darkens and she’s learnt to check the facts as she storms to the office to make sure Vlad hasn’t killed Dima for the simple fact of being in love with his daughter. There’s no cursing as I ask my nephew, “You know you’re dressed like an idiot?”

He scowls at me. “Am not.” Then pats his orange furry legs. “Mama got me.”

“Yeah, and your mama has bad taste. It’s why she’s married to your ugly papa,” I whisper as Vanya leaves the office to collect the little shits.

My nephew laughs and Dom joins in when I talk shit about his dad. “Your dad’s ugly too.”

“Nooooo, he hug monster,” Dom states.

There’s another pair of footsteps with her and Dima grumbles, “Are you arguing with toddlers?”

Straightening up once their shoes are on properly, I keep my tone light and say, “I’m just being truthful. Don’t disturb me next time and I’ll tell Adrik about you too.”

I leave and drive towards the bridge where I saw the girl without a care for breaching territory. She never leaves my mind; I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw her again but there’s always this thought in the back of my head of her. I don’t even know what she looks like with how bruised her face was, and being high didn’t help. Causing death and seeing someone willing to do it to themselves is different, one is an impulse the other is forced and I continue my routine of hoping she’s there again.

I don’t get out of the car when I reach the bridge, I never do. I must have watched the figure debating between life and death for over an hour before I got sick of watching and spoke. She could be dead. She could have left that night with her face beat to fuck, her hood pulled over her head, and went to wherever she lived to end it there.Yet I still keep coming here every night in case she didn’t, and she tries to do it again. Maybe I’ll stop her, maybe I’ll get to know her, or maybe I’m too late.

SIX

Anastasia

My phone doesn’t stop vibrating. I could sell it as a sex toy with how much it’s dancing across the wooden floor as I work. Frustration rises in me with constantly having my attention pulled towards it and I grab it with the intention of turning it off. But my fingers unlock the device and open the one thread that’s marked as do not open.

It’s self-punishment reading them and a reminder of why I need to be alone. The longer the thread goes on the more the sinking increases and I’m more at peace searching for pedophiles to kill than having a conversation with my own mother.

The messages slowly get worse as they change from tasks she wants me to complete to rewriting my DNA. I can’t escape her taunts or her need to prove I’m less. Vitali’s advice of killing the part of me I hated isn’t enough because it will always be there in the back of my mind. The old Stasya still exists with her stupid hope and naïve wants for the future while my mother is there to beat her down every chance she gets.

Mother

Have you managed to drop the last few pounds?

I’ll have to get your outfit altered now

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