Page 32 of Volatile

“I don’t hate them, we’re just different people.”

She’s a brilliant actress, so fucking talented that I didn’t realize that it’s all fake until last night. She hates the socialite lifestyle, the parties and false pretense and her home is the opposite of the other people in those circles. It’s not curated to reflect an image but pieces she wants. It all adds more questions, and she stops them as she turns mine back on me.

“Why do you hate yours?”

It’s an unwritten rule not to talk about Anika and Len, even more so after the shit the cunts orchestrated with Vanya’s life, but I settle into the seat and don’t censor myself.

“Many reasons. They’d fuck in front of us, force Val to beat the shit out of me or me to do it to him. If I refused, I’d get a beating and they’d set up a fight further away so Vlad was out of the house and we wouldn’t be allowed to eat.”

If it was both of us starving then there was solidarity, but the fuckers loved pitting us against each other and would force the other to stand and watch as they ate. I hated those days, I hated Val for going along with it and eating when I had to stand there but we were four, five years old, we couldn’t do shit. Day fights were the worst, they were set up to last hours and Anika knew as long as she didn’t leave a mark there’d be no repercussions.I wasn’t like Val who would throw a tantrum when Vlad came home, and he was too young to even explain it correctly so Vlad would just hold him until he calmed down while I pushed my fist into my stomach so I could trick myself into thinking it was full.

My honesty pulls out some of her own and we form a support group for the kids of fucked up parents.

“I caught my mom fucking Borya while my dad was alive, he was going to divorce her and take me with him that night but?—”

She cuts herself off and I fill in the gap.

But he died, leaving her with the bitch.

“Want me to kill them?” I ask.

Her smile comes back. It’s not an empty offer or a token gesture, I’d deal with whatever shit came my way if it meant Stasi didn’t tense when her phone rang.I’d do anything she wants if it made her life a fraction easier, but I’m stopped from telling her that as our food comes out and she makes a point of ignoring it.

“I’ve got the phone on me. We’ll go through it together.”

She nods and shifts uncomfortably on the seat as I put our food on her lap, hoping she starts eating it. It’s normal to steal fries, but she acts like it’s not there and doesn’t look anywhere other than out the window as I drive to her apartment.

I need to find a new tactic to get inside her head faster. The more she lets me see little snippets, the deeper she pulls me in and it’s no different now. She doesn’t run away when I pull up at her building for once. She actually waits for me and I take the bag she’s ignoring before I open her door. She doesn’t push me away as I wrap my arm around her and hold her hip. The silence is broken when we enter the elevator, and she looks at my other hand, fighting a smile before looking at me.

“Which one are you protecting?”

I don’t answer as I press my lips to her temple. The truth would just confuse us both because if I had to starve for her, I would. I remain attached to her as we enter her apartment and give her the phone. She becomes a different person, more determined and she kisses my cheek before pulling her shoes off and padding into her creepy hacking room. I’m not an idiot and follow after her as she works. She ignores the food as I stretch out next to her and place the bag in front of us. The hum of her computer working fills the air around the erratic tapping of keys with her scanning each line.

There’s fuck all in her cupboards and I stroke my hand down her spine as if it’s a gauge for health. She’s not a rake but it can’t be healthy to limit yourself this much. Once the program is running and she doesn’t need to keep tapping on the keys I pull her to my side and set her laptop down.

“I have a theory.” Her head turns at my voice, and I try to avoid the real one as I slide a lie around it on my tongue. “You’re a messy eater and you don’t want me to see you with sauce and grease all over your face.”

Dirty thoughts flash through her dark eyes but she doesn’t voice any of them as she turns her head at the sound of a ping. I’m surprised there’s no audible crack from how fast she moves. Following her direction, anger burns inside of me, and I grab the keyboard from her hands, throwing it on the other side of the room.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

My voice is deadly, but she switches the monitors using her laptop and fucking ignores me. The message thread must go on for miles if the sick cunt is telling her his fucking fantasies and bile rises in my throat, seeing the main feed at the side.

I quickly push myself up to stand, so I don’t throw up on her and make it to the bathroom in time to empty my stomach. No wonder she doesn’t eat, looking at sick fucking shit in detail wouldn’t allow anything to stay down. People recording themselves masturbating to their own fucking kids, vivid details of what they’ll do, and proof loaded like it’s a trophy. My stomach churns as I expel everything out of my system. I’ve tortured people, watched my brothers give out the most horrific deaths, and heard screams of people burning alive, but that shit is tame in comparison.

Soft footsteps pad closer until Stasi kneels beside me, rubbing circles on my back. Her voice is softer, and she doesn’t move as she whispers, “I forgot about the side panel. My mind has started to block it out now.”

The apology in her tone isn’t enough, she shouldn’t be fucking near it. I want her protected and I’d prefer the coke head was real over knowing she’s always going to throw herself towards danger. My knees are both weak for a different reason that medication won’t be able to solve as I stand and wash my mouth out.

Throwing ice-cold water in my face in the hope I wake up in an ignorant body doesn’t do shit. Every time I blink, I can see the images and closing my eyes has them on a continuous reel; I can’t even think about my family, those kids are the same fucking age as my niece and nephews. Arms wrap around me so tight they force me to breathe, and Stasi just holds me. Her crown is under my chin, and she must feel the way my heart is hammering under her ear. But she doesn’t move, and I hold her tighter. I’ve found out there’s something I’m afraid of and I can’t laugh it away which is terrifying.

I can kill them all and it will fix the problem; it’s not a disease that can be treated, and they’re not human in any sense of the word.

I hold the back of her head, so she can’t move away from me, and walk us to her little cave of depravity. It all makes sense now: how cold the room feels and there being nothing for comfort. No furniture or even a chair, it’s stark because no one should want to sit here. I lower us to the floor and sit her between my thighs, needing to hold on to humanity. She presses her lips to my cheek and gently holds my wrists then pulls my arms around her. Once she’s happy with our positions, she presses a button that hides the main feed while she goes back to her chat with some sick cunt.

I rest my chin on her shoulder, squeezing her harder as though I can take her away from it and I try to find anything to identify the prick.

“How old do they think you are?”

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