Page 9 of Thorns of Lust
This felt like drowning amongst the living.
Fourteen days since the accident. My brothers had questions too, and I had no answers for them. No idea how I got there. No idea how I survived the explosion that left no trace of him. It left me with nothing - no memory, no clues. Nothing.
Nothing felt real anymore.
Not the casket. Not the thorned roses wrapped around it. Not the people who stood surrounding the gravesite.
“We should go,” Sasha murmured. The rites were read, the final blessings given, final goodbyes said. From all except me. I stood still, staring at the eternal resting place covered in flowers. “You need to rest.”
Except, nightmares and voices came when I slept. Whispers. Ghosts.
I swallowed, watching the coffin disappear into the tomb until I could no longer see it. My hands shook. My temples throbbed. But it was nothing compared to the clenching of my heart. The suffocating pain, dragging me deeper and deeper into a dark abyss.
The lump in my throat grew bigger until it was impossible to breathe. Until I felt nothing. Just a numbness, which spread through my veins. The silence grew heavy, but I accepted it. It was better than those whispers I heard in my dreams. Tormenting me.
The cool breeze swept through the graveyard, soaking the rain into my dress, which clung to my legs. I felt like I was suffocating. There wasn’t enough space. There wasn’t enough oxygen.
There wasn’t enough room for the living and the dead.
A shuddering breath left me as fear rolled down my spine. I had never been scared, knowing my brothers would always be there to save me. But now I feared these demons were unbeatable. And the secrets Adrian left behind were punishable.
“Tatiana, let’s go,” Sasha repeated. Another shuddering breath filled my lungs.
Black suits slowly drifted away, taking their black hearts with them. The sea of underworld men came to pay respects. Russian. Italian. American. Canadian. Colombian. A sea of black, which I’d always been a part of. No matter how much my brothers sheltered me.
My eyes flickered to my brother, seeing him through the fog of grief. It felt like I wasn’t really here. But then I was.
“We have to go home, Sister,” Sasha said softly. I didn’t want to go back home. I didn’t want to be alone. Yet, I felt so fucking alone no matter where I was or who I was with. Except for the damn ghosts haunting me. They were in my mind, thriving. Torturing me. And when I slept, my mind revolted. I couldn’t understand my dreams… memories… or paranoia. “You’ll stay with me.”
I shook my head wordlessly. I couldn’t let anyone hear my dreams. I couldn’t let anyone know.
My mind immediately revolted, remembering last night’s dream.
I smiled so much that my cheeks ached. But it was a good feeling.
“Look, Adrian. Our baby,” I beamed, glancing up from the hospital bed to find my husband’s eyes. Except, displeasure stared back at me. Instinctively, I shifted my body, shielding the baby.
“Adrian?” I asked, hesitantly. “What’s the matter?”
“I told you,” he hissed as he took a step forward. Then another. And a dark, looming shadow clouded over me, stealing my happiness. “I told you, Tatiana. No children.”
“But it’s a blessing,” I rasped, my voice hoarse with emotions.
“No, it’s a curse,” he bellowed. “A poisonous thorn.”
His face twisted. I didn’t recognize him. His hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing. Harder and harsher. My lungs seized.
“P-P-Please.” My body shook. I held my baby, but I could feel my strength leaving me. I didn’t want to drop my newborn miracle. Shoving my elbow against my husband’s ribs, I fought. I was a Nikolaev. We fight. We never give up.
Then Adrian’s big hand wrapped around my baby’s throat and terror, unlike any I’d ever felt before, shot through me.
But before he could take one squeeze.
Bang.
Dead eyes.
“Tatiana.”
