Page 44 of The Crimson Lily
I keep my eyes locked shut. I need to stay in this dream, the dream that he is with me and holding me.
I sink back into the darkness of a restless slumber.
The ring of a bell, a few shouts, then Béatrice’s fury unleashes. That sequence of loud noise makes me open my eyes. It’s dark outside.
“You’re back,” I hear her spit at Maksim. It’s not a remark; it’s an accusation.
“How dare you, after what you’ve done? How dare you come back? The way you treated her—it’s not okay! You almost raped her!”
No, Béatrice, that’s not how it went.
“You stood up as if nothing ever happened and ran away like the coward you are. Why are you back?”
I stagger out of bed and rush downstairs. I need to stop these two before they start throwing fists. And I don’t want to know how that fight would end.
“It’s my house,” I hear him say in an evident tone, stern and unmoved.
I make it to the living room, where they’ve been arguing for about fifteen minutes. They both look at me, but the anger doesn’t leave Béatrice’s brown eyes, which have turned red.Maksim simply holds a glass of whiskey in his hand with an undefined shade in his glare.
She sends an army of words and insults at him. It starts with a “You obviously don’t live here, asshole,” then a “It’s your fucking parents’ house!” comes, and she finishes with “What happened to your parents? Did you kill them?”
As she speaks, I stand there like a child who’s done something bad, arms crossed and feeling numb. I don’t know where to hide myself. I try to catch Béatrice’s attention and tell her that everything’s fine. I try to search for Maksim’s eyes, for a reaction, but he only holds his whiskey.
After Béatrice is done, the vile shadow of a smirk is drawn upon his face. He looks her in the eyes and snarls.
“She asked for it,” he says, peering at me next.
Béatrice follows his glare, turning her face to me. She takes that deep breath again and exhales a torrent of wrath.
“I’m done,” she casts. “Liliana, pack your suitcase. You’re coming with me.”
Maksim immediately rises to his feet.
“She’s not leaving,” he barks defensively.
Béatrice raises her head as a firm warning not to come any closer. “You let her leave, or I call the police. And I bet they’d love to hear about how you killed those two men in the Opera.”
Maksim chuckles—a reaction she did not expect. Béatrice is about to go for his jaw with a furious fist when I step in her way. I hold my hands open in front of me as a plea for her to calm down.
“It’s okay!” I promise. “I’m packing my things, and I’m coming with you.”
Yeah, I’m done here too.
Béatrice scowls at Maksim, victorious. I turn to face him, my eyes puffed with the dread I feel at the idea of leaving him.
He says the one thing I absolutely did not expect.
“Don’t you have questions you want answered first?” he asks.
I frown. “What?”
Béatrice frowns too. Maksim paces away from us and marches into the hallway, where he opens the door in the staircase’s wall. He motions for us to take the stairway down to a basement I haven’t yet explored.
I am completely confused. I don’t know what to do. I want to follow him, to understand what he meant by having questions answered. Béatrice is more fearless than I am. She already took a few steps down the stairs, and I go after her. Maksim follows me. I can feel his breath behind me as I saunter down to the dimly lit room drowned in a thick and damp breeze.
The walls are gray. There are a few shelves with boxes that look older than me. But what makes Béatrice gasp and me freeze is the sight of a man underneath the flickering lightbulb, tied to a chair, beaten and bruised. The man looks up to us, and I instantly recognize him.
It’s Mr. Zhang.
