Page 49 of Destined for the Devil
"Drink it all and then right away, dumpling with sour cream.” He reminded me. I did as instructed, and indeed, it was different from anything else I’d ever tried. The taste and the feeling were both delicious and satisfying.
Like always, our conversation flowed easily, and I enjoyed his sense of humor at the dinner table. But then Roman asked. "Why is it that everything you cook tastes amazing? Where did you learn to cook like that?"
A shy smile showed up on my face, but I knew it wasn't true. He only thought that because he loved me.
The TV played some silly movie when we migrated to the couch, and I placed my head in his lap, the vodka and that intense sex session giving me a real buzz.
I lay there, staring into nothing, but a thought crawled its way into my head. I was going to do it; I was going to ask.
26
Little Sister
Roman
Falling.That'stheonlyway I could describe what was happening to me and inside me. Isla was an angel whose orbit I fell into, fast and hard, without any way to stop myself.
I was fuckingcrazyabout her.
Her body, her mind, her soul, her smile, her touch, her eyes, her whole aura…obliterated everything I knew to be right and wrong and overtook every millimeter of my existence.
At the same time, the truth tormented me—I was not good for her. I was a criminal. I was a killer, and Isla had no idea. Perhaps I could forever hide it from her. Perhaps I could give it all up in a few years, and she would never know. The thought of her leaving me sent real, genuine fear through my heart. I couldn't live without her.
She embodied the perfect dream. She waseverythingto me.
After Sergei threatened her, I was no longer on speaking terms with him. Our friendship was no more; everything between us was ruined, and Denis was stuck in the middle. But I didn't care. I only cared about her.
Isla was kind, loving, and gentle. I’d often wondered about the kind of upbringing she’d had—one without trauma. She treated me like I was a good person and spoke only kind words. She took care of me. She wanted to make sure that I was happy. Fuck. I'd never had any girlfriend do that for me. Every single one used me and treated me like a bank.
"Can I ask you something personal?" Isla asked after dinner while her head was on my lap. I had an inkling as to what she wanted to know. I never wanted to talk about it, but with her, I was ready to share anything. "What happened to your sister?"
There it was. Claudio talked about her today too—it was that kind of day. Isla must have guessed it was painful for me to speak about it and delayed asking for as long as she could. I intertwined my fingers with hers, grounding myself in all the good that I had in my life before answering, "She was raped and killed. Five years ago."
Isla sat up quickly, her worried gaze burrowing into mine. "I'm so, so sorry." Her pure heart and genuine empathy tugged at all the strings in my soul. "Was the guy who lived in that house...responsible?" she asked timidly.
"He was the one who did it, but he wasn't the one who ordered the job."
"I mean, I think burning his apartment down was pretty justifiable,” Isla said slowly and shrugged casually, surprising me with her words. "Who ordered the…job?"
And that was a great fucking question. After today’s conversation with Claudio, it all turned over in my mind without pause. Did I really fuck up? I pondered what to tell her but then decided I was ready to spill the details.
"After it happened, I, ugh…I was very depressed and didn’t act in time. For months, I stayed in bed.” Isla held my hand and nodded, her compassion allowing me to open up. “I was so tortured thinking about everything that happened to her that I let a lot of time go by before I began looking for the one responsible. Coincidentally, someone came to see me today and put everything that happened into question. I thought I got the one who was responsible, but they straight up told me I made a mistake."
Talking through it kind of felt like I was working onconnecting the dots, to use Claudio's words.
"What did they say?"
"He said that sometimes, the most obvious is in front of us, but we get so used to the landscape that we don't notice it. But he also said he had no evidence, so…" I trailed off, squeezing my eyes with my fingers. "What happened to your brother?" I wanted to switch the subject and also find out what she was willing to share.
"Don't you already know?" she replied, her tone playful and light, bringing a smile to both our faces. "Sounds like you somehow know everything, without even having to ask."
"Nah, I just know a few facts."
She sighed before starting the sad story. "He was diagnosed with stage four bone cancer, and he just...faded away. He was only three years older than me. It was too late to do anything, and treatments made him feel worse." She traced the inside of my palm, as if distracting herself. “And my parents died in a car accident…on the way to see him. And then he passed away two weeks later so…I know what it feels like to not be able to get out of bed."
Damn, Isla. She was only twenty-five, but it's like she’d lived three lives already. I settled her in my lap, her body melting into mine. “I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair.
There was nothing either one of us could say to each other. The tragedies lived inside us, coloring the world in a gray filter.
