Page 8 of Rhapsody of Pain

Oh, shit.I just said all of that, out loud, right in front of him. I’m so far removed from my own body, my own existence, that I can’t even tell the difference between a private thought and my voice.

He doesn’t say anything in response. Just glares at me.

And then he storms off.

“Don’t take it personally.” Bambi’s gentle voice comes up behind me, and she moves to rest a hand on my shoulder. But then she quickly pulls it back and settles for folding her arms around her slender waist. “He’s facing his own dark demons.”

I thought she left.

“I was going to.” Bambi sighs and delicately wipes the side of her nose. “But I feel like turning away from you is the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

Shit. I’m going to be struggling with unknowingly voicing my thoughts for awhile.

“Really, I just… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

What is with everyone and “okay”? I’m not “okay.” I will probably never be “okay.” If I have to hear that word over and over again, I might as well puncture my eardrums now.

Bambi sighs. “You know you’re safe here, right?”

I slowly turn my head to look at her. “Am I?”

She frowns. “Of course! We’ve been looking everywhere?—”

“Was that before or after you all just decided to sell me into sexual slavery?”

“That’s not fair.”

The laugh that suddenly bubbles from my chest has absolutely no humor or joy or anything remotely positive in it. “‘Fair’? You want to talk aboutfair?!” I fold my arms across my chest and face her head-on. “I think, after being promised so many wonderful things, after being given a home and a job and what Ithoughtwas love…” Again, my voice cracks, but damn it all, I’m going to get through at least this much. “—Only to have it all ripped from me forno fucking reason,no one who stood up for me, no one to stop Demyen from… from…”

Shit.I’m losing it. I’m shaking, I’m crying, and I am so. Fucking. Pissed.

“So no, you’re totally right. It’snotfair! It’s not ‘fair’ that I’m constantly accused of lying when I’m the only one here who’s ever actually told the fucking truth!”

I don’t wait for her response. It’s not worth the headache or heartache or all-over ache. I just want to be alone. I don’t even care if my old room by Willow’s is occupied by someone else now—I’ll kick them out if I have to.

When the door opens easily and I see it’s back to how I used to have it, down to the placement of my collected knickknacks on the bookshelves, I burst into sobs.

And then I start ripping my clothes off.

Because in reality, they’renot“my” clothes. They’re Oleg’s. I couldn’t escape his nightmare realm without being covered in his clothes and in his scent. Even now, as buttons fly and I tear the shirt off me, every movement pushes that same horrible musk into my nostrils and makes me wish I could burn it all in a blazing inferno.

Maybe I can. There’s a fireplace in the study. I could totally march across the compound, completely naked, and burn every last fiber of Oleg Zakrevsky to ash.

But that feels like too much effort. I’m struggling as it is to kick his stupid jeans off. When I do manage to untangle my limbs, I bunch up his clothing and throw it as far away from me as humanly possible. Which isn’t far, but at least it falls behind an end table.

Shower. I need a shower.

If I can’t burn him off me, I can fucking boil him.

Stumbling into the bathroom makes me grip the sink for balance. Which makes me stare at myself in the mirror for a very, very long time.

I did what I had to do.

I did what Ineededto do in order to survive.

I never gave in. I never gave up. I only did what was necessary to plan my escape.

I didn’t…

---