by Monica James
Alek pulls out the seat beside him, hinting I’m to sit near him. With no other choice, I walk toward him and nod in gratitude. Before I have a chance to sit, he grips my bicep, stirring a panic within. I wait for him to speak, but he simply eats me up from head to toe.
“You look stunning. I usually don’t like women with short hair, but if possible, you look even more beautiful. The blue to your eyes will be the death of me.” He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. His lips linger for a little too long, but thankfully, he lets me go when a maid enters with more food.
I take this opportunity to sit and subtly shift the seat away from him an inch.
On instinct, I scan the room, looking for an out. Apart from the doorway I entered through and a side door which seems to connect to the kitchen, I’m trapped. Alek pours me a glass of red wine from a crystal decanter.
“Let’s make a toast.” He raises his own glass, gesturing I’m to do the same. “To new beginnings.”
My grip on the glass tightens because I have no idea what that means. Nonetheless, I clink my glass against his and sip the sweet wine. Alek downs his in one gulp while I nurse mine because the liquor turns my already queasy stomach.
He appears awfully animated tonight, like he’s bursting at the seams to tell me something. An excited boy, bouncing in his seat has replaced his usual calm state. I have no idea why that is.
A convoy of servants brings in more food before they begin to serve us. Alek points at what he wants while I merely allow them to choose for me from the selection of cooked fish, sausage, some sort of crumbed frittata, salad, and what looks to be homemade bread.
I don’t mean to be unappreciative because it all looks delicious, but I don’t want to share a meal with his man. But looking down at my mountain of food, I know this isn’t optional.
“Try the fish,” Alek says around a mouthful of food. “It’s simply delicious.”
Picking up my knife and fork, I envision stabbing both utensils into his eyeballs. The vision pleases me more than I care to admit. But it will have to remain a daydream for now. I cut off a piece of the tender fish and try my best to swallow it down. Even though it does taste wonderful, I can’t do this without wanting to be sick.
“So how do you like it here? Is your room comfortable?”
I pause from chewing, wondering if I heard him right. When he tears his bread roll in half and mops up some juice off his plate, I know that I did. He expects us to converse over dinner like we’re friends.
Once I’ve swallowed my mouthful of food, I reach for the wine. “Yes, it’s very comfortable. I would love to see the gardens one day.” I need to familiarize myself with every corner of this place.
Alek chews his food, nodding. “Of course. But baby steps,” he says with a condescending smile. “I can imagine you’re an outdoorsy kind of girl. Growing up in Texas and all.”
I keep my cool as I place my glass onto the table. How did he know where I grew up? I don’t recall ever mentioning it to him. “Yes. I love the outdoors.”
He nods, continuing to eat his meal. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve done my research on you. You told me your father was a religious man. Are you still religious?”
The cross at my neck burns under his scrutiny. “Not really. How can I be?” I instantly seal my lips shut because I’ve spoken out of line. But Alek has mistaken my response for something else.
“Is that because of your father’s passing?”
The blood drains from my face. How does he know so much about me?
I mentioned my father was a Baptist minister, but I never shared with Alek that he had died. For all he knows, he could have left the church and joined the circus. He knows an awful lot about me, and I don’t like it.
He places his silverware against the rim of his plate, waiting for me to reply.
Swallowing, I nod slowly. “Yes. My father was a wonderful man. He didn’t deserve to die so young.”
I have no idea why I’m sharing anything sentimental with this monster. He wouldn’t understand.
“Dying is a part of living,” he says, cementing my thoughts. But what he says next surprises me. “My father also died young.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was genuinely upset over the fact.
“So, you see, I can relate to your loss. My father was a wonderful man too. I was young when he died. Ten.”
We are nothing alike.
I have no idea why he’s sharing this with me, but I can’t help but feel there is a reason.
“My mother was a weakling. A pathetic excuse of a woman,” he spits, not hiding his disgust. “She was too busy spending my father’s money to look after her children.”
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m utterly fascinated by his story because there is a moral, and I need to find out what that is.
“And when she welcomed every lowlife into our home, hoping to find her Prince Charming, I knew things would change forever. About a year after my father died, she remarried. One year was all she needed to forget about the so-called love of her life.”
There is clearly no love lost between Alek and his mother. I wonder what happened to her.
“What was your stepfather like?” As I delve deeper, I’m hoping to unearth just who Alek is. Because to defeat your enemy, you have to think like them.
Alek pushes his plate away as he seems to have lost his appetite. “Boris Ivanov was a vile man. He would never fill the shoes of my father. And when he tried…I showed him that he never could.”
“Showed him?” I question, gulping.
Alek nods casually.
“How?” I dare ask.
A hint of a smirk plays at his lips. “I killed him.”
I blink once, unsure if he’s joking or not. But someone like Alek doesn’t joke, especially when it comes to taking someone’s life.
“Y-you killed him?” I need clarification in case we’re lost in translation.
We’re not.
“Yes.”
“How old were you?” I can’t keep the horror from my tone.
Alek shrugs, spinning the gold ring on his pinkie absentmindedly. I’ve noticed him doing this before. I suddenly realize there is a reason. “Thirteen.”
This is far more horrible than I ever imagined. I never gave much thought to the adolescent Alek, but it seems this one event in time triggered the psychopath in him. Killing someone at that age changes a person. But maybe in Alek’s case, it only confirmed to him what he always knew to be true.
“I cut this ring from his finger”— he holds up his pinkie so I can see—“as it’s a reminder of who I am, and what I’ve done to get here.” He confesses this so flippantly as though he’s justifying his actions. But nothing can excuse taking another person’s life.
Even with what Kenny did to me, I don’t think I could ever do what Alek did. I guess that’s what distinguishes us from human and monster.
“Anyway”—he claps, breaking the somber mood—“I think it’s time for dessert.”
Eating is the furthest thing from my mind, but the servants come running from every corner of the room to clear the table.
My mind reels from everything Alek has just shared. I doubt he wanted to have a D and M talk, so I wonder why he told me this. A man like him doesn’t do anything without deliberate thought. He chose to tell me that story and had a reason for asking me to dinner…and I find out what that is the moment a woman in a maid’s outfit comes into the room holding a silver platter.
At first, I arch a brow in confusion because her serving tray doesn’t appear to hold anything. But when she places it in front of me, I recoil backward, my seat scraping along the polished flooring when I see what she holds.
“It’s okay,” Alek coos, gripping my upper thigh to stop me from fleeing.
But it’s not okay. How can it be when before me sits a large knife?
The long blade has a handle made out of what looks like ivory. It’s a decorative piece, like one would us
e in a ritual. My mouth grows dry, and my palms begin to sweat.
“Wh-what’s going on?” I stumble over my words, terrified.
Alek seems to be in his element as he smiles. “I told you. It’s time for dessert.” Unless we’re about to carve a cake made of rock, then I’m clueless to how this knife relates to dessert.
“Lev, we’re ready,” Alek calls out, grinning broadly.
I have no idea what’s going on. So I wait, my eyes peeled to the doorway. Seconds feel like hours but when the grand reveal occurs, I don’t understand a damn thing.
The man who escorted me here enters, but he’s not alone. Beside him is a man with a sack draped over his head. His arms are tied behind his back, and by the spilled blood on the front of his white T-shirt, I dare say a bloodied mess exists under that blindfold.
Lev drags the struggling man toward us, who seems to be gagged because his cries for help are muffled… just how mine were because the closer he gets to me…I smell it.
Whiskey.
“No,” I whisper, the walls closing in on me. I can’t move a muscle because I am frozen in fear.
It can’t be, I repeat over and over. There is no way the boogieman has returned. But as Alek hollers in delight, I know that he has.
Lev stops a few feet away, restraining the man who’s struggling to break free. He waits for further instruction from Alek.
“My gift to you,” he says, leaning in close while I’m dying on the inside. “Take off the blindfold.”
Lev nods, screaming at the man thrashing about wildly in Russian. To ensure he knows they’re not messing around, he punches him in the stomach, winding him. The man buckles forward, gasping for air. Alek hums his satisfaction.
Lev rips the sack from his head, and when he does…time stands still. My past crashes into me, and I’m suddenly fifteen years old again. I now understand why Alek shared his story with me about his stepfather because before me…stands mine.
“No,” I repeat, shrinking back in my chair. I’m desperate to flee, but Alek holds me in place.
The moment I speak, Kenny’s eyes fly open. It takes him a moment to focus on where he is, but when he does, they widen in utter disbelief. He may be covered in dry blood and his face beaten and bruised, but without a doubt, it’s him.
“Willow?” Although muffled, thanks to the gag, I understand him perfectly.
A fear so fierce scratches at the surface, threatening to leave me scarred for good. “Alek, p-please. I…ca-can’t.” I try to escape, but he doesn’t let me go.
“Shh. You can. You can do anything. It’s time for vengeance, just like I got mine.”
But he’s wrong.
Kenny is my kryptonite, my weakness because everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve shatters around me, leaving me the scared little girl I once was.
“I’ve done my research on you. I know what this vile man did. You and I, we are cut from the same cloth. Take back your life, my darling.”
Kenny glares at me, spittle foaming from his mouth around the gag. I shrink in my seat, shaking my head violently as I tremble in fear. Those eyes are still cruel, and although he’s aged, he still looks like the revolting predator he always was.
“H-how is he h-here?” I ask, not understanding any of this. How did Alek know about him?
Alek levels me with those eyes, and for once, I don’t see cruelness. I see my salivation. “Leave a trail for a scavenger, and he will follow,” he replies, brushing the back of his fingers along my cheek.
I’m certain I’m moments away from dying of a heart attack. “You know what he did?”
Alek nods slowly, nothing but sorrow shrouding him. I don’t understand why. Why does he care if Kenny hurt me? Isn’t he doing the same thing? But an epiphany hits. Alek has never hurt me the way Kenny has. This is an example of showing me he…cares.
Bile rises, and I lurch forward, intent on throwing up my dinner.
This is my surprise. My stepfather on a silver platter for me to do with as I please. Zoey hurt me, and to express his fondness for me, Alek is allowing me to rid this earth of the monster who plagues my dreams.
“How do you like being gagged, you worthless piece of shit? Bragging to your “friends” about what you did to a teenage girl wasn’t a smart move,” Alek says, leaning back in his seat. It appears he has done his research after all.
Kenny hasn’t taken his eyes off me, which infuriates Alek.
“Lev, take out his gag.” The moment he does, Kenny gnashes his teeth together, lunging forward, intent on murdering me.
Alek loosens his hold on me, and I spring up from my seat, desperate to put as much distance between Kenny and me.
“You fucking slut!” Kenny roars, struggling against Lev. “I’m going to kill you! Come here, you bitch!”
His voice evokes the memories that have dogged me for years, and I back up until my ass hits the wall. I know Alek wants me to use that knife in front of him, but I can’t. That will make me no better than Kenny.
“No,” I sob, wishing this would all go away.
I need a lifeline, and for once, the universe cuts me a break.
“What the fuck is going on?” Saint’s question is laced with pure venom.
Lifting my eyes, I blink past my tears to see him. I need to focus on something that makes sense. Relief I have never felt before crashes into me, and I feel like I can breathe again.
Alek shatters that reprieve. “I told you to take the day off.”
“And I told you I don’t need the day off,” Saint counters with rapid speed, his eyes never wavering from mine. “Who is that man?” He addresses me, beseeching me to tell him what’s going on. But to vocalize it will mean I have to decide what to do next.
“Your momma was right. You are poison. Look what you’ve done.”
The room grows even smaller as things are about to turn dire…for my stepfather.
Saint closes his eyes and tips his face to the heavens, breathing deeply as Kenny has just signed his own death warrant.
“Believe me, her pussy ain’t worth the trouble.”
Just like always, Kenny doesn’t know when to shut up, but unlike then, when I had no one to protect me, now…I do.
Saint movements are lithe as he walks over to Kenny, and without warning, he punches him in the face so hard, his head snaps back with a nauseating crack. He staggers backward, the blood pouring from his nose, indicating Saint has broken it.
I yelp, muting my cries behind my hand as I watch on, wishing I could feel something other than this paralyzing fear. I’ve dreamed of the day I got my revenge. There are so many things I want to do like incite terror in him just as he did to me.
But I can’t.
That would make me just like him, and I am nothing like him.
Alek springs up, not wanting to get blood on his chinos. He suddenly seems annoyed that Saint is here, raining on his good Samaritan parade. “Well, this just got messy.” He reaches for the white napkin to dab at the splatter of blood on his shirt.
My hands are splayed out against the wall as I need something to anchor me. And when Alek reaches for the knife, it’s clear why he made the toast he did.
To new beginnings, indeed.
“дорогая, the choice is yours.” He extends the knife my way while I shake my head in horror. “But he doesn’t leave here alive.”
“What? No. Y-you c-can’t. I w-won’t.” I’m on the cusp of hyperventilating because this is wrong. No matter which way I look at it, if I kill Kenny, I will kill a piece of myself as well.
“Kill him!” Alek exclaims, waving the knife. He is clearly annoyed that I don’t like my surprise.
Kenny suddenly realizes he’s in deep shit. “Look, man, just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone about this.”
Alek laughs in response.
Groveling was never in Kenny’s DNA, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So he tries another method. “Willow, your mother needs me. Don’t let them do this to h
er. If you kill me, the blood will be on your hands! You kill her too by doing this!”
The mere mention of my mom opens the floodgates, ones which have been watertight for years, and I wonder if I’ll ever come back from this in one piece.
“Mom?” I whisper; my voice sounds alien like a lost daughter calling out to her mother.
Kenny senses she’s his get out of jail for free card and plays on it. I know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t matter. Regardless of everything…she’s still my mom. “Yes, your mother loves you. She never forgot about you. If you let me go, I will leave her for good. You can have your mom back. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Suddenly, images of Mom and me shopping together and laughing over something stupid as we stand around the kitchen counter eating pink frosted cupcakes assault me because I never got to do those things with her, and I wanted to. So badly.
These normal mother-daughter things that most take for granted or you’d see in a Hallmark movie are things I wanted to experience with her but never did because she was too busy forgetting I existed. But now Kenny’s giving me a second chance. He’s offering me something which would patch over this giant hole in my heart.
“Yes,” I finally reply softly, pushing off the wall. “How is she?”
“She’s good. We live in South Carolina now. You would love it there.”
“I’ve never been,” I say in a faraway voice, staggering slowly as I walk on autopilot.
I am hovering over myself, watching on in anger. I can see what he’s doing—luring me in with false promises—but I can’t seem to stop. The excitement of living happily ever after outweighs my good sense.
“We have horses and four dogs.”
“How many horses?” I ask, continuing my dazed pace.
“Three. Your mom wanted to get one for you. She knew you’d come back.”
“She did?” A single tear trickles down my cheek, and a happiness I haven’t felt in so very long overwhelms me.
Kenny nods quickly. “Yes. She never stopped loving you. Neither of us did. So, you’re going to be a good little girl, aren’t you, Willow, and you’re going to set me free?”
The world stops spinning, and I inhale to catch my breath.
