by A. E. King
As his words sink in, so does an oppressive fog of guilt, swirling around me and seeping into my heart. I see the unwashed faces, tear-streaked and afraid. It’s my fault that tonight they descend one more level into the inferno. Dimitri had a plan to set them free. I did this. My head starts to spin, and my entire body trembles. It’s too much. I need to get away from him so I can unravel alone. I stand and walk to my changing room.
“Where are you going?” he asks, surprised by my departure. My entire body is shaking uncontrollably. I want to curl into a little ball and block out this entire night.
“I’m changing out of this gown, Dima.” I spit at him with as much contempt as I can find inside my bleak world.
“You use my name as a weapon.” He sighs and stands up to follow me. “Maybe I liked being Dima.”
“You haven’t been my Dima for a long time.” I wish I could erase the words as soon as they’re out. I don’t want to feel anything for him. I want to break this connection between us once and for all. It clouds my judgement. It leaves me susceptible to danger, and contributes to me unknowingly hurting others. If I didn’t feel anything for him, maybe we could just work together. Instead, I’m fighting battles in my heart when I need to be fighting battles all around me.
I need to let Dima go, but I can’t. I have so few moments of joy in my life that I can’t seem to release any of them. I fear my heart would sink into a deficit and all that would remain is solitude and hopelessness.
Is that why I can’t stand to be near him now? Because it’s impossible to love Dima and loathe Dimitri.
I know I should let them all go, Mama, Sasha, and Dima. But they’re each engraved in my heart. The difference is the others are gone so I can revere their memories without the corruption of reality.
I hurry toward the closet, shaking, close to tears, and anxious to be away from him, but he follows me.
“I can dress myself.” Anger is easier than the internal crumble I’m experiencing. Dimitri slides his hand across the door to hold it open.
“You’re trembling.” His voice is low, and his eyes are full of concern that I cannot believe.
“I’m fine.” The catch in my voice betrays me.
“The only way to be fine is to be numb, and you’re not there yet. You still feel it all.” He holds out his arms, inviting me into the warmth of his embrace, and slowly moves closer. I don’t want to need him, but I can’t stop the tremors. I crave something that feels safe, even if that safety is built on a false foundation.
He keeps his eyes locked with mine, waiting to see if I will tell him to stop. When I don’t, he envelops me in his arms and I burrow my head into his neck, seeking comfort. Wordlessly he holds me, rubbing my back like my mother did when I was little and couldn’t sleep.
I’m grateful that he offers no words of comfort or trite expressions of condolence. His silence allows me to block out Dimitri and just feel the sweet soothing of his hands across my back, to revel in the softness of my cheek pressed against the nape of his neck. Minutes pass, and gradually my trembling subsides.
Embarrassment begins to replace the need for closeness that was so tangible moments before. I pull away, wishing I didn’t have to. “You can go.” I dismiss him, needing him to be gone because my want for him is too potent in this small space. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.
“I can stay.” His tone is not that of a lover or even a friend. It is controlled, with just a whisper of desire that is so insignificant I’m probably imagining it. “I can stay if you want me.”
I shake my head and he nods. Then says, “It’s not your fault, the deal falling through.” He sounds tired. This day must have exhausted him as much as it did me. “It was mine. There were too many variables. I didn’t think you’d believe me if you didn’t see it with your own eyes, but I didn’t anticipate your instinct to fight. I thought you’d turn around and run for help.” He smiles slightly at me. “What a sight you were. I wish Sasha could have seen it.”
He looks at me with his almost-onyx eyes and reaches out for my right hand, rubbing his thumb gingerly over his mother’s band. “We won more than we lost today. Don’t beat yourself up over the things you can’t control.”
My lip quivers, and I blink back the sting.
He steps toward me “Will you let me stay?” he asks desperately. “I have a bad feeling about all of this. And with the block, I can’t monitor to make sure you’re safe either. I don’t want to be disconnected from you.”
I shake my head. “I think you should go.”
“The day your mother collected me from that shop in Moscow was a dark day. But she brought you with her. You felt safe somehow. You were there for me, Yulia, every time the darkness felt like too much. You sat with me and comforted me for as long as I needed it.”
He continues. “Today was full of horrors. Tomorrow will be full of new ones. So tonight, I’d like to sit with you through your darkness. Let me stay, just this once. I’m on your team.”
The mask is off, and I can feel how much this moment means to him. But herein lies the problem: I’m not on his team. He knew about the corruption and said nothing for years. He’s too young to be so powerful. He must have earned that power, and I shudder to think how. I don’t trust him, and I will bring him to justice regardless of how much it hurts me to do so.
He takes a step closer, mistaking my silence for admission of my need. “No one is ready for this life when they’re forced into it. The rest of us were systematically introduced. You were thrown in. It’s okay to fall apart.” His face is kind.
I think of my mother’s words: Yulia, do the hard thing now so it will be easier later. It was her advice on life and she applied it to everything from practicing the piano to my schoolwork.
But easy and hard were so much clearer then. I could fall into Dimitri’s arms and feel his strong hands against my back, soothing me until this wretched day washes away into unconsciousness. And then what? Tomorrow I’m left craving his touch? If I let him worm his way back into my heart will it ache more when I watch him die for his crimes?
However, if I accept his comfort and kindness he will take it as trust. And the more he trusts the less he will suspect. For now I need his trust. Hundreds of little lives need Dimitri on my side. Why didn’t my mother prepare me for hard now, hard later?
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, carefully raising every wall around my heart. I picture him with Mariana and numerous other faceless women. I picture him selling children and consorting with Kostya. And when my soul feels like steel, I step into Dimitri’s arms and rest my head on his shoulder. Strong gentle hands rub circles on my back. How long can my body crave him before my soul gives in?
Chapter 12
The sun is not even up when I step out of the shower, determined to get an early start. I wrap a towel around my hair and another around my body. I don’t bother to wipe the steam from the mirror. My appearance won’t matter today.
I hurry toward my closet and nearly scream when I see Dimitri sitting on my sofa.
Heat colors my face, and I wrap my arms across my chest.
“What are you doing in here?” I snap at him.
“Dobre ootra to you too. You said you wanted to leave early.” He shrugs.
He’s wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, all black. He holds up a thermos, and the smell of hot coffee wafts through the cool morning air.
“Why didn’t you knock?” I ask him.
“I did, but you didn’t answer.” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“So you thought you would just come in?” I ask, fighting my annoyance.
“What did you want me to do? Wait in the hall?” His brow creases.
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do when we’re actually living together?” A muscle in his jaw tightens.
I pray it won’t come to that. Engagements can last months, maybe years. All I need is enough evidence and some allies to help me put both him and my father behind bars. But I
don’t say any of that.
“I’ll be dressed in fifteen minutes. Go wake Zhenya,” I say to him as I walk toward my closet.
“Yulia, let her sleep. She’s too old for this sort of work,” his assurance indicates that it’s the only possible way to look at this situation. I guess that is the price of my comfort last night. Today he feels more in control.
I turn to face him, and the memories of last night threaten to overwhelm me. Dima tenderly cradling me, his strong arms gently stroking my back, and his lips whispering kind words while weakness made me want them.
We gaze at each other, both uncertain in our new dynamic. I could argue with him, but something tells me it would be a waste of breath.
“Please, Dimitri.” I try on sincerity. “Zhenya can help with tasks that you and I can’t do because of our notoriety. I want someone we can trust. We’ll need her today.”
He contemplates for a moment and then stands and moves toward me. Heat rises in me as he nears, and my skin erupts with chill bumps against the cool morning air.
“I’ll go wake Zhenya.” He keeps a safe distance, and his eyes don’t linger. I appreciate it.
I smile tentatively, and he returns it.
“I’ve ordered a car and a cleaning crew that won’t talk. They’re good.” He looks at me tenderly. “Today will be hard, but we’ll face it together.”
I nod wordlessly.
“Go get dressed. I put clothes in your closet. You’re dressing down a level today. It will be dirty work, and the charcoal will help you blend in. I don’t want word leaking that you’re there.”
“Thank you, Dimitri,” I move cautiously and kiss him on the cheek. He smiles again. This time it reaches his eyes, causing them to crinkle at the corners.
After weeks of trying to find my voice and power in this relationship, I have my first win. I try to pinpoint what changed the power dynamic. Was it my weakness last night? Is he the type of man who feels stronger when his partner is weak and he gets to play the hero? Or is it my collaboration? Now that our objectives align for a moment, is there nothing more to fight about? Or maybe he, like me, craves the comfort of another’s arms. No, I remind myself. He has other arms waiting. Women are part of his job.
No matter how I earned this newer, more accommodating Dimitri, I will surely pay the price. I’m purchasing favors on credit. Today, he listens, but at some point down the road he’ll seek repayment, and I fear what he will ask in return.
Chapter 13
The streets are empty this morning as we arrive at the orphanage. A military vehicle follows behind us, full of armed men that Dimitri hand-picked for this assignment.
“Will we need guns?” I ask when I see the men loading their weapons. Heavily armed soldiers patrolling the halls will terrify the children. I feel sick already.
“We’ll have very displeased investors once word gets out about what we’re doing. We can’t be too cautious.”
Zhenya is solemn this morning. She has crossed herself a few times, mumbling prayers.
“Wait in the car until the building is secure and we have all of the teachers loaded into the truck,” Dimitri says. “Then I’ll bring you in.”
I grab his jacket to stop him. “Where will you take them?”
He scowls at my question. “You said you wanted every single teacher replaced.”
“Where will you take them?” I ask again, feeling sweat bead at the edge of my hairline.
“They will be sent to a work camp,” he says, and I gasp. There is no release date when someone is assigned to a work camp. These teachers will spend the duration of their lives doing hard labor in the most brutal conditions until death becomes a wished-for release.
“Without trial? Some of them were just following orders. Surely they don’t all deserve the work camp.” I grasp his jacket more tightly. “We can’t do that.”
“Your options are limited,” he says patiently.”Your father has given strict instructions. No one can be given a chance to talk. There will be no trials. So you can keep the teachers employed here, or you can send them to the work camp. You know what could happen if the people found out about this.”
“But what if they aren’t guilty? Let me at least speak with them first,” I plead, palms sweating and heart beating too fast.
“They’re not innocent, Yulia. You saw the situation with your own eyes. Every one of them contributed to that horror.” He motions toward the building then sighs and grabs my hand. “Let me take care of this for you.”
I stiffen, and my will overcomes my weakness. “No, I’m in charge of the operations. I’ll do it.” I attempt to sound more confident than I am.
“There’s no other way. Some deserve more leniency. But without trials, the only option is to keep them here and risk continued neglect and abuse for all those children. Removing the teachers creates the least amount of damage.” I search his face for any crease in his brow that would betray his uncertainty. There isn’t one. He’s certain that it’s right because it’s less wrong than the alternative, and I can’t think of anything better.
I give my consent, sickness plaguing my mind and stomach. I fear it is a bad decision, but I can’t find a better one. Is this how all leaders fall? “I want to speak to them before they go.”
Ten minutes later, Dimitri’s hologram appears in front of us through the portable Peredacha. “All clear.”
I grasp Zhenya’s hand as we brace ourselves against what’s to come. I hold a handkerchief over my mouth and nose as we enter the dank building that pulses with cries and crimes.
Zhenya crosses herself as she enters, taking in the scents and sounds. Little heads poke through doorways and disappear again when they see us. The guard leads us into the gymnasium where teachers that I’ve met previously huddle in the middle of the room, crying. The headmistress looks unrepentant.
“You face charges of criminal negligence, gross neglect, and violence against minors,” I say to her. My voice shakes as I fight my own emotions.
“I was following orders,” she sniffs.
“Every one of you contributed to this neglect.” I force myself to look each teacher in the eyes. “In all the times I came here, none of you whispered for my help. I would have protected you.” Some of the women look at the ground, their shame too heavy to let their eyes meet mine. “You’re all being sent to a work camp.” Their cries horrify me. Women plead for their children, their aging parents, their lives. Some shake with sobs. Others sit, pale and paralyzed from shock. The words taste wrong in my mouth. The tremble in my hands matches the tremble in my heart. I hate this—all of it. I look to Dimitri for support. Why is this the only option?
Everyone is entitled to a trial under our laws. They may be guilty, but what about us? This isn’t justice. It’s my father’s corruption and abuse. He allowed all of this. And yet he will remain spotless while these women pay for their crimes and his.
“Everyone up, line up against that wall. If you fight, you will be shot,” Dimitri interjects, and the women begin to move. As they step into line, their cries become more hushed. Shoulders shake silently as women stifle their sobs to protect their lives. It’s too similar to another line I witnessed in this place. Children laughing and playing only to have the life snuffed out of them as they stepped into line. What must these women’s lives be like if they found this orphanage acceptable? How does a person grow so unfeeling that they no longer care about the plight of the helpless? I wish I could turn off my sympathy for these women, but I can’t.
“Stop!” I shout, and the room falls silent.
Dimitri rushes to my side, places his arm around my waist, and whispers in my ear. “You can’t help them. Come on, let’s get you out of here. You don’t need to see this.”
“Re-education,” I shout. “Send them to the re-education center.”
Dimitri increases the pressure on my waist, pulling me closer. He places his lips to my ears so no one else can hear our exchange. “You don’t have the authority to dec
ide that.”
I ignore him, gambling that my hasty alternative will work. “You will pay for your crimes just as surely as you would at the work camp. But if you prove yourself reformed, you’ll be returned to society and your families.” The re-education center is just as harsh as the work camps. These women will return broken and fearful. But at least they will return.
“Yulia,” Dimitri whispers harshly. “You can’t do that.” He pulls me to a corner, away from the other soldiers and the crowd of crying women.
“I just did it,” I whisper back to him. “I may not have the authority, but don’t you? Surely together, we have enough power to do the right thing. What’s he going to do about it?”
The crease in Dimitri’s brow tells me he’s not convinced.
“I’m not risking our lives for theirs.” His whisper cuts like a dagger.
“And I’m not risking our integrity for this injustice. He’ll still get what he wants. No one will be left to talk.”
Dimitri’s jaw is taut, his glare ferocious. “Move them out,” he yells to his men. “Deliver them to the re-education center.”
He storms out of the room, the slam of the door echoing behind him.
Chapter 14
This day has been equal parts exhausting and disturbing. I sent Zhenya to find mothers from the community to replace the staff. Desperate for work, they lined up for the opportunity. Zhenya conducted interviews, impressing upon the women the requirement of secrecy and the consequences for talking.
A few of the women even have children here. The same horror I felt at seeing this scene for the first time reflected in their faces. Their disgust was strangely comforting. I hope it means they will never allow such abuse to creep back in.
Dimitri’s cleaning crew was capable, although overwhelmed.
My idea to reach out to the head of veterans affairs proved very useful. Colonel Volkov came himself with a crew of retired medics, cooks, and other personnel that proved invaluable. Their ability to organize quickly allowed us to get the children two meager meals. And many of the children were able to see a medic for the first time in their lives.
