Only Pretend

by Nora Flite

  So Leonide had reacted weird to seeing me get touched. It didn't mean anything. He'd stumbled into my room, terrified me and kissed me and locked me up once more.

  Nothing had changed.

  I pressed my lower lip with my thumb. Nothing will change, if I don't make it happen. I was on my own. Across the ocean, in freaking Estonia of which I knew jack shit about. Who here would save me, except for me?

  The air of my room smelled like him. He'd left hours ago, and still...

  Leonide is not your savior. In the middle of my floor, my pillow lay like a forgotten corpse. He's the demon keeping you here. He's the bad guy, the monster! The villain who is selling you and cracking your mind into pieces.

  Why did such an evil man own lips that were made for kissing?

  Gnawing hunger pushed out my cryptic thoughts. Time inched by, tormented me with how I wanted either sleep or food. I kept expecting Leonide to return. With my ear to the door, I strained to hear foot steps.

  Why wasn't he coming? It has to be past breakfast by now. Leaning away, I examined the door, seeking... what? There's no way out of this room. If Leonide wanted to, if he really didn't care, he could lock me up until I starved.

  Imagining myself as a pile of bones and dust, I slid to the floor. He wouldn't. He plans to marry me off to that Vitaly guy. I tucked my chin on top of my knees. My mistake is that I think I know what Leonide plans. He's so... unstable.

  I'd changed back into the dress I'd been cleaning in yesterday. It was too much to consider wearing the gossamer one again. It was balled up in the corner, glittering unfairly among the boring room. The sight of it clenched my stomach. He gives me things, but every gift is meant to torment.

  Being alone, away from him, was also torment.

  I saw the danger in my wandering thoughts. Wild frustration controlled my body; the back of my skull slamming into the door. The noise, the crack, shuddered through to my knees. Fuck—Celeste, I scolded myself, do not, for even a second, think of his presence as a gift. Nothing about him is a reward!

  But without him, what did I have? No food, no water, nothing existed but me and my painful awareness of how little I could do. I was trapped whether he was next to me or miles away. As long as Leonide had me... it didn't matter where he was.

  I was aware of him even now, I... Stop it! Again, the wood vibrated. Sparks exploded behind my eyes, pain that removed my treacherous, wandering mind. I don't want to see him. My brain jostled with the impact on the door. I don't want to think about him! Instead of ringing, my ears roared. I don't want anything to do with Leonide! I don't...

  I don't want him.

  Hanging my head, I heaved for breath. I'd done it—I'd found respite from my betraying brain. The base of my skull throbbed from how I'd abused it. Hot tears—tears from pain, only from the pain—rolled to my chin. One hit my lips, tasting like the sea.

  If I cried enough, maybe I could drown in my tears.

  That would free me from this madness.

  Above me, the lock shifted. I had enough time to slide away, letting Leonide open the door. Hard lines cut into the corners of his mouth as he spotted me. “What the hell are you doing in here!?”

  Scuttling backwards, I couldn't respond. Smashing my head to forget about you. I couldn't utter that. Impossible.

  He didn't let me get far. Reaching out, Leonide snagged the front of my dress, stretched it out. “Hold still!” he growled, yanking me towards his legs. His hand went for my hair, tugging, aggravating the damage I'd done.

  “Ah!” I sobbed, ripping at his arms to get him away.

  Amazingly, he released me. The respite was brief; he knelt down, fingers on my neck. “Celeste, what the hell did you do?”

  Guilt watered my eyes. “Nothing.”

  Ignoring my grimace, he ran fingers over my scalp until he discovered the egg-sized lump. “You did this to yourself? Why?” I tightened my lips; he shook me until I couldn't see straight. “Why?”

  “Because!” I gasped, falling onto my hands as he released me. Because I don't know what I want anymore. “Just... just because.”

  Of all the things Leonide had done, might do, I wasn't ready for him to scoop me into his arms. We were on the bed, me in his lap and nose against the hard buttons of his shirt. It was a position meant for girls being rescued; girls being carried over the threshold.

  The situation, at its heart, was warped.

  Cradling me so that I saw nothing but his chest, a hint of his Adam's apple bobbing, Leonide lowered his tone. “You really think your situation is worth harming yourself over. Celeste, how can I make you understand how blessed you are?”

  All remnants of the sweet fog burnt away. “You're insane.” Pushing away, I leveled my eyes on his. “Blessed? It's not a blessing to be a prisoner!”

  He wound his arms on me to keep me in place. “Marriage isn't prison.”

  “This isn't marriage!”

  “What I'm giving you will lead to marriage, Celeste.” He actually sounded put out by my reaction. “No family, nothing waiting for you back in that garbage I pulled you from.” My ribs creaked under his crushing pressure. “I've taken you from your dregs of reality, I'm transforming you into someone worthy of a life with no struggle, no wondering where you fit in or where you'll end up!”

  I couldn't blink. I wanted to stare into his black depths and understand just how much of this bullshit he believed. Leonide had an enviable poker face. “You actually think that. What the hell has convinced you that this life is better than what I had?”

  “You had nothing, Celeste.”

  My nostrils flared. “I had freedom.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, shoving me from his lap and to the floor. “And look at where it got you.”

  Pain radiated from my elbow; I ignored it, turned to glare up at him. “You got me here! Not me! You and how you tricked me—ah!” He fucking kicked me!

  He drove another heel into my hip. “Not me. You, sweet girl. You and your weakness that coaxed you to my room. A night with a stranger, that's where your freedom led you.” Leonide motioned around the room. “This is your reward for wanting to be free.”

  I didn't give him the satisfaction of rubbing where he'd kicked me. “And you, sir. You think my reward for obeying you, for being a weak and simpering little slave, is getting to live under the control of a man I've never met?”

  A ponderous smile grew on him. “So much anger. I suspect you enjoy rebelling.” He cupped my face before I could swing out of reach. “You rebel against me? We continue your training.” Thumbs dug in, a fly trap when I'd never felt more like a tiny insect. “You rebel against your husband, and he will replace you.”

  Leonide didn't smell like old wine anymore. The man who stumbled on me last night, threatened me and kissed me... that was just a dream.

  The monster in front of me was my reality.

  Letting me go, he rose smoothly from the bed. “Clean up and change. We're going out.”

  I felt for damage from his claw-like grip. “Out where?”

  “You're convinced that this marriage isn't good for you.” Leaning in the doorway, he waited for me to stand. “I'm going to open your eyes.”

  - Chapter Nine -

  Celeste

  The sun outside was turning every leaf on the trees into cut emeralds, waiting to be plucked. With the window rolled down in the car, crisp air in my nose, it was a picturesque day fit for picnics or post cards.

  I could enjoy none of it.

  Where is he taking me? We were driving into town, I'd figured that much. There was a single road from his house towards the buildings below. To go anywhere, we had to cross through the homes and shops. Is he taking me past it? The land ahead was flat, the road a straight shot into the horizon. There was nothing out there, as far as my eyes were concerned.

  The tires rolled to a halt. Guess we're staying in town, then. Without knowing what was waiting for me, I couldn't turn down my anxiety. The last time I'd been here, Leonide had struck
me down in front of so many people. I remembered the sound of his zipper too easily.

  “Climb out.” The keys vanished in his pocket. He didn't look at me as he exited, door slamming shut.

  I had the funniest desire to lock the vehicle from inside. Picturing Leonide, features contorted in fury, smashing the windows to get at me... I shoved my door open and stepped into the sun.

  In the window of the building, I saw myself; blue cotton dress, hair fresh as sparkling lemonade. I look less like a street walker today, I mused.

  From the reflection, Leonide emerged. He stood beside me with that impregnating aura of his. “Follow me, we have a table waiting.”

  “A table?” I asked, noting how his mouth dipped. Around us, people milled but did not hide their curious stares. We were under a microscope. I gleaned what his disapproval meant. “Er—a table, sir?”

  Bending his head, I followed his gaze to the sign above the window. Thick, grey words on a mustard colored sign read 'Kummel Resto.' I had no clue what it meant, but when we brushed through the jingling door, savory smells assaulted me.

  Leonide had taken me... to a restaurant.

  A large man approached us, hands wiping together over and over. His voice rumbled, jovial, but not a lick of English. Standing there, I watched while Leonide greeted him in his rolling Russian. They laughed, slapped arms, all while I stood there feeling out of place.

  “Celeste,” Leonide called. I straightened at my name, saw the stocky stranger was beaming at me. “This is Nestor, he owns the place.”

  “Hello, Nestor,” I said politely. Act nice, it's your safest bet. Having been shunned from help last time I was in town, I felt little compassion for any of the inhabitants.

  We were led to a small table in the corner, sunshine streaming just out of reach. He'd picked the dimmest section of the restaurant; I managed not to roll my eyes. Nestor handed us menus, shuffling away with a few final words—Estonian or Russian, I still had no grasp.

  With the stranger gone, I stared dubiously over the top of my menu. “What's that look for?” he asked, pleased as fucking punch.

  “What's your plan?”

  “My plan?”

  “I...” Sitting there, holding a menu in the middle of a restaurant, it all felt like some cruel scam. Any second, he was going to throw me to the ground; make me strip, expose me to the world down to my ruined soul. “What are we doing here?”

  He turned a page of the menu. “We're getting lunch. You seem to be struggling with that.”

  My eyes couldn't stop shooting around. Where was the catch? When would all the normalcy become my torture? It's wrong, it has to be wrong. He'd never let me sit here and eat lunch after weeks in that fucking house!

  In my frenzy, I spotted the woman the instant she pushed through the kitchen doors. I saw inside, a tiny stove and floating smoke; a quaint area to cook in. The girl, whoever she was, suited the atmosphere to a T. Cute, curly brown hair, green eyes and freckles on her pale skin. She was smiling like she needed to show the world every tooth.

  That adoration was fixed firmly on Leonide.

  Baffled, I watched as she came to us, hands twisting in her apron. Like Nestor, her clear voice was another lilting language. The two knew each other. She's staring at him like she wants to hug him and is holding back.

  “Ira,” he said, nodding towards me. “Dlya nashego gostya. English, please.”

  Blushing wildly, the girl—Ira, he'd said—bowed to me. “Ah! Forgive me, I should have known.”

  They were watching me expectantly. “Nice to meet you,” I said slowly. Leonide didn't appear cross, so I kept talking. “I'm Celeste. Ira, was that your name?”

  Such a demure bow all over again. “Yes. It's nice to meet you.”

  Folding his menu, Leonide took mine before I reacted. “You're looking wonderful, Ira.” The girl nearly swooned. “Be a dear and bring us something strong.” His cocky grin waxed. Gripping the menus, he released them at her gentle tug. “Let Nestor pick our meal, he knows what's fresh.”

  Ira giggled, hips swaying with exaggeration as she vanished. A dull ache in my hands made me look down; I'd been digging them into the edge of the table. What the hell? Letting go, I hid my fists in my lap, eyeing Leonide to see if he'd noticed. Calm down, don't get weird because you watched some girl flirting with the guy you're supposed to hate. You don't even know her!

  But Leonide did. He seemed to know her very well. “How...” I stopped myself, losing confidence the second he met my stare.

  “Hm? Go on, what did you want to ask?”

  “That girl.” Ugh, I sounded pathetic. “How do you know her?”

  Leonide stroked his finger down the edge of his silver tie. “Ira was one of the girls I helped to find a match.”

  The reveal made the knot in my neck grow larger. She was like me? He kept her, trained her, married her off and... Visions of hands sliding down my thighs filled my heart with lead. The thought of Leonide and another woman—No, stop it! You knew he'd done this to others. Yet, seeing one in the flesh... seeing how she simpered and ate him up with her eyes...

  He reached across; touched my shoulder and made me jump. “Did you notice how happy she was?”

  “I—what?”

  Fondling a strand of my hair, he let it go and sat back. “Ira. Her demeanor, her glow. Did you notice it?”

  I noticed how she looked so lovingly at you. Furrowing my eyebrows, I sought out my voice. “You took me here to convince me about the marriage. I get it.”

  Leonide's smile made no sense to me. “But you don't believe it.”

  “How can I? I don't know a thing about her, and even then... she's one girl.” One girl out of however many he's done this too. Suddenly, I wanted to know. How deep and long did this filthy wormhole go? Looking up, I fought past my wave of nerves; it was hard to be brave when he wore that smirk. “You said you'd done this to others. How many?”

  My expectation that he would waffle or string me along broke into shards. “Since I've been doing this alone? I'd count around forty, fifty girls.”

  Trembles started in my calves. “F—forty or fifty?”

  “Correct.” Sordid pleasure roamed across his face. “Around one girl every two months or so. It's hard to account off the top of my head.”

  Dry heaves started, robbing me of the things I wanted to say. Monster. Demon. Emotionless.

  Leonide crinkled his nose. “Relax. Here, Ira is back with something to wash your righteous fury down.”

  I saw her approach; she saw my milk-white face. The cheer in her step faded to uncertainty. Setting down two glasses of something light orange, Ira fidgeted. “Is everything alright, sir?”

  Sir. Sir sir sir. Gripping the drink, I took a deep swallow; coughed at the liquid flames.

  “It's fine. Celeste is struggling with some news, that's all.”

  She calls him sir and he's sold so many girls he's forgotten the exact number and—My whisper was flat; they were both staring at me, but I didn't raise my eyes. “How can you do this to people?”

  On the table, Leonide's hands moved. It was Ira who answered first. “Leonide fixed my life.”

  Her words struck something in me, a statement I'd been slapped by... how long ago?

  I don't want to be boring.

  I can fix myself.

  She kept talking; I lifted my eyes, couldn't break away from the pride burning in her pretty greens. “He gave me everything I thought I could never have. He saved me.”

  “Saved you!” Praying I could destroy the glass, I settled for slamming it heavily. Ira flinched. “He made you a slave!”

  “He made me a bride!” The frail girl was gone. Ira looked down her nose at me. “He gave me to a man who loves me, someone who would never throw me aside without another thought.”

  Her words sliced me, erased my strength. Leonide caught my eye, his lips a smooth line of smugness. We both knew what I was thinking. Thrown aside. Yes. I know what that feels like.

  Ira
breathed in, lowering her tone. “I cannot tell what's in your heart, Celeste. But do not tell me what is wrong or right inside of mine.” Leaning towards Leonide, her tame side returned. “Forgive me for my outburst. Nestor will bring your meal.”

  “It's fine,” he said gently.

  I turned to my drink, drank all of it and hoped it would drown me.

  It was not to be.

  ****

  Our food came, bowls of something called mulgikapsad that smelled both salty and pungent. I didn't know what it was; didn't care. I'd been starving before, having had no breakfast, but now I just wanted to drink away my mood.

  It was a task I took to with gusto.

  “Celeste, you need to eat.”

  Turning towards the wall, I stared into my glass. Whatever I drank, it was strong enough to turn my eyes dry and my lips numb. “You want to fatten me for sale like a pig?”

  Outside, the sun had escaped behind coal colored clouds. It couldn't have been much later than the afternoon, yet it felt like the night was crawling in.

  “I want you to do what I say.”

  Yes, of course he does. Finishing my glass, I set it down with a bang. He wants me to become a perfect, sweet wife. Just like the other forty plus fucking girls. Just like Ira. On the other side of the restaurant, I saw the girl beside Nestor. He handed her a tray, and in passing, gently kissed her cheek. The love that welled in her stare was ice in my veins.

  I laid my half-lidded gaze on Leonide. “Fine. I'll do what you say. Tell me, and I'll obey it all.”

  A single eyebrow shifted up. “So you've said before.”

  Looking at his hard jaw, how his hair gleamed in the light, I felt the alcohol and the memory of Vegas climbing through me. I remembered his rich voice, his wicked tongue. “You've done this with all those girls before. Have you ever failed? Not married them off?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then,” I mused, tilting my barren glass towards the couple in the back, “what's the point in fighting it?”

  Following my gesture, Leonide sighed. “You're very dramatic.”