Page 10 of Wicked Savage

“I teach Gregory how to be a man. Do not worry about my son.” His words are slow, deliberate. Designed to make me flinch.

And it works. My stomach twists into a tight knot as he steps closer, intentionally cutting down the space between us to make me feel small.

“Dinara, just go. I’m fine.” Mom’s voice trembles, but I can hear the effort in it, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

But I can’t leave her. Not now, not ever. The thought of turning away from her, leaving her alone to face him…it feels like a betrayal. I’d never do that. I’d never abandon my mother.

He moves again, closing the distance, and I step back, my pulse hammering in my ears and my breath shallow.

His footsteps are heavy, purposeful, and I feel them in my chest. “I will teach you lesson, Dinara. One you remember.”

“Let her go!” Mom shouts out of nowhere, rushing out from behind him, a vase in her hands and a quiet, desperate defiance in her eyes.

The world tilts, everything slows down, and I scream.

“Mom! No!” But the words are barely out before it happens.

He’s already grabbed the vase from her hands, tearing it away in one swift motion.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I lunge at him, grabbing on to his back with all my strength, pushing with everything inside me as I try to get him away from her.

“Mom!” I shout.

The rest happens in a blur.

One second, she’s screaming. The next, she’s silent as he continues to bash her face in, over and over, while I punch his back, trying to stop him.

But it’s too late,

“Mom!” I sob for her, but she can’t hear me.

Not anymore

Blood is everywhere.

Herblood.

“Mom!” My small fists rain across his back.

But he doesn’t even feel them. He just curses at her in Russian as he continues to bludgeon her until I can’t even recognize her face.

* * *

If only I had seen her stand up. If only I had somehow warned her not to do what she did. Maybe she’d still be here.

Almost every night, I relive that day, as though I'm being punished for not doing enough. For failing her. I wake up gasping for air with tears choking me, or screaming so loud it echoes in the silence of my room. It’s like I’m back there again, watching it all unfold right before my eyes.

God, it hurts. The pain of remembering her—of knowing I couldn’t save her—is a suffocating knot in my chest that refuses to loosen. I can’t get past the fact that she’s gone. Gone forever. I’ll never hear her laughter again. Never feel her warm, comforting arms around me.

She’s dead. No matter how hard my mind tries to shut it out, the truth is undeniable: she’s not coming back.

“Dinara?” Natalia’s voice breaks through the haze of my thoughts, and it takes me a few seconds to pull myself out of the memory, to force my mind back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

“Are you okay?” Her hand rests gently on my shoulder before she hugs me tightly.

“I will be.”

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