Page 12 of Voracious

Because I’ve suddenly become the psycho’s fucking bank as well as free housing. The money that fell out of her is enough to cover whatever expenses there’ll be, but I don’t take back my offer and close the door less gently than I was trying to.

FIVE

Ana

Doctors are manipulative little fucks. They pretend to care while covering up the damage that was inflicted. The screams are there in my head from when I was forced to stand in the room and watch while the next generation of money makers came into the world. Having Dima next to me is worse. There’s another person, a chance to take my mind off it, but I know when I open my mouth, I’ll be met with the same expression that everyone has as they wait for me to shut up.

Why the fuck did I leave my bag?

I could have put my book and sticker in my trousers and replaced everything else. Now I’m never going to have steak or the shampoo. I’ve wasted two days finding the perfect restaurant and searching their menu, practicing what I’d order once the bruising goes, just for it to be taken away.

Amon’s tip for him losing control isn’t going to be put to use anymore. I’ll have to sit in a fucking hospital, and they’ll sedate me, push drugs into my body that will fuck with my consciousness. They’ll strap me down again, just like Yulia did. My heart starts beating too fast, my chest and abdomen burning from the force of breathing.I can’t be strapped down orunconscious, then I won’t know what they put inside me. Those were the worst rooms, and no one had blank eyes, they’d wake up confused and justknowthat something was wrong without any information. I have to know things.

Rough fingers scrape against my wrist and gently press against my pulse point as I bring my hands up to my face to reset. The car rolls to a stop and Dima takes both of my wrists in his hands, making circles against my pulse with his thumb and his grumbling voice helps to calm me down.

“Just breathe, hellion, in through your nose out through your mouth.”

Why am I listening to him? He hates me and wants me dead. His exact words were that he’d throw a party before my body is even cold.It would be the first party for me, and he doesn’t know that I like the idea, it means I lived and I’m real if people celebrate my death.

But the circles help, and my breathing is still shallow, however, it’s enough for me to pull away and close the file that keeps being blown open. Whatever gods, fates, or the universe controls death keeps refusing me the peace of having an end. There are so many instances where I nearly died, but the Grim Reaper keeps missing me by a few seconds. Life’s a cruel bitch and death is its mistress, neither of them want me and I’m invincible because I don’t really exist.

I’m not suicidal, by some fucked up miracle or curse, I don’t want to kill myself. If it happens, there’s nothing I can do about it. But after the fifth time of escaping death, acceptance sunk deep into my bones that I can do whatever I want. I’m invincible when it comes to the finale of life until the exact moment it’s supposed to happen. Otherwise, Yulia would have succeeded, getting stabbed at seventeen and stitching myself up in a bus station would have done it, sleeping outside during winter would have done it, and every single time after that should have. Itnever has because life might not have reason, but death has to.Death will make me real, it will prove I existed so it can’t touch me, like a superpower. Huh, I have a superpower.

Dima’s voice is in my ear and his knuckles touch my forehead. “Are you delirious or talking to yourself like you normally do?”

I slowly move my head back and try to punch him, but my body is underwater and moves too slowly.

“Don’t touch me, you ugly freak.”

He doesn’t shout back, he normally does, but he just lets me go and continues driving in silence. It’s too quiet, threatening to open the sorting file, so I speak to chase it away.

“Are you hoping you get to see me die?”

There’s no emotion in my voice other than curiosity. He isn’t a ‘go out of my way to help someone’ kind of person. Vlad wouldn’t have given an order to keep me alive, so he has no justification for his actions. Looking at me from the corner of his eye, he grumbles, “I’m not that fucking lucky.”

My lips move up but his don’t do the same.I don’t think it counts as a smile on my face, it never looks like the sticker when I do it.

He doesn’t go to the nearest hospital but a private one and I push my fists through my pocket to hold the money I have left. A private hospital will be more expensive. Meaning I’ll have to spend more and there are only two more days until TRR host.

I’m so close to my goal. I don’t even think it’s about Nina anymore, she’s just a placeholder for hope.

Pulling up outside of the hospital, he parks like an inconsiderate dickhead and grunts at me to get out. His humanity has run out but it’s better like this. Hate is neutral, nice is frightening. The nicest person I ever met liked the most depraved shit, he was sweet and kind. He always offered me a drink when I’d take the girls for their visits and then he’d sit atthe piano playing the most beautiful pieces while they stared at a wall, waiting for their minds to switch back on.He would buy me things too, nothing expensive or remotely special, but he’d buy me chocolates. Little caramel truffles that were just mine and shoes that didn’t hurt my feet.

I should hate him. I should hate every one of them who gave me memories or interaction. They should turn my stomach and my mind should revolt at the warm feelings. But if I do, my entire life is dark, there are no little sparks. So, I have to separate them, rationalize that the sick cunt who paid €200,000 for a seven-year-old girl to be amputated isn’t the same person who taught me about wine and art. The sick bastard who set his dog on a chained child isn’t the same person who took me on a helicopter ride of his vineyard.

But I can’t do it totally, there’s a part of me that refuses to accept it and knows that I’m not allowed to exist because I helped them. I was there and I trained them all. I took them to the clients, I stayed with them. It doesn’t matter if I wanted it to stop, or if I tried to kill everyone, it wasn’t enough because it still happened and now I’m a ghost.

I’m lost in my conflicting thoughts as we walk into the hospital and the entire room freezes. Eyes full of pity land on me before they go over my shoulder and quickly dart away with disgust. I haven’t seen my face but I’m assuming it’s bad given the reaction.

The only person who dares to look in Dima’s direction doesn’t make it past his chest as a doctor approaches us. My skin crawls despite the warmth he’s trying to put into his smile. And then the temperature turns arctic, and everyone freezes in sheer terror as the doors open behind us. Turning my head to see what’s caused it, I ignore the pain as I roll my eyes.

Great, I’m stuck in a hospital with evil and eviler. Vlad’s hate isn’t cold, he’s what I always imagined in an older brother whenI’ve seen how he interacts with Valentin and Vitali. But I’d kill myself if I was related to the arrogant piece of shit. He doesn’t react to my current state and makes no attempt to lower his voice as we follow the doctor.

“I thought it was Katya, I wasted my time for nothing.”

He can fuck off. I never asked him to be here. I don’t even want to fucking be here.

The doctor doesn’t act like ones I’ve met before. He doesn’t linger or ask about my sexual history, he doesn’t even ask about birth control. He gets even weirder as he hands me a gown and holds the door open, silently instructing evil and eviler to wait outside while I change.

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