Page 101 of Volatile

I was the one who told Viktor to ask for more money.

Val’s always had an issue with his fucking mouth and he innocently fires back, “Listen, no one tells you that teenagers are fucking brutal. You’ll understand one day.”

Dickhead.

His voice lowers as he realizes what the fuck he’s just said and gives an apology the only way our family know how.

“Shit, I didn’t mean it.”

I push away from him, drugs be damned because I’ll find somewhere else to get them from, they won’t be fucking detox drugs either. They’ll allow me to stop the pain and have a numbness that isn’t fucking sinking me.

“Fuck you,” I mutter and turn.

The lonely prick wraps his arms around me and says, “Tali, don’t be a dick. I didn’t think, it’s on me.”

I nod, weakly, and whisper, “My girl is like a ghost and I can’t stop it, I can’t stop thinking.”

“I’ll tell Dani to sit with her. You know she’s good at talking to people. And whatever you’re thinking about, just don’t.”

He knows all of my theories, all the stupid thoughts and mental jigsaw pieces I’d obsess over from our childhood in an attempt to smooth down the edges of our parents so I could understand them. It’s fucking stupid, but I always thought if I could understand them then I’d understand myself. I’m not like Val who can turn parts of his memories off, he can stop himself thinking and asking questions, and I’m not like Vlad who craves other people’s blood to write over my own. I itch for answers, knowledge of why, it’s a dumb fucking question when the truth will always be because someone could.

Len beat us — because he could.

Anika treated us like shit — because she could.

My girl was fucking beaten — because they could. Because I couldn’t stop them. Because I’m weak.

Maybe that’s the real answer, the identifying factor to why everything I have fucks up. Weakness.

Val allows me to step back and he dips his head, catching my eyes, to ask, “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

“I’d probably fuck it up anyway,” I scoff.

His eyes turn glassy and his tone hardens as he grits, “Shut the fuck up. Do you want them fuckers to win? They’re both dead, we’re alive, we get to have whatever the fuck we want.”

I nod, unconvinced, and hold my hand out for my pills. Before they can be dropped in my hand, my phone vibrates in my pocket and fear spikes through me at the thought of my girl being hurt again. But the name on the screen is Zidane’s and we don’t have any drops scheduled so I answer, already pissed at the distraction as he says, “There’s a girl here saying she knows you.”

“What’s her name?”

I don’t know any girls and he argues with someone before he puts it on speaker and I grit, “Who the fuck are you?”

Kristi’s voice comes through, full of her usual brand of angry cockiness as she gives me shit.

“Your only friend, now tell these pricks to get the fuck off me.”

Fuck. I haven’t been checking on her when I promised her that I would. Another fucking person I can’t protect or help.

“She’s under Vartanov protection, lay a fucking finger on her and you’ll have a problem.”

I end the call and Val stares at me as he asks, “Stasi?”

Shaking my head, I move past him to find the cunt who has the little shit who’s my sister in everything other than blood. Val follows me, the stone crunching under his feet, and my eyes sting as I pull open the side door the fighters use. Zidane always has the room closest to the exit and heat covers my back as I enter to see a grown fucking man holding Kristi bound with her coat wrapped around her forearms.

“Let her go,” I order as she smiles up at him, smug as ever.

“Yeah, let me go, you old fuck.”

He shakes her, his nostrils flaring, and sneers, “She took something that belongs to me.” He looks down at her like she’s a piece of shit. “You can either return it or I’ll have you arrested, you little thief.”

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