Page 17 of Shadows of the Past
Finally, he shows me a program he wrote himself, which can locate anyone using traffic cameras, gas station video surveillance systems, and even security cameras from neighbors connected to the internet.
That’s how I find my uncle, in a photo taken ten hours ago, in Ciudad de Mexico at a playground, and with him...Lupe and Amalia.
I can’t see their faces clearly, but it’s them. And they seem fine. I know what this means. The fact that they’re with my uncle now means my parents didn’t escape.
A wave of sadness settles in my chest, and for a few seconds, I struggle to breathe. All the memories of them. All the advice, laughter, and smiles. My mom’s shrieks when thetwins misbehaved, my dad’s laughter when he defended them. It’s all gone. Everything is lost, and my compass in life has been upended. They were my stars, my light at the end of the tunnel. During all the days I spent on that ship to get here, I focused so much on the twins, on their safety, that I hadn’t had time to mourn my parents. I already had a void left by what happened with Martin. Now, this void has grown, and I feel like instead of a functioning heart, I have a black hole that absorbs everything.
“Julia.” The firm tone jars me out of my thoughts.
When I look up, Maksim's gaze is icy.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said,” I reply, avoiding his eyes.
I can't look at him, not when I feel like I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Not when I want to curl up in a corner and weep endlessly. I have to bite my lower lip to stop the tears from spilling onto my face.
I'm alone. I'm in a country I know nothing about. I'm surrounded by predators. No one is coming for me. My uncle thinks I'm dead too.
These realizations hit me all at once, and every fiber in my body screams to let all this pain out. To let all this despair envelop me, and maybe, just maybe, it won’t hurt as much afterward.
Why can’t I breathe? Why do I feel like there’s a claw in my chest?
I feel warmth around my hand, and when I glance down, I see a rugged palm enveloping my skin. I dare not lift my head, but his body exudes so much warmth that some of my trembling subsides, soothed by his touch.
“Breathe, Julia. It will pass. It will get better. At some point, it won’t hurt to breathe anymore. I promise,” I hear a hint of regret in his voice, but also a certainty in his tone.
He’s experienced this too, this feeling of having something ripped apart in your chest, something that doesn’t let you draw enough air into your lungs.
“They left me alone,” I whisper, knowing it’s unfair, but it’s exactly what I feel. I’d hoped maybe they managed to escape before the explosion.
I have the girls to care for, but I’m not prepared to take care of them. And if I somehow manage to escape from here, I don’t know how I’d cope alone with them. Maybe everything I’ve been through is the universe’s message that they're better off without me.
“You have two reasons to fight. That’s more than many people get from life.”
I want to ask him if he has someone to fight for in this world, but I see the answer on his face.
Compared to him, I’m pathetic.
A foolish girl who couldn’t defend herself before being raped, a foolish child who went back to that burning house instead of going to the police.
TONTA!
“You can argue with your subconscious all you want, but it won’t change the present. If you want to see them again, kotenok, unsheathe your claws and don’t let anyone see you at your weakest,” he says with an informal tone and no trace of compassion.
Something tells me that's just how he is.
“Kotenok?” I glance up at him with a frown.
I hope he hasn't given me some ridiculous nickname.
“You can figure that out yourself. Go to sleep; we have work tomorrow,” he says with a hint of amusement. I watch him head to the bathroom to change, and I exhale.
It takes me just three seconds to type the word, and despite my poor typing, I translate what he said. Little cat.
If anyone else called me that, I might have unsheathed my claws on them, but coming from my Russian soldier, who has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, I can’t help but smile slightly.
My Russian soldier? When did he become mine?
When he returns, I’m already in bed and realize we’re sharing it. I see him stop abruptly, apparently realizing it too. We’re sharing a bed tonight. Every night.
