Page 73 of The Tsar's Obsession
Tears settled in my eyes as I listened to this tragedy. “A few weeks later, some older boys went swimming in the local river, and they found her.” He nodded, still keeping his eyes on one spot on the tablecloth. “She was in the river. Her body got stuck in the…ugh…like a fallen tree. We buried her in our village that same day.” He gulped, and I fully regretted asking this over dinner or at all. “Strangely, her body wasn’t decomposed…even though she’d died weeks ago. She had bruises all over her neck, but she looked as beautiful as ever. Like she was asleep.” Kirill stopped again and sighed. His words were becoming more broken up, like he was trying to find the strength to explain the calamity.
“My father, he– ” Kirill shifted in his seat, the tension sharp between us. “He drank. A lot. He was an alcoholic. One day he let it slip. Said that he wasfreenow. That she wasn’t there to hold him back anymore,” Kirill spoke coldly. “I was just a kid, but I wasn’t stupid. I understood. He killed her. So I left home that day.”
Finally, Kirill’s beautiful green eyes met mine in a genuine plea for understanding. “My mom loved me, and I loved her too. Very much. She was beautiful and caring. She was kind and soft and warm. She had a wonderful smile, and she always helped everyone. She was like a ray of sunshine; being in her presence made everything all right.” The details poured out of him, and he leaned in closer to me.
“She protected me and stood up for me. She tried her best to keep our family normal, even if it was anything but. She would take me on walks around the village, barefoot, and tell me about the earth and how much it gave us and loved us. She’d tell me how much she loved me. She always told me she loved me. Maybe she thought that if she drilled it into my head, it would overpower the nightmare of living with my father. I loved her so much. With all my heart.”
My heart. My heart could barely handle this story. Slow, silent tears crawled down his cheeks, his eyes pure, his story terrifying. “She never should’ve married my dad. He made her life hell, but all she ever was…was a light in the darkness.” He sniffled, willing his tears away. “There’s only so much you can do when your partner has an addiction. It takes first place. Your wife and child will always come after,” Kirill mused, a dark chuckle breaking through the tears. “She pleaded with him to stop, and he promised, but…he always relapsed within a few days. She was young when she died. Only twenty-eight.”
Kirill sighed and took a sip of his water. He was done. He wouldn’t say another word on the topic; that much was obvious.
I was certain I was running a high fever from this story and the information that appeared on my desk today. My body was hot, and I wanted to break down into sobs right there at the table.
What the fuck kind of childhood was that?! Why hadn’t he ever told me any of this?! I felt like my forehead was about to explode from the pressure of trying to hold in my tears and from all the rotten thoughts running through my brain.
I thought asking about his relationship with his mother would give me some sort of understanding. Maybe he held a grudge against all women? It was such a stupid thought. I was grasping at straws, but my mind was in disarray.
But after the absolutely devastating story, it was clear that Kirill held his mother in very high regard. Would a man like that hold a grudge against women, using and raping them?
No, but…maybe his painful childhood drove him to hold a grudge against the world and ruin many on his path.
"I'm so sorry, Kirill; that’s a very sad story and childhood." I looked down at the table too, almost whispering. The waiter came to top up our waters, and once he was gone, Kirill leaned over and quietly asked, "Why are you suddenly asking me about my mom?"
Not sure how to formulate my lie, I stuttered, "I don't know...I– I was just curious. What happened to your dad?" At this point I was just genuinely curious to hear how this catastrophe concluded.
"I don't know," Kirill responded, but this time with no pain in his voice. He sounded like he didn’t care. "I never went back. Never. He probably died from alcohol poisoning or burned the house down or something,” he ended, lifting up his hands as if to signify he really had no clue.
The rest of the dinner was excruciating.Not having any idea how to move past this revelation, Kirill’s words and the photos of those supposedly dead women flashed in my eyes, distracting me from reality.
I looked across the table at the man I loved and had the hardest time believing all those things about him. Yet, in a second, it all seemed real again. Kirill’s personality was certainly multifaceted. He was brutal. He was merciless. Hewasa killer. But he was also the most caring, gentle, and considerate man that I had ever been with. His love and passion for me, forus, obliterated everything.
In silence, he drove us home, no doubt suspecting that something big, huge,monumentalwas on my mind.
I took a step inside our home, shaking and unable to hold back. As he was taking off his coat, I turned to him and asked the question,
“Kirill, have you ever raped a woman before?”
32
Inked
Kirill
“Areyoufeelingalright,Mia?” I asked as I opened her car door, but I knew that Mia was anything but alright. She did her best to keep her composure all evening, but it was like something was eating her from the inside.
Everything felt off tonight, and I couldn’t figure out a reason. Our conversation, which usually felt light and flowed easily, was strained, and Mia was jumpy and anxious. But then she blew it out of the water with her sudden question about my mom. And that was just the beginning.
As soon as we stepped inside our apartment, Mia delivered the knockout punch, blinding and deafening me with her next inquiry.What the fuck?!I was taken aback, like she slapped me across the face. What the fuck was going on tonight?!
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" I raised my voice for the first time without even realizing it. Her words cut me deep. Bitterness swirled inside me that she would think such vile things about me. Did I look or act like a fucking animal who raped and tortured women?! How could she even think that?! And why, why wasthatthe question?!
I never lived in delusion; I was a monster, and I knew that. Sins piled onto my conscience, too many to count, and I repentedin front of God and asked for forgiveness every time. Pressing the trigger to extinguish the life of another criminal like me or cheating someone out of their share of drug money wasn’t a sin that I lost sleep over.
My world was brutal, and if I didn’t play by the rules, there was no chance for survival, but I never, ever, had any desire or interest in hurting a woman. No, I didn’t keep any of them for long or truly cared for anyone in the past, but I had never caused a woman deliberate pain or taken something that wasn’t given.
Abuse for fun was not who I was. Principles and strict rules—that’s how I climbed, and that’s how Istayedat the top.
"I have to know, Kirill. Just tell me the truth. I won't let this go." Mia shook slightly in the middle of our living room, her big hazel eyes desperately begging for an answer. For the first time ever, I experienced a negative feeling toward her.
