Page 88 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

I recognized the faces I saw, but I didn’t feel like I knew them anymore. They’d taken on strange characteristics. Inhuman shapes. Monstrous proportions.

But the thing that brought me back to consciousness was my own face. In the dream, I came across a puddle in the desert. An oasis. I leaned over the edge, looked into the reflective surface…

And saw myself.

In the reflection, I was a monster, too.

Blood dripping from my eyes. Teeth pulled back like some sort of banshee. Hair torn off my head in large chunks that left raw scalp on display.

I woke up gasping, scared to even close my eyes again. But Theo calmed me down. He woke up moments after I did, reaching out to stroke my face with his soft fingers.

Like he’s saying,It’s okay, Mama. Everything is okay.

Moving quietly in the early morning stillness, I get out of bed and take my son with me. He fusses a little, but he doesn’t start crying until we’re in the bathroom. The doors and walls are thick enough that I’m not worried about disturbing Charity. She needs rest to heal.

I prepare the bathtub and strip down. Then I slip into the warm water, taking Theo with me. I stare up into the ceiling as I soak, still afraid to even blink too long lest I see that image of my own face again.

We float around for about twenty minutes before it gets tiring supporting him in the water. Then I get out and towel us both off.

Once he’s got a fresh diaper on, I pull out a soft blue onesie with little sharks all over it. Then I slip him into the baby carrier, which has turned out to be a godsend.

The small pile of clothes that Phoenix had sent for Charity and me sits in the corner of the bathroom where I’d moved them earlier. I rifle through and pull out a pair of stylish black jeans and a light grey sweater.

Fully dressed, I grab the baby carrier and slip through the room and towards the door. I probably should just stick to the bedroom, but the idea of being confined to one space makes me feel claustrophobic.

So I just wander around for a while until my arms start to complain. I find myself on the first floor when I smell something cooking. I decide to follow the scent of food.

“Hello, dear,” comes a voice as I enter the kitchen.

I snap my head to the side in surprise as Anna shuffles into my view from a door to the side. “Sorry!” I yelp. “Didn’t see you there.”

“That’s alright. I was just in the pantry.” She gestures behind her to the pantry, which seems like a wildly insufficient word for the space. It’s as big as my room at the shelter and stocked deep with enough food to survive a nuclear holocaust.

Shifting my gaze to the appliances, I notice that two of the six stovetops are currently occupied. I can smell sausages and bacon.

“How about some breakfast?” she offers.

I smile gratefully. “Yes, please.”

I heave Theo’s baby carrier onto the endless kitchen island. Then I pull out his milk bottle and hold it up to his mouth.

Anna looks at him fondly as she tends to the cooking food. “What a beauty. He looks so much like little Yuri.”

“Yuri?” I ask. “Is that your son?”

“Oh, no, no,” Anna demurs, her expression faltering a little. “My son’s name was Adrian. My daughter was Kara.”

“You have two children?”

“Can you say you have two children if you don’t know where they are or what they’re doing with their lives?” she asks mildly.

I’m lucky I have to concentrate on feeding Theo; otherwise, I might have not known where to look.

“Oh…”

I don’t ask for an explanation, but she offers it up easily. “I was stolen when I was in my early twenties.”

Her voice is placid. Unbothered. It’s as though it happened so long ago that all the emotion has been rubbed from the memory.

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