Page 14 of Deadly Knight

I want to go in there and hold her. To apologize. Tobe there.

Her father’s eyes dart to the window at the slight thud my palm makes. His lips press together, and I can’t tell if he’s frowning or not.

He looks away, so I never figure it out.

I always believedthe world functioned in colours and shades of every level. Muted and bold, dark and light.

I’ve now learned it doesn’t.

It’s black and white. Good and evil.

People, and the actions we take, all fall into one category. Evil acts are done by evil people. There’s no light to be found within the darkness. No bold colours amongst the grim shades.

I hear voices. The mumbles of my parents and the doctor, though I can’t make out their individual words. It’s like they’re far away.

LikeI’mfar away.

Gone and back in a warehouse, strapped to a mattress, forced to?—

“Next time, take my money.”

I think I flinch. It’s hard to tell, because I’m so numb. So…absent. Gone. Floating.

Warmth strokes over the backs of my fingers. Mama. The talking’s quieted, and I believe it’s only my parents in the room now. My eyes are heavy, but I want to open them.

What do they know? What do they think? How much have they been told?

Do they see me differently now? Sullied.

Because I am.

If they think I’m fine, cured, whole, they’re wrong. How can I open my eyes and face them, face the world, when I can’t even face myself? Face my thoughts, my memories.

My nightmares are encased within black and white. Evil and good. Except—no, not good. None of those men could be considered good.

They stole from me.

Shattered me.

“Katya.”

Mama, I’m coming.

“Did he return?”

He? Dimitri? My heart rate thrums a bit quicker trying to recall the last time I saw him—when he lunged from the chair he was tied to and gathered me in his arms. Everything afterwards is a blur. I don’t recall leaving the warehouse, but I assume we did, because why else would my parents be here?

Unless I’m dead. The men returned and finished the job. Or maybe I’ve simply given up on living.

“This morning. I asked him to wait until we’re home before visiting. I…I can’t right now.” That’s Papa’s response.

“I agree,” Mama whispers, her fingers stroking mine again. “She should decide.”

Decide what? To face the guy I love or send him away? The thought of either option guts me. Face him after everything, knowing his own family was behind it, even if Dimitri himself wasn’t at fault. Or send him away, leaving me empty and hollow without his strength.

Before today, I was an idiot. Every time I told myself it didn’t matter when he was late picking me up because he was learninghow to fight, or when he dealt drugs from the back of his trunk after school…when a part of me was bothered. I looked the other way each time because I cared for him more. Last night, I tried to do the same. I followed him because I was drunk and stupid and so fucking happy and in love and wanted to be with him, no matter the capacity. Standing beside him during another exchange felt so minor compared to everything else.

I shouldn’t have gone after him. Should have stayed by the bonfire like he asked me to.