Page 3 of Mafia and Scars

And nine out of ten is high.

But the thoughts just won’t stop. Because my thoughts are out of control. They’re like high-speed trains hurtling inside my head. Again and again at top speed. Flying by too fast and too close to one another. Each with their blaring horns and screeching wheels along the tracks. And each thought nearly colliding with all the others.

My thoughts are always monochrome images in my mind. Black and white as they blur by. But never in color like the real world.

If I let them, these thoughts will overpower and debilitate me. Every day is similar to this. And all of it is utterly exhausting.

My hand drags through my dark hair, disheveling it further, and I sigh. Grigory will be here soon, and then we’re back onto the streets. Back to doing whatever we can to survive. But the hurtling out-of-control thoughts in my head never stop. And I just wish they would.

“Viktor.”

The calling of my name has my head turning toward Grigory as he waves at me from the door of the library. I nod in acknowledgment.Shoving my notebook into my pocket once more, I stand. I don’t want to leave right now because I think I’ve almost found the answer, but I know the library is closing in five minutes, so I have no choice.

Befriending Grigory might just have been the best choice I’ve made in a long time. Not because he offered me some saving grace out of this life. Grigory is just as out of luck as the rest of us. But he’s earned my loyalty. My trust. He’s basically my brother.Family.

It’s a bitter word. I’m not sure I know how to understand it really, but the word fits what we are right now.

I tug the collar of my jacket up to shield from the snow that’s flurrying down. The thick flakes are nearly blinding. But even that static-like effect in front of my eyes doesn’t stop the way my thoughts zoom in my head. Even as we duck our heads and walk through the streets, the thoughts whirl nonstop. Over and over.

I grit my teeth. It can’t be normal, can it? To have your thoughts race through your mind in a constant sprint, too fast to latch on to but there all the same. At all hours of the day. And for every thought to be a black and white image in my mind. That can’t be right, can it?

My eyes shift to Grigory who’s shielding his face. He doesn’t seem to be plagued by his thoughts the way I am. But who can tell just by looking at someone? Behind those eyes of his, there’s more than he lets on. It’s why we get on as well as we do. Similar and yet not.

“This way,” he says, jerking his head to the side as he dips down an alley.

It’s slick, and my feet shuffle on the ice patch as we stride through the alley and come upon another equally crowded street. We hustle with the bodies, moving in and out with a nimbleness only those who grew up on the streets seem to have.

We stop just outside a brownstone dusted with snow. The windows are dusty and boarded up, and a quick look between the small gaps in the wood makes it look like no one’s been home in weeks.

I arch a brow. “It looks good.” Someone who’s away from home. They’ve boarded up the windows for security, but it’ll take more than that to stop us.

I don’t say anything while he slides up to the door. I lean against the stone railing, arms crossed and on lookout. It’s a system that we don’t even need to talk about. We’ve done this so many times that it just comes automatically as we work in tandem.

The door pops open, and Grigory slips inside. I duck in beside him, swatting at the cobweb I nearly walk into.

“How’d you know about?—”

“You know,” he replies.

I do know. Information doesn’t come cheap, but Grigory has a way of obtaining it. I admire that in him.

I shut the door behind me as Grigory rummages through the barren place looking for something we can steal or sell for some money. We’ve gotten really good at this. All four of us have.

“I think we can hit that deli down the street before we head back home,” he says.

I nod as he turns back to what he’s doing. And before long, we leave with a duffle bag filled with stuff. It doesn’t take us too long to sell it, pocket the cash, and get some food for everyone. A real meal.

Later, with my belly full, two blankets draped over me, and a small simmering fire roaring in the stove, I lay on the floor in the kitchen. Matvey and Nikolai have long since passed out. “Grigory?” I murmur.

“Hmm?”

I don’t even know how to ask him. But I need to say it. “When you think…about anything, do you have a lot of them? Thoughts?”

I hear him shift closer to the heat. “Sometimes.”

“Do all your thoughts come at once?”

“Not usually. You know, you think about one thing, and then your mind shifts onto another thought.”