Page 12 of Nobody Wants Me (Volkov Bratva #5)

The Butcher was helpful, and together we moved the pieces of furniture to the next room. She didn’t comment. There was no judgement, she just accepted it.

As for Victor, I attempted to stay out of my husband’s way, but even that was a challenge.

Sometimes I would bump into him. Not on purpose, but he always shouted at me, and said some bad stuff.

It was like he thought I was trying to be difficult on purpose.

I wasn’t. I did everything I could to avoid him.

It was why I stayed in my sewing room, or went outside to work with Rafael. I didn’t want to be a problem.

The truth was, I wanted to be left alone. I hated that he hated me. I don’t even know why he hated me so much, just that he did. There was nothing I could do to make it right.

So, that was why I had snuck into the library.

He had a resourceful collection of books.

All of my sewing books were back in my sewing room.

The Butcher had gone to run some errands.

I never asked what she was doing or why she was doing them.

I always figured knowing the truth about what she did, was not going to make me happier.

I was a little afraid of what she might say. What if she had spent the afternoon castrating a man? That was not something I wanted to know. She didn’t tell me everything she had done. She had warned me there was a lot she would never tell me. At least she was truthful.

Flicking open one of the classic books, I started to read.

Now, I know classics for the time are amazing.

I loved most of the ones that had also been made into movies, but I struggled with reading.

I also struggled in high school. I tried but it was impossible for me to get into the story.

I always felt there was something wrong with me.

Other people read them, and were always saying how great the writing was.

Putting the book back on the shelf, I tensed up, as I heard him enter the room.

I knew it was Victor because there was a sound he made.

It was one that made me think he had the whole world on his shoulders.

He’d taken one look at me, and it was like I was his biggest burden in his world.

He was pissed off at seeing me. He didn’t want to see me.

All I was doing was standing in the library, not harming anyone, yet I heard it in his exhale.

He doesn’t want me here. We are husband and wife, and so far, he had been a pretty shitty husband.

I closed the book and slid it on the shelf.

Spinning on my heel, I was going to leave the library and not say a word.

Even as my heart raced, I saw the glare on his face that told me all I needed to know.

He hated me. I had gotten that through my head.

To him, I was a horrible human being for even existing.

I got to the door, and he didn’t say a single thing.

And then, I don’t know what came over me.

Maybe it was years of being bullied and accepting the blame for it.

Of being told day after day how ugly I was and how disappointing.

I don’t know if it was because there was a death threat over my head, or the fact for the past week, every time I had even gotten near him—even accidentally—it had set him off, and he’d shout at me.

I was tired of being blamed for something I didn’t do.

“You know what,” I said, speaking aloud.

It seemed to echo around the library room.

“How dare you!” I had never spoken up for anything.

I had just put up with what happened, and dealt with it in that way.

“Do you have any idea how hard this is?” I asked.

“Not once was I asked if I wanted to marry you, and I get that you’re probably used to women throwing themselves at you, but clearly, they don’t know you, because you are a horrible human being.

I didn’t want to be married to you. I was ordered to be here, and now that I am, you hate me.

I get it, but I am not running into you on purpose.

I am doing everything I can to avoid going near you.

Will you please just ... give me a damn break?

You hate me, fine, I hate you as well. But, we’re married, so unless we can get a divorce, we’re stuck.

Stop treating me like I’m causing you problems. I’m doing everything I can to leave you alone! ”

I might have yelled the last part. Anyway, I think I had been pushed to my limit, and I was impressed with myself that I didn’t curse once.

After my outburst, I wanted the floor to open up and completely swallow me whole. I never allowed myself to blurt out how I was feeling. Did I feel better? No. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to kill me right now.

“I wanted to show you something,” he said.

He didn’t look unhappy, but he didn’t look sad either. In fact, I couldn’t quite read his face, and I felt like bursting into tears. This was a nightmare.

“What?” I asked.

“I said I wanted to show you something.”

Was this where he was going to kill me? After what I had just done, I deserved it.

“Okay,” I said.

With each step we passed, I got used to the fact I was going to die. Victor was going to finally kill me, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with The Butcher living in his home. She told me he hated her guts.

It would seem Victor hated everyone. Apart from Umberto and Rafael. I had also seen him laughing and smiling with a couple of the guards, so he clearly didn’t hate everyone. This did not make me feel better as we stepped out into the garden.

My outburst was going to get me killed. This is why I bottled everything up, and then just made quilts and clothes, and whatever else I could get my hands on.

This was terrifying.

I was shaking and felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to cry.

This is how my life ended. At twenty-five, having terrible sex, and only once, without having a large family. Without knowing any kind of love. No one loved me. I was never good enough for anyone. What could I do to stop this from happening?

I followed him to his garden shed, which could have been code for ... torture chamber? I don’t know. I’d been to his shed a couple of times, but never inside. I was not allowed inside. This was his domain and right now, I didn’t want to know what was in there or why.

He was going to kill me.

There was no chance of me finding someone to love, or who would love me.

I’d never have my large family, and I always wanted one.

I knew it was corny, but I wanted a family, where members didn’t really want to leave.

Sure, they left, had families of their own, but always came back, like daily.

I didn’t want to have a family and then watch everyone disappear.

Stepping into the shed, I expected to see dead bodies hanging from the roof, or blood soaking the walls. Instead, it was an actual garden shed, or a crafting shed. I looked around, but that still didn’t help my fear.

“I made this for you,” Victor said.

Spinning around, I quickly looked toward him, and in front of him stood a beautiful cabinet. The wood had been varnished, and it looked so shiny and smooth.

He stood at the cabinet and opened up several of the drawers. “I saw you needed something for your makeup. This will help.”

My makeup was overflowing my vanity, and it didn’t look neat at all. Even The Butcher had been shocked by the state of my makeup collection. I loved everything neat and tidy and clean.

This gift was beautiful. He’d taken time to do this, to ... carve, to craft, to create. I knew it would look stunning in my new closet, and my makeup would look amazing, all spread out, and I would be able to clean it.

But, in that moment, I saw him throw the torn-up quilt. He had thrown my gift into my face. Technically, I could grab a hammer, break this into a thousand splinters, and toss the pieces in his face, but I couldn’t do that.

“No, thank you,” I said instead.

“What?” Victor asked.

I turned on my heel and made my way toward the shed door.

“I don’t need any of your gifts. I just want you to stop yelling when you see me in a room.

I get it, you hate me and don’t want to be married to me.

When you can, find a way to divorce me.” And with that, I left the room and made my way back to the main house.

His gift had been beautiful, and I would have loved to accept it. But I couldn’t. He and I didn’t have that kind of relationship, and we were not going to start now.