Page 24 of Ruinous Need

LISETTE

I’M NOW AT the stage of endo pain where the ache in my stomach is easing, but not enough that I can sleep easily.

I consider taking another painkiller but set the bottle down.

I don’t like the way they make me feel drowsy. The brain fog from endo is enough to deal with on its own, without feeling numb and glassy on top of it.

With my head foggy for the last few days, the situation with Viktor has become even more muddled.

When he touches me, it’s like he never wants to let me go. And he clearly feels strongly about me, or he wouldn’t be so angry whenever he believes my safety is at risk.

But every time I say something to him approaching affection, he clams up and walks away. His tenderness the other night was followed by standoffishness. He dropped the painkillers off, kissed my forehead, and then looked like he hated himself.

Then I woke up last night, and he was cradling me while I sobbed with pain. It helps, to have him there, and I want to believe it means he really does feel something.

The back and forth gives me whiplash.

“Viktor.” I drag him down to the couch to sit beside me. Even while I’m in pain, I don’t like to stay in my room.

At least if I’m out here there’s a chance that I get to see him.

I take a deep breath. “I feel like you’ve been withdrawn since I told you about my endo.”

Pain flashes across his face. “I hurt you.”

“But there was no way you could’ve known. You didn’t do anything wrong. I enjoyed the sex, a lot.”

Heat colors in my cheeks as I remember the way he gripped my hips while he drove into me. “I like it rough and my endo changes nothing. All I need is for you to listen to me, if I tell you that it’s too much.”

“Of course.” He nods quickly and relaxes a little. “I worry that I’ll hurt you. I always end up hurting the people I love, or putting them in danger.”

I snuggle against him and he wraps an arm around me. “It hurts me more when you act like I don’t exist. That’s worse than this.”

“How is the pain now?”

I make a face. “A little better. I think my period is on the way, so it’s always a tricky time, anyway. When I was doing ballet, it was always hard to explain why I would disappear from rehearsals at least once a month.”

“Is that why you stopped?”

“How do you know that?”

He scoffs at that, pinching my arm. “I followed you for a week, Lisette. I know a lot about you. I saw you teaching. I never saw you rehearsing.”

“I stopped…” My throat gets tight. My voice comes out in a croaky whisper.

Every time I think about it, I’m a terrified 18-year-old again, overwhelmed by the chance to save her mother and at the thought that she’ll be ripped away from her family forever.

I take a deep breath. It happened. I’ve accepted it. And now that I’m weeks away from my fate, there’s no changing it.

“The Pakhan chose me while I was dancing in my first show for the New York City Ballet. Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring.”

I wince when I think about it. My casting was controversial. I was young, and inexperienced, and when I missed rehearsals because of my endo flare-ups… The older dancers would make fun of me. Saying that I was a child who should go back to high school and get out of their way.

Kyle was my only supporter. He was popular with the others, but he was also kind to me, reminding me they were speaking like that because they were jealous.

Once I performed, I would prove them all wrong, he told me. That’s what the choreographer and producers told me as well. I couldn’t help but feel that those experienced dancers must be right, anyway. I felt like I wasn’t good enough to be there.

“At first, he just left a ton of flowers in my dressing room. Which was nice. I had no fans, so the positive response overwhelmed me. I thought he was… I don’t know, a powerful admirer. We never spoke, but I recognized him.”

“And then he asked you on a date?”

I shake my head, confused. Maybe it’s the brain fog, but it seems like Viktor believes I wanted to get engaged to Semyon at eighteen.

“I wouldn’t have said yes to that. I’ve met him once, Viktor.”

He’s silent for a moment. “I thought… It doesn’t matter. How did you get engaged, then?”

“I came home on a Monday, which was the one day we had off from performing, and he was there, talking to my father. I’ll never forget how my father looked.

Not terrified, even though Semyon had brought this giant guard with him.

My father looked guilty when he made eye contact with me.

I knew then that something bad was about to happen. ”

Viktor’s hands tighten around me. “I see. He made your father an offer.”

I nod, unable to stop the tears from falling now. “Mom was sick. Cancer. Nothing was making it go into remission. Semyon could get the miracle drug, which would have cost us millions.”

Viktor wipes away my tears. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lisette.”

“And all I had to do was marry him. I agreed, because my mother’s life was at stake.”

Viktor’s hands are steady on my shoulders, his breathing even. Only his eyes reveal the rage burning inside him.

“I quit the City Ballet once he chose me. My professional ballet career lasted all of one week.” I can’t help the bitterness creeping into my voice. “I couldn’t perform anymore. Because of him. But I thought it might have the added bonus of putting him off.”

I’d tried to perform, the day after the Pakhan showed up at my house, and had a panic attack on stage.

I still remember it vividly, the confused ripple that ran through the crowd when I fell to my knees and stopped moving, on all fours as I gasped but the air never seemed to reach my lungs. I thought my heart was going to stop beating.

Kyle carried me off-stage. Another dancer got into costume and replaced me.

To this day, the rest of the company believe that I couldn’t handle the pressure of dancing.

“It didn’t work,” Viktor says softly.

“No, it didn’t.”

My mouth twists down with regret as I remember my wild hope that I could put Semyon off.

My father had managed to convince him to wait until I was twenty-one.

The first year of the engagement, I really believed he might give up.

That I might have enough power in the situation to force his attention away.

“Nothing did. I dyed my hair, pierced my nose, gained weight, got a tattoo. Still, he was determined to have me. My father delayed the arrangement for as long as possible. But I guess the Pakhan is sick of waiting.”

“He is.”

“And you still want to do his dirty work for him?”

Viktor freezes, looking into the distance before a long time before he finally speaks. “That’s my job.”

My hands curl into fists. I huff a laugh through my nose. “You know what’s ironic?”

He raises his dark eyebrows at me, but he won’t meet my eyes.

“The Rite of Spring is about a young woman being chosen to dance herself to death in front of a group of men. She has no choice in it, she’s just selected as the sacrifice, her life ruined, because they want to appease some Russian god who doesn’t exist.”