Page 113 of Sins and Virtue

“One sec.” I turned my body, reaching my hand out and slipping it underneath the pillows, taking the only thing I had left of my baby. Retrieving the wallet-size portrait, I brought it to my chest, trying to pretend to hold him. The only comfort I could get.

One large sigh released from my chest as I finally held it out for Konstantin to see. “This is my son.” The picture was taken on a lazy Sunday as one-year-old Ollie sat on his stomach, his elbows on the bed, as he cupped his own chubby cheeks as Sesame Street was in the back. It was the ideal opportunity to take the photo.

A brief smile touched his lips, almost prideful. “He looks like you.”

“He does, doesn’t he? I think it’s the green eyes.”

“How old is he?”

“In the photo he was one. He must be turning three soon.”

“Well, he definitely is his mother’s son.”

“Mmhm,” I accepted the compliment, yet I didn’t feel worthy enough to be called “his mother.”

“Blair, what’s wrong?”

Pent-up sadness bawled into my throat, making it nearly impossible to talk as I fought against it. “I always think, how could it be okay for a child to be away from his mother? And if he even remembers me? Or will he remember my face or my voice? When he’s all grown, will he hate me for walking away?”

A dark, ominous shadow crawled up from the ground, standing over my shoulder, and began to take the form of that man with a gaping hole in his head, staring at me with bloodshot eyes and a maniacal rage scold. He was also there. Watching. Judging. Condemning my soul. Sentencing to a fate worse than death … living without my child.

“You didn’t walk away, Blair. You were trying to keep him safe.”

“Still,” I argued. “It doesn’t feel like I did a very good job.”

“Blair, you were assaulted, nearly raped, and in a moment of life or death, you chose to save your son. Whether that be at the expense of a bastard's life, so be it.”

“I—”

“You didn’t kill him. You defended yourself. You saved your son.”

“Still, I didn’t have to do it.” I began shaking my head; the back of my eyes started to burn. “Sometimes I think maybe I enticed him. Maybe something I said or wore. Maybe if I kept my mouth shut… he wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have…” My voice was brittle, breaking with conflict. My eyes fogged up as I couldn’t help but cry.

“No, no.” He cupped my face, wiping the falling parade of tears with his thumb. “It’s not your fault. Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. You were trying to survive, and anyone would have done the same.”

A cloud of hopelessness sat on my shoulders, contemplating what would have happened if I didn’t press the trigger. It felt like the inevitable end to an unpreventable tragedy.

“Blair?”

“Mmhm.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“About the murder, I already told you—”

“No,kotyonok, not that. I mean the assault. You barely talked about that part, but I want to know if you’ve processed it. Or do you still need time? Whatever you need, I’ll be there, waiting.” He rasped with sincere and heavy longing.

Most of that damned night was a blur, my memory a broken fragment of a nightmare that consumed me. What remained were the screeches and terrified cries of my child seeing mebeing dragged, beaten with my mouth clamped shut as my clothes were being torn apart. And when he couldn’t get what he wanted, he turned to my baby… my baby… and he was going to ruin him for my disobedience and protest. And I knew I had no further choice. It was kill or be killed. And I snapped, got the gun, and shot him.

“Even if that means forever?” My question wasn’t a test or mind game but an honest inquiry because I was still so young. I had my whole life in front of me and I hadn’t got a clue what I wanted to do. And even then, it would take a while to accept what had happened to me… to my son.

“Forever.” He leaned in, dropping his forehead to mine, and right then and there for a moment, it felt like I wasn’t alone. His strength was my own.

Several beats passed as he added, “Blair, leave here.”

Gazing up at him through my wet lashes, searching his deep blue stare, wondering in the infinite impossibilities. “How? How am I going to leave?”

“With me. Come with me, Blair. Let’s leave here together.” He gave me the offer my heart most desired.