Page 88 of Sins and Virtue

“I guess you can’t argue with that logic. The folks who adopted me, the Morgans, are kind, good people. They’re even billionaires, so I can’t complain.” Blair’s lips lifted slightly, brushing a hand over her long loose hair as she sighed. “But enough, enough, let’s focus on you. Stop derailing, or else I'll have to resort to other methods.” She pointed her finger menacingly at me.

I wasn’t used to taking anyone’s command except for the Pakhan, yet we weren’t in Russia, and he was dead, so for now I’d indulge her.

“Alright, where was I— ah, yes, the convent. So one icy morning in St. Petersburg, I was found on the steps of a church. The Reverend Mother immediately took me in. The nuns said they had never seen such a beautiful child, so they doted on me. Feed me, bathe me, taught me to pray and the rules and the laws of the Church before I even knew my ABCs.”

Blair let out a snort. “No wonder you came to me with that Law of Confession or whatever,” she waved off.

“The Seal of Confession,” I softly corrected as she rolled her eyes. “But yes, the nuns there taught me how to read, write, and speak in Latin, Russian, and even English all while I watched the other children play outside.”

“Aw, you must have felt lonely.” She cooed like a momma bear, her cheeks all pouty.

“I was fucking bored. Stuck inside twenty-four seven made me so curious about everything outside.” The visions of sitting in front of a chalkboard, watching the Reverend Mother teach me in cursive about the Ten Commandments, made me want to pluck my eyes out. Yet that was one of the best moments. “However, whenever I was able to go outside, I was existentiallyan easy target for the other children. Picked on, laughed at, tossed aside, or outcast. There was once a fight when I was three years old, and I decided to go play outside when mass was going on, and then a group of seven-year-old boys came and attacked me. Punch, kick, cut my face, which is how I got this scar.” I ran a thumb across my left slashed brow.

She lifted her hand curiously, replicating the motion over my brow. One touch of hers washed away any pain or past afflictions. It was a damn cure.

“Those children must have been awful if they caused a deep scar.” She tsked; her lips drew a straight line.

“Well, it was bad enough. I spent an entire week in the hospital.”

Blair gasped loudly, moving the boat an inch and making the water ripple beneath us. “What?”

I caught her hand, settling her down as our hands became intertwined; the electric touch melted between us as I leaned forward, holding us together as she didn’t pull away. The air became livid with tension as heat simmered around my ears and my chest drummed so loud I thought she would hear it.

I continued. “The doctors didn’t really know if I was going to make it. The sisters came by every day and prayed over me. I guess it worked since I’m here in the flesh.”

With her free hand, she playfully hit my shoulder, barely moving me an inch. “Shush, thank God, because who else would harass my existence?”

“Ah, so you enjoy my company, kotyonok?”

“Maybe, just a little, alright?” she admitted, lifting her free hand and pinching her thumb and index finger together. “Someone has to devote themselves to charity, so here I am.”

I fought the incoming smirk on my face. “You weren’t the only one.”

“No?”

“No. There was one incredibly kind and sweet sister there. She was the one who tended to me the most. Sister Dina.”

“Sister Dina?” She pondered the name for a while, blinking intensely like she was connecting the dots. “Was she the reason Dya was named?”

I tilted my head side to side. “Technically, she was the one who gave me— us— the name Dya.”

Her hazel eyes became wide with amazement. “Really?”

“Before I came into my own person, realizing who I was, she was the first to ever acknowledge me. To give me something of my own— a name. So it stuck.”

“You loved her.”

“In a sense, she was the only spot of safety and comfort from the world.”

“She must have been so sad when you left the orphanage?"

“Well, I guarantee she wasn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Because she died before I turned eight.”

Blair leaned back; brutal shock enveloped her face. Her next question was whispered. “She died? How?”