Page 89 of Sins and Virtue
A heavy cloud sat on my chest, recalling the long-forsaken tragedy. “You see, Sister Dina was the sister of the then Pakhan of the Bratva. She was born in a golden cage and a life that held nothing more for her than glorified murder and abuse. Naturally she longed for more, but once she grew of age there was a man who kept harassing her for her hand in marriage. She adamantly refused, but that son of a bitch insisted, and rather than give herself up, she ran away to a convent. Dictating her own fate. Her brother, Igor, supported her. However, it seemed no matter how far she ran, the bastard found her.” A note of discord ran through my voice, the inflection scarring me forever.
“One day, he showed up at the church in the middle of mass, going on a rampage about how he had finally found her after somany years and after all his hard work. He demanded what was his, thatfuckingasshole! He brought some of his rookies as he threatened to take her by force, but unknown to him the Pahkan was there with his forces, and soon a whole shoot-out began. The whole congregation went into a frenzy as everyone ran for cover. Sister Dina took me with her. We ran and ran, almost making it to her room safely as she tried to close the door, but there he appeared with two other men. They approached us and snatched me from her as she tried to fight— to hold onto me— but they overpowered her and threw me to the other end of the room as they began to beat and stomp on me. Their fist barreled into me as the other bastard cornered Sister Dina and held her by her throat, threatening to take her right then and there because after that shame she would be forced to marry him just to preserve her dignity. Somewhere, gunshots were fired, and something in me fractured. As one of them dropped the knife he carried and turned their back, so much rage and hatred exploded that I took the knife, stood up, and stabbed it into the man's back. The next in his femur. And the last bastard in his carotid artery. Stabbing and puncturing over and over, opening more wounds, unleashing all the abuse, mistreatment, and dirty looks everyone threw at me. Fisting his collar, I watched the light leave his eyes as my face was the last one he would ever see.” I tightened my palms in Blair’s hands, imagining the blood dripping from them.
The first man I’d killed was a mistake. The second was a choice.
That didn’t matter.
Once your hands were soaked in blood, the monster lived in you forever.
“Ouch,” Blair winced, the skin around her eyes tightened with pain as I realized my hands were crushing hers. My emotions were subconsciously being misdirected outside of my body, and that’s when I usually lost control.
Immediately, I let go. “Sorry, kotyonok. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never.”
She pressed her lips together into a faint smile as she used her hands to massage the other. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. It was an involuntary reaction to such a heartbreaking memory.”
I shook my head; the harmful action felt so wrong. Especially because I did it to her. “It’s still no excuse to hurt you.”
She ran a hand over her lap as she reached out and grabbed mine, overlapping them again. The colliding spark patiently attached underneath. “I trust you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she vaguely confided.
Her trust was a sacred thing.
It was the sweetest words that made me profoundly enamored.
Ripples of tense waves remain near my sternum.
“So tell me what happened after that?” She gave me a gentle push to go on.
A rough breath left my lips, my mind fading, my body shrinking, and it all went off.
“Dya, no!” She screamed so dauntingly, it became a haunted memory.
I watched her— her pale face, brown eyes, raven hair settled with the long black knee-length dress—slowly run down the wall onto the floor, blood gushing from somewhere out of her stomach.
No. No. No.
Dropping the knife to the ground, I screamed, running to her side. “Sister!” Placing my hands over the injury as I tried to stop the bleeding as they taught me in first aid. “Please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bad boy.”
“You shouldn’t need to do that, Dya.” Sister Dina's reprimand came out weakly.
Hot saltiness burned in the back of my eyes. My voice cracked, “I’m so sorry. I only wanted to protect you.”
She smiled weakly, slowly cupping my cheek. “I know, sweet boy. Although what you did was brave, that’s not who you are.”
“I don’t know who I am.”
“Yes, you do.” She softly touched my wrist, pointing to the woven bracelet I’ve had on me ever since I can remember.
“You’re all I know. You’re all I have.” My voice broke with fear. Pressing my hands harder as the bright red blood trickled down my fingers.
There’s too much.
“Not for long.” She hummed.
On a whim, a scary large man appeared in the entryway with a gun in his hand. His face covered in scars, his eyes terrifyingly black as he wore his Sunday best: an all-black suit and similarly colored shoes. His features widened with panic and distress as his hand began to shake.
He rushed in, dropping the gun behind him, finally kneeling to her side. “Dina. Dina, look at me,” Igor screamed, his hands cupping her pale face.
She stuttered, her lips already turning purple. “I–Igoryasha, it’s okay.”