Page 117 of Trust

The sound of the impact is loud and satisfying. His gun clatters to the floor.

I kick it under the bed before I get closer to Adam.

“Ilya!” Micah cries out, panic making his voice go high. “I’m okay. I’m okay. Please, don’t do anything you’ll regret. He’s not going to touch me again. He’s not.”

But I catch a glimpse of his body, pale and nude, and I see the welts rising on his skin from where the belt has wrapped around from his back to his stomach.

I remember my mother insisting that my father wasn’t that bad. That it was a mistake, that it would never happen again.

Adam scrambles to stand up. “Shut up, Micah. I’m not done punishing you. I just have to deal with this trash first.”

“No! No, we don’t need to—” Micah’s words catch on a sob. “Please, both of you.” He looks at me, tears streaming down his cheeks. “He’s not—” he begins, but he doesn’t finish what he’s saying. He knows Adamisthat bad, especially now.

He always has, no matter how much he’s lied to himself.

I kick Adam again, this time in the wounded leg. He cries out and lands hard on his knees. Before he can compose himself, I aim my gun at him. “How do you want to die, mudila yubaniy?”

“Ilya!” Micah screams. “Ilya, you can’t! You can’t kill a cop!”

“I can,” I disagree calmly. “A cop is just a man. He bleeds like everybody.” I point to his bleeding leg. “I won’t simply cripple him this time. No more chances to hurt you.”

“You’d go to jail,” Micah pleads, but he sways as he uses the bed to steady himself, and I see red all over again. “They’d kill you for killing a cop.”

“They will!” Adam agrees quickly. “Cop killers get taken seriously around here.”

“Then I should make sure nobody knows I killed you,” I answer, taking aim.

Adam’s eyes widen in fear.

“Don’t do it,” Adam begs. “Please. I won’t bother you again. I swear.”

Pathetic.

My father had been pathetic too, as he was gasping from his heart attack. He’d begged me to call an ambulance. “One-one-two,” he’d repeated, over and over, like I would actually dial emergency services for him.

“Ilya,” Micah whispers. “I don’t want you to die. Please. I’m leaving him. I… I won’t go back this time. I won’t. He’ll leave me alone now.” Even he doesn’t sound like he believes that, though.

I clutch the gun tighter.

Micah doesn’t need to see this man’s brains splattered on the walls.

I lower the gun, engage the safety, and holster it.

“You are lucky Mishka is better man than me,” I sneer at Adam. I turn to Micah and extend my arm out to him. “Let me see you. How bad did he hurt you?”

“Not very,” Micah says, his eyes flicking between me and Adam. He takes my hand, gingerly straightening up. I see his wince, but he bites back any sounds he wants to make. “I’ll be okay.”

“Not very,” I repeat. I don’t believe that for a second. I run my arms gently down his sides, watching Micah’s expression carefully. He bites his lips to suppress the whimpers of pain.

Anger grips me again, but I remind myself that I’m doing this for Micah.

I will be a better man, for Micah.

Micah takes a deep breath, then offers what I know is a forced smile. “Let me get dressed… then we can leave. Okay? It’ll be okay,” he repeats.

I nod and reluctantly let go of him.

He starts getting dressed, but I see movement out of the corner of my eye.