"I am from there. I am from here. I am not there and I am not here. I have two names, which meet and part, and I have two languages. I forget which of them I dream in". ~MD.
Vasilisa Smirnov
"We know you're a whore, Lisa," Gretchen yelled from across the hallway. "But keep your whoring away from us. Some of us with decency are not comfortable with men seeing our private parts.".
A whole score of them yelled words of encouragement as I fumbled with the keys to my apartment, wanting nothing more than to step inside and shut their annoying voices out.
The lock clicked twice, but a certain gloved hand wrapped around my arm before I could tug at the door handle. A scoff escaped my lips as he pulled me away from the door with a distasteful glare.
"You wait for my approval before stepping into any room," he barked out in a clipped tone, reaching over to pull the door, venturing without a single regard for me.
"It's clear; come in," he ordered, reaching out to grab me before I could even speak.
The door shuts with a resonating thud as I stare up at his stationary form. He had resumed his stance by the door, with his arms behind his back and his face turned towards the sky.
I sighed in disbelief, the words I wanted to spew out flying back into my throat. You know what Lisa?. It's only satisfactory when he gets a reaction out of you.
I marched towards the bed, reaching under to grab my safe. I must have forgotten the state of my body due to my anger because the sharp pain resonating in my abdomen made me halt in my motions.
"Fuck," I whispered, clutching my stomach in the process. I still managed to pull the safe out, placing it into one of the cardboard boxes that now littered my bedroom.
My father must have sent them here; it was convenient because all I had to do was sort my belongings into the labeled boxes and leave them for the moving team to sort it out and deliver it to my home address.
There was nothing much to pack up in my sparse and barely decorated room except my clothes, a few books and crockery, and then the huge fridge and television I had never used since my first year in college.
The tension in the room was thick enough to choke me. My father had hired a bodyguard—no, a babysitter—who couldn't even be bothered to help me pack my things, despite knowing damn well I was injured. My stomach ached with every breath, every movement, but Alexei just stood there, all brooding and silent, watching me struggle.
I hated him for it. His indifference, the way he looked straight at me with that pitiful and disapproving expression, like I was some child he was forced to protect.
My teeth clenched instinctively as I reached out to pull the sheets off my bed, the pain rising to an almost unbearable limit.
"Sit down." His voice cut through the silence like a sword brandished at the ready.
I frozen, turning to glare at him. "Mind your fucking business," I spat, refusing to show any weakness. My pride wouldn't let me admit I needed help, especially not from him.
His dark eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything more. Instead, he stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. Without warning, his hand gripped my arm, firm but careful, pulling me away from the bed. "Sit the fuck down."
"Let go of me!" I snapped, trying to yank my arm free. But he was stronger—so much stronger than I'd anticipated. He pushed me towards the chair, with his hands clasped tightly on either side of my shoulder.
The audacity!
I tried to get up, pushing against his hold, but in an instant, Alexei was kneeling in front of me, grabbing a piece of cloth from one of my packed bags. My eyes widened in disbelief as he quickly, expertly tied it around me, securing me to the chair.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I shouted, struggling against the makeshift restraints.
"Keeping you still," he replied, his voice maddeningly calm. "You're going to hurt yourself."
I thrashed against the cloth, more out of anger than any real hope of escape. "Untie me, Alexei! I swear to God, I will—"
"You'll what?" His gaze pierced through me, sharp and unwavering. "You're bleeding."
I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. Slowly, I looked down at my stomach, and sure enough, a dark red stain was seeping through my bandage. My stomach twisted—not just from the pain, but from the realization that I had been too stubborn to notice how badly I'd aggravated the wound.
Damn it.
I clenched my fists, feeling the heat of frustration and embarrassment burn my cheeks. Alexei was right. I hated that he was right. But even more than that, I hated the way his hands, still holding me in place, made my skin tingle. I couldn't deny it—the strange, unwelcome flutter that stirred in my chest at his closeness. His presence was overwhelming; the quiet dominance he exuded sent my pulse into a confusing rhythm.
The room wasn't just filled with anger anymore. There was something else—a tension that made my breath catch for entirely different reasons.
He leaned in closer, his face unreadable but intense. "Stop struggling," he murmured, his voice low. "You'll only make it worse."
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. His hand lingered just above my stomach, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the warmth of his skin. I wanted to scream at him, to curse him for treating me like this. But my body... my body betrayed me, reacting to the way his authority made me feel both safe and infuriated at the same time.
"I don't need your help," I whispered, even though part of me knew it was a lie.
Alexei didn't respond, but his gaze softened—just for a moment—before hardening again. "Tell that to your father," he said quietly, rising to his feet. "Do not try to struggle."
I stayed silent, my mind a swirl of conflicting emotions. The pain in my stomach, the frustration at my own helplessness, and the infuriating awareness of Alexei's closeness all mixed together in a dizzying blur.
His lethal figure moved towards my closet, grabbing a box from the side—a certain black box that I had forgotten to lock.
My throat parched immediately as the sudden realization of the contents of that box shook me like a fucking hurricane. I would be darned dead if I let him see the contents of the box.