SERAPHIC BLISS

32. Waste of Fine Vodka

Victoria has become very familiar with hospital interiors.

They are all similar , regardless of the changed those in charge if refurbishment deem personal : all of them sterile , all of them reeking a smell of anesthetics. Looking down , she appreciates the sweatshirt and comfy sweatpants that Ace brought for her , a better replacement from the papery hospital gown. She first saw Ace , on her first day of consciousness , three weeks ago. From what she had been told , the metal had struck the back of her neck a fracture in her head.

She had slipped in and out for the last three weeks ago , she was now moveable in her actions. The last day Ace Lavitsky visited , she mentioned that she would make her escape on the following Monday , assuming her legs can bear the weight. He informed her that he had noticed an exit , two doors down-which after a few moments of exploring lead him to the parking. When she asked him , where he was stay , his smile dropped.

He reveals that he was returning to Moscow for the next three months for business and would not be returning to London for the interim and she had smiled through the harsh twist in her stomach. He also discloses that when she makes her escape , Myla will be at her residence , helping her come to Moscow and providing her with fake identities.

She is brought back to reality by the clatter of a hospital bed passing , she swings her feet to either side of the bed and climbs off . There is a knack to escape she had learned from her father. You must look authorities and purposeful. Ultimately she passes through the door , entering the pin Ace gave her (courtesy of his flirting session with the nurses) and reached the metal stairways leading to the car parking.

The cold air is refreshing against her cheeks.

Her body aches as she holds out her hand to hail a cab.

In the hospital , Ace has given Victoria her phone back , and although her inbox was flooded with client requests , her fingers swiftly swipe over Lucas's contact. No attempt of communication was made. As the cab halts at her building , she hands the driver some change and makes her way inside , her body on the brink of sleep.

There are muffled voices of two individuals conversing, she puts her ear to the wood , the voices are barely audible. It is only the when she softly opens the door , the words take meaning.

One of them has a Russian accent , Victoria is quick to realize it as Myla. Her voice is slightly shaking , but her tone is focused and determined.

"Listen to me" Myla inhales sharply "You have a lot to lose , a husband and a child , But if you kill me....Mr. Lavitsky will find out and he will simply slip away. Victoria will be here any minute now..."

"I can't risk that"

Upon hearing Martha's uncharacteristically cool voice , Victoria decided to make her entrance. Their heads turn , and Martha's fingers tense around the trigger , but the barrel of gun is pointed at Myla who stands with her hands up in surrender. Martha is in her usual clothes printed blouse and jeans , but her eyes are hollowed out and she is thinner , much thinner.

"Stand by the door , Victoria" Martha warns

A foreign darkness crosses her eyes , her posture relaxes-no longer is she tensed , and the aching in her body barely perceptible. Victoria tilts her head, and smiles "Or what , Martha? What are you going to do? Shoot me? turn my friends against me? kill me?" her smile grows unnaturally wide , "Oh darling , you can't kill the dead"

Martha does not flinch

"go on , point it at me. That women, is not your enemy. She can help you, if you were any nicer. And maybe help you change your dreadful dressing style" she does , and Victoria simply rolls her eyes crossing the room to place her limited belongings on the bar counter.