What if who you thought you were was only a drop in the ocean of time?
What if your existence was fated to follow a predestined path?
And you hated that path. And you fought fate.
Katya Luschkova longs to break free from the suffocating hold of he...
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The skies were overcast that day too —as though it felt the crushing sadness that constricted my heart, making each beat an ache. Leonid did me the mercy of staying well away from me for the time that I grieved. He had delivered the message earlier the morning that my only confidante had died. I did hate the messenger —so much more than I ever thought I was capable of. I liked to think that Papa had found a better place than the god-forsaken dungeon he'd been forced to waste away in. My fourteen-year-old self was glad that he'd escaped. As for my tears, I grieved for me more than the family of mine that lay below ground thanks to the madness that festered within Leonid —my flesh, my blood, my brother. To think that the same flesh and blood constituted me was nightmarish. I was still living the nightmare, and liberation seemed beyond my reach —with no hand to offer me comfort, or smile to light my days.
At fourteen, my petite frame had decided that it would grow no more until properly nourished. My ribs stuck out like my pelvic bones and my wrists were frail and pointy, like the fingers and toes that didn't have the luxury of knowing nail paint or hot water. It was easy to wriggle through the hole in the dungeon wall and into the dark, cold, moldy interior as I'd done countless times before. A week after Papa died I felt the need to see that empty cell. Crawling through the dark, I pushed the rickety gate open a fraction and slid out the narrow space. Small torches dimly lit the passage way —victims of a sadist who much liked the sight of the darkness encroaching on each solitary flame, no protection against the cold draft that threatened to snuff out it's light. The dungeon creatures, used to my presence in the cells, were waiting eyes belonging to obscure shadows chained to walls and curled up in corners. My common sense told me I didn't want to get too close to find out what exactly they were.
I had asked Leonid once. And in a moment of sanity, his eyes heavy, he'd said, "My sins." But the trace of my brother was ephemeral, the madness deeply rooted. His next words were haunting. "Defects. Pathetic existences doomed to never know true amalgamation. They are cannibals of their own flesh."
I never asked again, afraid that if he knew I feared them, he would use it against me.
It was surreal, standing in front of the empty cell. And my heart overflowed at the true realization that on this planet I was utterly alone. My sobs rocked me and I curled inward, unable to control my shaking. I gripped the cell bars to keep myself up. I was unaware that someone else stood with me.
He was a boy about my age, if not younger. He was dirty and his clothes hung off him like rags leaving space for the bruises on his malnourished body to show through. His proximity startled me. My surprise must have surprised him for he jumped back and receded into the darkness of his cell.
Having never seen him there before, I was intrigued. He looked weaker than me. Gathering my courage, I stepped closer to his cell. "Hello?" There was no answer.
"I'm Katya," I said to the silence. "My grandfather used to be in the cell next to yours. He died last week. I came to...I don't know why I came really."
