Made in Russia

Chapter Four: Red

Chapter Four: Red

***

A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said 'I've a pretty rose tree,'
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.

Blackness surrounds me. Peaceful, infinite blackness. I smile to myself and sink deeper into the bath until I am completely submerged underwater. I feel the oxygen leave my body slowly. But this does not alarm me. I am in control. That is, until he shows up.

Rough, calloused hands close around my neck and violently pull me from the tub and onto my feet. I stand before him, vulnerable and naked in every sense.

My father stares into my eyes as he clutches my throat. I stare into his. Nothing but pure hatred is reflected in them. This is the last thing I see before the world ebbs to black.

I wake. I am completely drenched in my own sweat. I am shaking from astounding coldness, yet at the same time I am on fire. My hair is thoroughly soaked in perspiration. I roll onto my back.

The pain I feel in my abdomen is so sharp that I can taste it.

Quickly, I change clothes. I strip the sheets, which have recently been painted red, from the mattress. Then, in what seems like one smooth movement, I collect the bed sheets and my soiled clothes and I tiptoe past Yuri and into the hallway.

I take the elevator down to the basement. Into the washing machine I dump the clothes and sheets. I wait the allotted thirty minutes before I frantically yank everything from the washing machine. I check the bed sheets. My lovely red has faded to a dull brown.

I silently curse myself and the sheets, which seem to be mocking me.

By the time I make my way back upstairs, Yuri is awake. This is unsurprising.

"Morning," he mumbles around his mouthful of coffee.

"Too much caffeine will kill you," I greet him.

"Where've you been?"

"Basement. Don't ask."

He smiles. "Don't worry."

Back in the bedroom, I remake the bed and hurry into the shower. Two bottles of cold water wake me up.

I dry myself and change into my Donny's uniform. I toss my phone into my backpack and head out the door.

Business is slow at Donny's for the first few hours. I sit in the kitchen, filling up on free pizza and reading. Tate joins me.

"Moby Dick," he reads. "Never read it. I feel like I've seen a movie of it, though."

"Huh," I respond.

Tate scoots in closer, not taking the hint. "So," he says, searching for something to say. "You've known Donny for a while." he finishes lamely.

I sigh inwardly and tuck my book back into my backpack, succumbing to Tate's friendly advances. "Yes. He was good friends with my uncle. That's how I got the job."

He nods. "How do they know each other?"

Did, I think. Past tense. "It's a weird family connection. My uncle's wife is Donny's second cousin. Or something like that."

Tate nods again. An overgrown curl falls into his eye. He pushes it back.

"I used to come here a lot. Good pizza. So I applied one day," he offers, desperately trying to save this dying conversation. "The pepperoni here is the best in the city."