From Russia With Loathing

Part 20

Anastasiya

I couldn't sleep.

I tossed a turned for a few hours before I just gave up. After laying in bed just staring at the ceiling, my stomach growled. I saw the light in the office was still on so I crept down to the kitchen.

Pasta. I wanted pasta.

I haven't cooked since I moved it, so it almost feels weird to be looking through the pantry. I feel like a little kid trying to steal fruit gummies or pudding cups in the middle of the night.

I spot a jar of tomato sauce. Instantly I think back to when Audrey's mom taught us to make vodka sauce when we were in college. We spent the whole week leading up to Audrey's 21st birthday learning how to make every single dish that involved alcohol. Every kind of pasta with wine and vodka. Desserts with brandy and bourbon. We even drunkenly made up a few recipes.

I grab the pair of headphones I had set in the living room. I turn the volume up in an attempt to drown out the world and all my problems.

But it doesn't work.

Reply every word Viktor said earlier. He didn't want to be in this relationship and he didn't want to be in it with me. I knew that, I get that. But then he said he didn't want to lose me? What?

I definitely find him attractive. I much as I hate it, and as much as I have fought it. It's true.

We have become closer then I would like to admit. We have fallen into almost a comfortableness around each other. I guess you can say we are friends.

But more then friends? I don't know. I mean I will admit there is some sexual tension, but we are two grown adults living together. Have I thought about him naked, definitely. More then once. The man is gorgeous. He is built and chiseled like a sex God.

Can you be sexually attracted to someone without being romantically attracted to someone?

Is he romantically interested in me? The way he talked earlier ... no. I can't turn a few words into something they're not.

I turn my attention back to the music playing in my ears. Taking a big swig of vodka, I do a little dance around the kitchen. I grab a plate and pile it high with pasta. A little to lost in the music, I pull the silverware drawer a bit to hard when I go to get a fork. I guess I'm a little tipsy.

I swirl a giant fork full of pasta and shove it in my mouth. I'm hungry and it tastes amazing. I take another bit and another drink of vodka.

Something moves in the corner of my eye. My heart stops and I feel myself jump.

I instantly focus on the gun in his hand. Then I notice the baseball bat.

I drop the bottle of vodka in my hand. The blood is pumping in my ears. I faintly hear the bottle crash to the ground and myself screaming.

I turn to runaway, but I slip. Pain instantly runs up my right leg.

I try to crawl away but they grab me. I twist and turn my body trying to break free of their hold.

"Anastasiya, stop" I hear him say. "Anastasiya, it's me. It's Viktor. Stop."

Slowly I realize what he is saying to me. His arms are around my waist, he flips me over so I am facing him.

My head knows it's him, but my body hasn't caught up. I can't stop shaking or crying.

"Hey, hey, its just me." He try's to calm me down.

I look down to where the pain is radiating from. There is blood everywhere. It's all over the floor and both of our clothes. I can't tell where on my leg it is coming from.

"Shit!" He hisses. "Come on, we need to get you cleaned up."

I go to stand up and pain shots through my body. Before I can do anything else, Viktor wraps his arms around me and picks me up. One arm under my leg and one around my back.

Still shaking, he carries me up the steps.

~*~

Viktor

I set her down on the edge of the bathroom counter. There is blood everywhere, all over us, I have no idea where the source is on her leg.

She is still shaking, and her tears haven't stopped. The little noises she is making is doing something to me, down there. She isn't out of her mind petrified like she was the other night, but she is definitely in a bit of a state of shock. We both scared the shit out of each other.

I soak a clean towel in medical alcohol and whip her leg with it.

"Oww, FUCK, that hurt." She hisses at me.

"Sorry, I need to clean away the blood and clean out the wound." I tell her. "I mean wounds."

We both look down at her leg. There's a large cut straight down the middle, and it looks deep. There are also two smaller, shallower, cuts.

"Fuuuckhhhh" she cries.

"This one is definitely going to need stitches." I point out.

"Uugghhhh"

I hand her a clean towel. "Press down hard. The bleeding has to stop before I can put in the stitches."

I walk over to the cabinet and get out the box of medical stuff. Her eyes grown huge when she see me pull out the needle.

"Um, you are not stitching me up." She says.

"I have to. I won't heal right and you will have a horrible scare." I pull out a small vile of liquid and a syringe. "I'm going to give you a little antistatic so you don't feel anything"

Her eyes dart from me to the syringe and back again. She has quite shaking but she is still breathing heavily.

"Do you even know how to give someone stitches?" She asks wearily.

I chuckle "Yeah, this is definitely not the first time I have done this."

"I don't know why I asked." She rolls her eyes at me. "Just be careful."

She watches me carefully as I fill the syringe. Her leg jerks away when I get close with the needle.

"I'm not going to hurt you. It's just a tiny pinch, and then you won't feel anything. Just take a deep breath."

When she breaths out I quickly stick her with the syringe and slowly press my thumb down. A small whimper escapes her lips.

"Give it a second. Tell me when you can't feel it."

I clean up the blood droplets on the floor and throw the bloody towels away. I grab the small teakwood seat out of the shower and set it in front of her.

I lightly press my thumb close to the wound. "Can you feel that?"

"No." She pulls her bottom lip in and bits down on it. I can't take my eyes off her mouth for a second. I want to pull her lip out and bit it myself. Fuck.

I shake my head. Forcing some of the blood the return to where it should be.

I put more alcohol on a towel and clean the cuts better. With a sharp pair of tweezers, I pick out small shards of glass. When it's all clean, I slowly weave the needle in and out of her skin. I make sure they are neat and close together, so there is a smaller scare.

The larger gash took 12 stitches and one of the smaller ones took 4. I slather everything with salve and wrap her whole calf.

"I'm sorry." She looks at me with doe eyes but doesn't respond. "I'm sorry for everything. You never should have been put in the middle of all this fucked up shit. But I promise you Anastasiya, nothing will ever happen to you. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. And I promise I will never hurt you again. I know you don't like me, and that's fine. You were forced into this fucked up relationship that you never wanted. But I promise, that no matter what, I will do absolutely everything in my power to make you happy. Because whether we like it or not, we are together. You are mine and I am your until the end."