𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

56

~ ilya ~

When I woke up, Phoenix was no longer tucked beneath my arm.

My eyes searched the front room for the black-haired angel but she was nowhere to be seen. I glanced at the grate to find the fire had gone out. Rising to my feet, I pulled on my boxers and pants and went in search for her.

Eventually, I found her upstairs in the master bedroom. The curtains of the large window billowed around her face. The window was wide open and she sat, staring out of it.

Wordlessly, I grabbed the quilt from the bed and draped it on her shoulders. Then, I walked to the closet for a shirt.

"Where are we, Ilya?" she murmured, half of her mind still lost in thoughts.

"Siberia," I answered, warily. I grabbed a jumper and pulled it over my head, before returning to the room.

She turned as if sensing me coming her way. I didn't miss the way she scooted back subtly.

My eyes narrowed. Were we back to cat and mouse?

"Why?" she questioned, not meeting my eyes as she fiddled with the loose threads of the quilt.

"Because this is home," I admitted quietly, "where I was born."

Her head shot up. I searched her eyes for emotion: curiosity.

Reluctantly, I let a soft smile form on my lips. Phoenix had a tendency to open up when she was curious.

"Do you want to know more?" I offered.

Like I expected, she nodded fervently.

Carefully, I sat on the window seat beside her, maintaining the distance she put between us.

"I was born Ilya, named after my grandfather. We owned a farm in a small town near Novosibirsk and my family was humble."

In my peripheral vision, I noticed her raise a brow.

Nonetheless, I continued: "One day, some people from the city came and wanted to speak to my grandfather. I can't remember what exactly happened. I was six, my brother ten. But I do remember the gunshots. They killed my grandfather and when my mother tried to intervene, they shot her too."

I sighed quietly; I was ashamed to feel only a quarter of the pain I should feel. But truth was, I didn't remember much of my mother to suffer the sorrow that Viktor - my brother - did.

Unexpectedly, Phoenix's warm hand landed on mine. Grateful, I laced my fingers through her.

"They let me, Viktor and my father go. I found out that they wanted the land but my grandfather refused to sell. The police in our area were corrupt. They laughed in my father's face. They burnt the bodies so we couldn't give even give them a funeral."

"Ilya..." she mumbled, meeting my eyes sorrowfully, "You don't have to."

Shaking the warmth away, I offered her another smile before returning to the memories.

"My father took us to the city, Petersburg. We lost everything at that point so he couldn't feed us. I was too young to work so he left me at an orphanage for a few years. Turns out he was doing illegal work for those years and Viktor was smuggling drugs to Moscow. When they came back for me, I was thirteen. I joined the business."

While I spoke, she had absentmindedly slipped closer until he head rested on my shoulder. I couldn't figure out if Phoenix had done that for her own sake or mine.