I think I’m going insane.
In the beginning, I chalked it up to my nightmares getting the better of me. I was dreaming about memories of Mom and Dad in Sicily, and most of them were about being trapped in a box with no way out.
But then I started having those nightmares while I was awake. My mind broke my spirit, my soul, and my fucking heart.
I realized something was definitely wrong when Jeremy became scared of me. He called me a ghost and said he hates Ghost Mommy.
Adrian has his nanny working full-time now and he’s been distancing Jeremy from me like he always intended to. He’s been taking away my angel.
Since the night I broke whatever is between us, Adrian hates me. He doesn’t say it in words, but he proves it in actions more than enough. He hate-fucks me every night, in the pussy, then in the ass, and sometimes he’ll take me to the shower just to do it all over again. I loathe how much I like it, how much I tingle with anticipation for his rough handling and unapologetic owning. In a way, that’s the only time I’m forced to be alive, to snap out of my daytime nightmares and the demons lurking in my head.
But whenever he’s not touching me, the vicious circle resumes. I’m plagued by memories of the man I killed, the life I finished, the innocence I slaughtered.
I overestimated my mind and believed that I’d survive killing someone. I haven’t. Ever since that day, I’ve been going downhill with no way to stop the slide.
I always thought myself above Adrian’s lifestyle, but I’m as much of a killer as he is now. The notion that I’ll become just as soulless brings tears to my eyes.
I’m losing touch with reality and with Jeremy. It’s worse when I take my antidepressants. I turn into a zombie, too numb to move or talk or even think.
Adrian took me back to my shrink, the same one I used to see. I didn’t bother asking how he knew about her, because Adrian knows whatever he wants to.
Even though he waited outside while I had my visit, I couldn’t find the words to talk to her. Before, I used to tell her about my parents and the black box, about how ballet wrenched me out of that box. After my career ended, I was stuffed into it again, but only for a brief while until Jeremy came along. However, now that I’ve killed someone, the box’s walls are tightening around my soul.
How could I tell the shrink that? How could I tell her that I murdered a person to protect my killer husband who married me just to use me?
It’s been months since I told Adrian I was cheating on him. At that moment, when he didn’t deny that he’d gotten close to me because of who my father is, he hurt me so badly, it was like the tip of his sharp blade tore through my heart and the feelings I had for him. I should’ve expected it, considering he doesn’t know how to feel, but I thought after five years of being together, he would’ve somehow gotten used to me like I’ve gotten used to him. He could’ve built a place for me in his black heart, even if it’s not as big as the area he occupies in mine.
I believed that maybe he cares a little.
Maybe he loves me a little.
But that was all naivety of my part. I’m the foolish one who fell in love. Adrian only ever saw me as a possession, as property. Someone he could fuck and keep under his thumb.
So I wanted to hurt him deeply. I wanted to stab him in his emotionless heart over and over so he’d feel a sliver of what I did. The only way to do so was by telling him that he was second, that the object he loved to possess wanted someone else.
But while I liked that night’s sex and the sex that followed after, I miss the other side of Adrian. The one who took care of me.
The one who hugged me to sleep and placed my feet on his lap, massaging away the tension.
Sometimes, I pretend to fall asleep in Jeremy’s room just so I’ll feel him lift me up, hold me to his strong body, and tuck me gently in bed.
Because in my waking moments, all I see on his face is hatred.
Sheer, utter hatred.
Adrian might have slightly gotten over my escape attempt, but he’ll never forgive me for cheating on him. He might not leave me, because I’m Jeremy’s mother and his ‘property,’ but he’ll never look at me as he did in the past.
He’ll never show me his rare smile or his caring side. He’ll never stroke my hair and kiss me before he goes out again.
I have to sneak around to watch him do those things with Jeremy.
That’s when I realize I’ve ruined everything.
Sometimes, I want to tell him it’s not true, that I lied because I was hurt, but his clipped words discourage me. He’d never believe me, anyway. Not when I held on to the lie for so long.
He still allows me to volunteer, but he sends at least five guards with me now, probably searching for my lover.
Thankfully, Luca has probably read the atmosphere and hasn’t gotten in touch again.
I have no doubt that if Adrian finds my childhood friend, he will skin him alive. People like him don’t like others to touch their property and will go the extra mile to prove a point.
Yan goes before me into the bathroom and checks every stall. When he tries to open one, a woman screams profanities at him from inside it, and he merely shrugs a shoulder. He can be so apathetic sometimes, both Adrian’s and Kolya’s personalities rubbing off on him.
After he makes sure no one is at the window and closes it, he checks the stalls—aside from the occupied one—one last time.
“Is this necessary?” I sigh.
“I’m just following orders,” he says apologetically. He’s been addressing me with more frowns than usual, probably sensing that things aren’t the same.
Before he leaves me in peace, he pauses and shuts the door, trapping us—and the screaming woman, who’s still in the stall—inside.
“What?” I ask with alarm.
“You’re not doing well, are you?”
“No offense, but I haven’t been doing well since I made your acquaintance.”
“None taken”—he lowers his voice—“but it’s different since after the assassination attempt.”
“Different?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Look, I know you didn’t cheat on Boss.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You’re not that type of person.”
I scoff. “Obviously, your precious boss thinks I am.”
“He’s blinded by you, Lia.”
“By me?”
“Yes. His obsession with you is forbidding him from thinking logically. And you did tell him you cheated. Did you think he’d pat you on the back?”
“I said that after I found out that he’s using me because of who my father is!”
“Still, do you think painting his most precious person, you, as a cheater was a wise idea?”
No, it wasn’t. “I’m not his most precious person.”
“Yes, you are, Lia. I’ve known Boss since I was younger than Jeremy and I’ve never seen him treat anyone the way he treats you.”
“With disdain, you mean?”
“You must me be joking. Listen, he’s not the type who allows anyone to cause him pain, but you were able to. You hurt him.”
“No more than he hurt me.” Tears well in my eyes. “Besides, he’d need to feel for me to ever be able to be hurt by me.”
“You’re just as blinded as he is, I swear. Just talk to him and I assure you that he’ll see your honesty. You’re torturing each other and it’s painful to watch.”
“How can I torture him when he doesn’t care?”
Yan opens his mouth to say something, but a bang from outside, probably from Boris, stops him.
“Just talk,” he insists before he gets out.
Arguing in Russian reaches me from outside. Boris is like Kolya’s twin brother when it comes to stoic behavior. He doesn’t like it when Yan talks to me and never fails to remind Yan of that fact.
After I quickly finish my business in the toilet, I stand at the sink to wash my hands.
The woman who screamed at Yan earlier shoves her stall door open. “The fuck is this? Family drama isn’t supposed to happen in a damn toilet…” she trails off. Then she whispers, “Fuck.”
I raise my head and my mouth hangs open as the water keeps running from the faucet onto my stiff fingers.
I’m staring at a replica of me.
She’s dressed in a faux fur pink coat, torn blue gloves, and her hair is a mixture of blonde tips and darker roots.
Her face is smudged with dirt and a few other things, but we’re still so similar that both of us stop and stare for a second.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“Fucking wow, indeed.” She circles me as if I’m an animal at the zoo. “If I didn’t know I was an only child, I’d think I have a twin sister. How old are you, girl?”
“Thirty.”
“Eh, I’m twenty-seven, so we can’t be twins.” She stops in front of me and grins. “Fucking life kicking a lookalike my way, ey?”
“You’re…” I trail off searching for the right words. “Do you come to this shelter often?”
“Nah, first time. But what a first time it is.” She stares at my hand and her eyes bug out. “Look at that fucking rock! Bet it could feed me for a year.”
I’m about to tell her that this wedding ring is the key to my cage, but while I study her, a crazy idea slowly forms in my head as the cold water soaks my skin. I must’ve really gone insane if I’m thinking about executing it.
“I’m Lia. What’s your name?”
“Winter,” she says, still looking at my ring. “Winter Cavanaugh.”
“How did you become homeless, Winter?”
She throws her hands in the air. “It started a few months ago. I became an alcoholic after my baby girl was stillborn and my mom died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“So am I, but I’d be less sorry if I was married to a man who gave me such rocks. Goddamn, girl, look at your necklace. It must’ve cost a fortune.”
“Do you really want that?”
Her head snaps in my direction. “What type of question is that? ‘Course I want it.”
“What if I can make it happen?” My voice is monotone and scary, even to myself.
“How?”
I step closer to her and speak low so Yan and Boris don’t hear. The running water also serves as a camouflage. “Take my place, my husband, my fortune. Everything.”
“Are you kidding?” She laughs, then stops when I don’t join her. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” This feels like a movie, a reckless one, but I would be stupid if I pass on the chance that fate is finally offering me.
Her small features crease. “Why in the flying fuck would you give up all of that?”
“Because it’s suffocating.”
“I’ll choke by money any day.”
“It’s not that easy. My husband is a mobster.”
“Even cooler. Means he has more money.”
“You really don’t care about what he does? He’s in the Russian mafia.”
“That’s badass.”
I frown. How could she be this acceptant of it? But homeless people have a different way of thinking than I do, so she probably sees Adrian’s profession as an advantage, not an inconvenience.
She nudges me with her elbow. “You really gonna give me your husband and money?”
“If you agree. All I want is my son.”
“Of course I agree. Who wouldn’t want to live like a queen?”
Footsteps echo behind the door and I whisper, “Listen, do you have something I can write on?”
She opens her coat and lifts her sweater, revealing her fair belly with stretch marks. “Do it here.”
I retrieve my super matte lipstick pencil from my bag and scribble on her stomach. “This is my email address and password. Tonight at eight, I’ll self-send a document that has all the information you need to learn about my husband and his organization. I’ll also include notes about my mannerisms and way of talking so you can mimic me. I’ll delete the email in three minutes, so make sure you download it immediately and print it out. I’ll give you money. Hide your face with your hoodie when you leave, and don’t come here again except to meet me in this bathroom next week at the same time if you still want to swap places.”
“Sure thing.” Her eyes gleam as she stares at my email and password on her stomach as if they’re sacred.
I drop my lipstick back in my bag. “See you then.”
“Wait.” She grins, showing surprisingly white teeth, but that’s probably because she hasn’t been homeless for long. “You said you’d give me money to print out the document. Can you include change for some alcohol?”
I give her all of the cash Adrian tells me to keep on me in case of emergencies. “Dye your hair the same color as mine and buy shampoo with a rose fragrance.”
“Got it!”
I straighten as I exit the bathroom with my heart hammering.
This is my last chance to escape before I either kill myself or Adrian hands me over to my biological father to do the honors.
