Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I’m afraid he’s going to call an ambulance and have me taken to the hospital, but when I breathe hard and try to listen, I’m hit with another spasm of brutal, blinding pain. And I can’t think anymore.
The memory of the night of my assault flashes in front of me every time I close my eyes, but when I open them, the pain seems even harder to bear.
I try everything.
I roll onto my side and bring my knees to my chest, a move that sometimes brings temporary comfort. It doesn’t.
I get on my hands and knees and rock back and forth—a move an OB in London once taught me—and it has worked before.
Not this time.
I stretch my arms and legs on the bed like a starfish, and it hurts so badly I immediately crawl back into a fetal position, grit my teeth, and bear it.
Just like I did that night. When fighting didn’t work, and I couldn’t escape, I bore it and reminded myself that I wasn’t going to die, that this wasn’t the end, and that, eventually, I would get my vengeance.
But there is no getting vengeance when my own body is assaulting me.
God.
I’ve ruined his sheets.
I bleed heavily because of scar tissue, and I’ve never found anything that helped with that either.
I need feminine supplies. Privacy. A shower.
But I can’t.
I’ll get new sheets. I just don’t want him near me right now.
There’s silence.
Just me.
And my pain.
My memories.
My shame.
And then I hear two voices. A female one and a male one, followed by another male one. But then one leaves, and it’s only Matvei and a woman.
And the voice, it… sounds just like my own.
No—
The door opens, and Polina comes in.
She’s wearing slouchy sweats, her hair in a haphazard bun, and thin little glasses on the tip of her nose as if she’s just woken from sleep and hasn’t put her contacts in yet.
"Anissa, tell me what’s going on."
She sits on the edge of the bed next to me and reaches for me, then stops herself midair and places her small hand on the bed beside me instead.
My cheeks flame with embarrassment.
I’ve only just met my sister.
I don’t know her at all.
And yet—here I am.
Bleeding through sheets. Crying from pain.
Holding onto the memory of a past I wish I could carve out of my brain forever.
I don’t want to see her right now.
Matvei is behind her, pacing on the phone.
She gentles her voice.
"I went to midwifery school," she says softly. "I know a little bit about these things. I’m not an expert, but I might be able to help. At the very least, I might know people who can."
And right in that moment, I look into the eyes of a woman I just met but have somehow known forever.
And now, I’m crying for an entirely different reason.
I swipe at my eyes and nod.
"He needs to leave," I whisper.
She looks over her shoulder and holds her head high like the queen that she is, then jerks her chin toward the door.
"Leave us alone."
"I’m not—"
"Go," she snaps at him.
Even from here, in my daze of confusion, I see the way his eyes narrow, his shoulders snap straight, and then he turns and walks away.
She’s the wife of the pakhan.
He can’t disobey her.
"There," she says with a smile that somehow makes the pain seem a little more bearable.
And then she says something else, but I don’t hear her.
The roaring in my ears drowns out everything as another spasm of pain hits.
I rock. I cry out. I grip the sheets so hard my knuckles turn white.
And it doesn’t stop.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
"Is it endometriosis?" she asks, running through a few other conditions I’ve heard mentioned before, but I don’t know for sure.
Because then, I don’t hear her voice anymore.
The wave of pain assaults me like the lash of a whip on flesh.
Raw.
Brutal.
Unforgiving.
My breath catches, and I try to hold onto the sheets, move into a fetal position, and rock back and forth, but it doesn’t work.
Polina climbs onto the bed next to me, places both hands on the small of my back, and puts firm, steady pressure.
"My god, you poor girl. I can feel the spasms in your back. Breathe, Anissa. In through your nose, out through your mouth," she says, adjusting her hands on my back in just the right way, and then she presses.
Relief.
Blissful, glorious relief.
Like my body was caught in a vise, and she just pulled the release button.
"Oh my god," I gasp. "Whatever you’re doing, that feels better. It feels so much better."
My voice is wobbly and shaky, and I’m still blinking back tears.
But at least now, I can breathe.
"Good," she says in a gentle voice that makes me want to weep.
I’m a fucking mess.
Then she raises her voice. “Matvei!”
The door immediately opens, and he stares, his eyes wide, as she rattles off a list of things that he needs to fetch for her. She tells him exactly where to get them.