Chapter 5 

-Wesley-

“What about him?” Kat replies nonchalantly, like she doesn’t know exactly what I’m getting at. Fixing her with a hard stare, I sit up and cross my arms. “Kat, be real with me for a moment, ok? Is Kirrill alright?”

Avoiding my stare, Kat stares up at the ceiling. “Probably. I mean yeah. He’s fine. He’s always fine.”

Great, she’s now trying to convince herself of the words because even she doesn’t believe what she’s saying.

“Kat. Where is he? Did you leave him with your dad?”

She suddenly snaps, sitting up and glaring at me angrily. “Yes, I fucking did leave him, he’s like 28 or something; he can take care of himself! He’ll be fine! You know, you and he would be a great match - constantly out to make me seem like the bad guy, always being so dramatic and crying about how I’m a bad friend, about how I’m such a terrible person. Well you know what, Wesley? I’m tired of this shit; none of you appreciate me!”

Taking a deep breath, I lie back down, turning away from Kat. “Leave in the morning. You can get the fuck out of my house and out of my life while you’re at it. I refuse to be friends with someone so self-centred.”

My eyes feel hot, angry tears silently slipping across my skin and leaving tiny marks on the pillow. Losing a friend is really hard, but this girl…she isn’t the girl I made friends with all those years ago. She isn’t the same person at all, and I hate who she’s turned into.

When I wake up next, she’s already gone. It’s only 3am, but if I was her I wouldn’t stay here either. Part of me worries for her safety, but the much larger part knows that her father basically owns the underground life of this whole place.

Forcing myself back to sleep because I have work in the morning, I try not to cry again. Maybe I’ll text Kirrill in the morning after all. I doubt he’ll reply, but hopefully…hopefully he’s ok. 

—————

Restocking the shelves whilst in my own little world, thinking over everything with Kat, I vaguely register the sound of the door opening. Standing up to greet the customer, the words freeze in my throat as I lay eyes upon an extremely angry-looking Kirrill.

He storms up to me, taking long strides before grabbing my shoulder and pushing me backwards into the doors over the chilled drinks. Fear spikes through my system and I instantly try to push him away, desperate for an escape. 

Annoyingly, despite being taller than him, I’m a lot weaker and already far too shaky to do anything remotely coordinated like kicking him in the balls. So instead, all I manage is to feebly shove him away, relying on my automatic reactions to protect me by pushing directly in front of me, hitting his shoulders weakly in an attempt to free myself.

Anger flashes through Kirrill’s eyes mixed with pain as he pushes me roughly against the glass doors, his fingers pressing harshly into my shoulders. “Tell me where the fuck she is,” he snarls darkly, the tone of voice sending my mind into a downwards spiral.

He’s going to hurt me.

Instantly bringing my hands back to protect my head, I feel the tears already slipping down my cheeks as I fight with my memories. “I- I don’t know- I r-really don’t,” I stutter out, closing my eyes as my head begins to hurt with phantom pains.

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” A fist slams into the glass beside my head, not hard enough to break the door but enough to have me shaking and sobbing harder as I sink to the floor, my breathing sharp and fast yet none of the air seems to reach my lungs.

‘Now what are you going to tell your aunt?’

Standing perfectly still, I stare at the floor. ‘I’m being bullied at school.’

A rancid grin. ‘That’s right. The bullies did this to you. And if she ever finds out who was really behind this, well. I’ll make sure you never wake up again.’

Slowly opening my eyes, I sob loudly as I hug my knees to my chest, feeling like a 12 year old again. The panic attack slowly leaves me as I fiddle with my bracelet, focusing on the sensations of it beneath my fingertips. 

I’m alone here; I’m safe when I’m on my own.

Breathing out shakily, I wait as my heart rate slowly resumes it’s natural pace. Wiping my eyes which are sore from crying so much, I pull my phone from my pocket, trying to call my mum. Unlocking it, the screen mocks me with the text conversation it was left on.

Me: this is Wesley. Are you alright? - Read today, 9:07 am

Kirrill never replied. Instead, he came here and sent me into a panic attack.

Not like it’s totally his fault, he won’t have realised that scaring me would make me a useless and blubbering mess, making it even harder for him to find out where Kat is.

But still. I’d rather not see him ever again if that’s at all possible.

—————

-Kirrill-

I just wanted to intimidate him a little, hoping that he’d tell me where Ekaterina is. I hadn’t meant to give him a panic attack. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened to Wesley anyway; it looked like what I experience occasionally.

So I just left him; I didn’t know what else to do. Otherwise, I’d probably just continue to make things worse. I didn’t want to scare him like that, I hadn’t meant to- to hurt him like that. He’s just a poor innocent guy who probably doesn’t realise what a shitty friend Ekaterina is.

God, I wish I could just hate her, just resent her and be done with it. But whilst I’m done with her bullshit, I can’t just- I can’t just hate her. Not even after the burns last night, and not even after I failed to bring her back today.

I can however, hate the Boss. And I do. He may have saved my life, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat me like shit. Looking in the mirror, I carefully clean the blood off my split lip, not wanting to look into my own eyes. 

I’m scared of what I’ll see there. 

I’m scared to see what kind of person I’ve become.

Pulling out the first aid kit I always keep handy in my bathroom, I carefully clean the cut on my cheek. It hurts, but not nearly as badly as the burns do. Even after I treated them, they still hurt really badly, especially every time my shirt brushes against the five circles. I don’t have any plasters big enough to cover all of them and I don’t want to risk putting something on them which would hurt me more.

I need to go to the hospital, but I can’t risk that. None of us are allowed to ever go to the hospital; they want too much information which I couldn’t even give if I wanted to. And I hate the kind of questions which are like ‘how did this happen’ or ‘has this happened before’. 

Letting out a small hiss of pain as I dab the liquid onto my cheek to clean the rather large cut, I frown in annoyance. I kind of wish he’d just beaten me up instead of using my own knife against me; this is likely to leave a scar.

My poor face.

My lip kind of hurts a lot too, probably because the Boss wears a shit ton of rings, so getting punched by that isn’t a good feel. Sighing when I realise I don’t have any plasters the right size to cover the cut on my cheek, I consider my options.

1: leave it out to the air and risk it getting infected. It isn’t super deep but it’s hardly a scratch either…I mean the Boss literally held me down whilst slowly dragging the blade across my skin. 

Not a great feeling, but nothing that I can’t cope with.

My other option is to go and buy some of the long plasters. I know that the convenience store sells them, but is Wesley likely to still be working there now? I doubt it; I mean he worked the morning shift today, so he won’t be on the evening one too.

Sighing again, I remind myself that I have to take care of my body because no one else will.

No one here will protect me or care for me. These people may be my family, but when the Boss tells them to hurt me, they will. They have.

I’m done with this. I would rather be homeless than deal with the Boss day after day. Kat was always my reason for staying, but…fuck her.

Grabbing a bag and throwing a few things into it, I march myself down to the Boss’s office. Knocking and waiting until I’m allowed entry, I steel my expression. Entering, I stare at the man straight in his eyes. “I’m leaving. If I find Ekaterina then I will send her home, but if not…just let me get out of your hair.”

The Boss laughs, rapping his knuckles against the dark wooden desk. “What makes you think I’ll let you leave just like that?”

Swallowing thickly, I tighten my grip on the straps of my bag. “If you don’t, I’ll get you put in prison.”

I didn’t really want to threaten him, especially because I doubt he’d even stay in prison for that long, even if I have a shit ton of evidence against him.

The Boss lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “I would have you killed before you even managed to utter a word to the police, Vasiliev.”

Gripping my fists tighter, I pull out my last card. “Then I’ll tell your daughter the truth about you. I have the message all ready to send; she’d know everything you’ve done that she would hate you for. Such as things about her mother.”

The Boss stands up, furious. “You little fucker,” he snarls, but it hardly even scares me. I’m getting the hell out of here, no matter what it takes.