Page 120 of Ruthless Sin
“You brought me into this house,” I say. My voice is very quiet. “You sat across from me at that table every morning. You watched fro days while you already knew.”
His eyes don’t move from mine.
“You were inside me while you knew.”
“Yes.”
One word.
Just yes. Not I’m sorry. Not I tried. Not a single syllable of defense.
He’s not going to fight you. He’s going to take it. All of it.
I almost wish he would. I almost wish there was something to argue with. He’s giving me nothing — just his eyes and his hands at his sides and that single yes, like he’s been sitting on a stand waiting for the verdict for months.
I drive my hands into my thighs. Hard. To stop what’s about to come out of me.
“I’m not going to say the rest of it for you,” I say. “You already know what you did.”
Russian comes out.
Sharp. Hard. Each word a blade.
“Ty reshil, chto ya mertva.”You decided I was dead.
I take one breath.
“Ty pokhoronil menya v svoey golove, chtoby ne smotret’.”
You buried me in your head so you did not have to look.
Another breath.
“Ty ne imeesh’ prava.”You do not have the right.
The last sentence. The longest one I’ve spoken in years.
“Ty ne reshaesh’, kogda ya perestayu sushchestvovat’.”
You do not get to decide when I stop existing.
I get up.
My legs almost give out.
I have to grip the edge of the mattress to stay upright.
He doesn’t move or try to stop me.
He can’t.
I find my underwear on the floor near the chair. I put it on.
My hands are shaking so hard I can barely get them on.
I’m humming.
I don’t realize I’m doing it at first.
