Promised to a Petrov

Chapter 24

ISIAH'S POV:

I don't know what I'm doing. I'm in over my fucking head over here.

It's so much harder than I imagined it to be, taking care of Katiya.

I had a plan, I'd work from home and anytime I'm needed I'd send Zoya to go and check on things. Zoya being my right hand. However shit has been hitting the fan constantly, like a never ending cycle because Scarlett was right, getting her adjusted was the hard part.

That morning after, she wouldn't move, she sat in that corner like she was paralyzed. Her body was dead weight while she leaned up against those wooden shelves, only her chest moving as proof that she was alive. I laid there once again, sleeping next to her on the hard floor.

I got her pills delivered that next morning, a maid waking me up only to find that Katiya was gone. We found her half an hour later, sitting in the master bathroom, the balcony doors wide open. The curtains blowing in the harsh winds as a storm formed over us.

She was cold to the touch and when I placed my hands into her palm, my thumb pushing into her skin by accident, an indent was made. She wasn't just cold; her fingertips were a light hue of blue and purple from sitting there all night. She was halfway to frostbite, starving herself, and dehydrated.

That was my first realization that I didn't fully understand the amount of attention she would need. I can't even pinpoint the worst part. She wouldn't move, she wouldn't talk, and she just did not care. Her eyes weren't just empty anymore, they were dead.

I've always had a problem with patience, frustration always got to me. Under different circumstances, I'd get all worked up and either give up or use force. I couldn't do either with her.

My only option was to smash up the pills and put them all in her food and water, and I'm grateful it worked because I didn't want to use my second and last option. Force feed it to her.

I hate this. Everything about this fucking sucks. My last resort is to treat her like a dog, I am pumping meds into my fiancé like she is an animal. I shove pills in Dima's food, I have to physically put them in Dasha's mouth and hold his mouth close, so he has no other option but to swallow it. Katiya isn't an animal.

I used to like watching her eat, I liked how she loved my cooking, how she'd smile, even if it was small, it was there. Now I hate it, because I see nothing in her expression, and I'm forced to watch it because I'm the one who feeds her. I'd hold the spoon up just inches from her lips and I'd hold my arm up and wait until she opened her mouth. She'd just sit there, and tears would fall from her eyes and damn it, it pisses me off. Not because I didn't want to be there for her, but because something so fucking significantly fucked up happened to her that it resorted to her being a statue and popping pills to cope and feel good.

It wasn't until five days after that there was a change in her. She perked up. Not like, hopping and skipping around, but enough to finally leave the second floor. She went downstairs, and she fed herself. What really took the bait was when she even tossed a ball in the yard with the dogs.

It's been an entire week, two days later, and I convinced her to walk with me.

We went out through the front doors, and it's been silent as we walk down to the front gate before turning left so that we could walk the fence line.

Dasha and Dima run in front of us, playfully fighting as they try to capture a squeaky toy that keeps being thrown around between the two.

It's quiet, and the storm is still amidst us. The sky is grey, the sun covered by thick clouds and the wind biting at my check with every wisp. The grass is wet and the water soaks through our shoes as we make it around the quarter mark of the fence. That is when she finally speaks.