Alina. The Shadows: Part II

Chapter Two

ALINA

My hands fall away from Matteo's bicep. I look down at my palms, both his skin and my own are stained with his blood. I frown at the way the maroon has seeped into the crevices of my fingertips and dried like ink on paper. I've touched so much of it the past three days—his, mine, Borkov's—it doesn't even phase me anymore. Is this what it's like for him? See enough blood and you become immune to the sight, the smell, the ways in which it was leached from the person's body?

My hands shake as I pull a small pair of sewing shears from the kit that sits between us and cut the needle from the thread before tying it off against his skin.

I dare a look at Matteo.

He's still gazing at me from over his shoulder, I follow his eyes as they roam over my features. He was going to apologize, but I couldn't bear to hear him say the words. Not after everything he's put me through. Now he seems to be contemplating each of my words and my every feature, mulling me over with abject scrutiny.

I almost began to feel guilty for the harsh way I snapped at him, cutting him off, but then I remember the handprint bruises wrapping around my neck and the bite marks flowing up my body— the way my blood flows through my veins towards my heart. And suddenly I'm angry all over again. Furious. He may not live in the real world with the rest of us who don't kill for a living, but he needs to understand you can't kidnap a person, use them, force them to do unspeakable things, and then turn around and absolve yourself of guilt with a lousy i'm sorry.

Because of him I was almost killed this morning and was assaulted the night before. And now we are on the run to god knows where! He has a lot  to apologize for but unfortunately for him, words will never suffice.

I may not loath Matteo the way I do Valdimir nor the way I revolt at the thought of Borkov, but there are things I can't simply forgive him for either. I'm far too filled with rage to find room for forgiveness. If I forgive him then I'll begin to forget, and I refuse to let these past few days—the past few years—be forgotten. Because if I forget, then I have a chance of repeating the same choices that got me here in the first place, and I refuse to be at the mercy of a man ever again.

Besides Matteo deserves my wrath, it's the least he deserves from me. Anger is a feeling I've found comfort in ever since my mother took her own life. Anger has replaced my mother's arms and has held me and comforted me in my darkest of hours. Anger has never led me astray into the hands of betrayal the way Vladimir and Matteo have. Anger leads to revenge.

"I'm done." I tell him. The adrenaline and panic of the morning has caught up to me and now I feel too much of everything. All of the anxiety I experienced, all of the terror he took pleasure in causing me... All of the emotions from the past three days are thrashing through my veins—mixing and colliding with one another—in an attempt to invade my heart. It's as if I've been sprinting for days—losing bits and pieces of myself along the way—and I've suddenly come to an abrupt halt. Emotionally drained, exhausted, and terrified of what comes next.

I drop the needle and scissors back into the container they came from.

I wring my hands in my lap unsure of what to do with them now that I'm finished. He doesn't respond right away and a strained silence begins to seep into the crisp air between us.

I continue to breathe evenly trying my best not to be seized by a full blown panic attack. Each stuttered exhale that leaves my aching chest seems to disturb the quiet calm of the room. No matter how hard I try I can't seem to catch my breath. It's all I can focus on. The only sound I seem to be able to hear.

Calm down. You need to calm down. I focus on the things I can see and feel. The small window of the train with a blur of landscape passing by, the sticky couch beneath my body, the sounds I hear other than my heavy breaths. I put all of my concentration on anything and everything other than the fact I almost died this morning and I could die at any moment. I think I hear Matteo saying my name but it takes a few attempts for me to actually focus on his voice.