Page 40 of Pay the Piper

Maneuvering out of the small tub, I pick her up under her arms and pull her out. As I fish for a towel, I realize for the first time that she’s covered in bruises…and they’re worse around her breasts and thighs. Her lower stomach has three tiny scars, angry red from the water but healing.

I’m not asking her shit. I’ll wait for her to tell me when she’s ready…but whoever did this isn’t long for this world. She shivers, snapping me back to reality and setting me in motion. Before long, she’s dry, dressed in all my comfiest clothes, and sitting between my legs as I comb her hair. I can’t remember when I learned to braid, but I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know how. It’s come in handy many times when Mila has gotten too rough in the sparring gym and been unable to use her bruised hands for such a delicate task. The skill is particularly useful now.

Finally, when I’ve finished combing and started to braid, she speaks. In short, stilted half sentences, she explains the horrors she’s experienced in the past forty-eight hours, and I use every ounce of discipline I’ve learned here to stay calm and keep braiding.

“The private training. With my grandfather. The sessions that started when I was eight…”

She pauses for so long that I think she’s catatonic again, but then she continues, faster than before.

“He rapes me. Every time, the entire time. He teaches me other things as well, but he makes me work to seduce him, and then he rapes me. Tells me I’m lucky it’s only him and other girls would have a line out the door during their training.”

Why didn’t you tell me? I could have…done absolutely fucking nothing. Of course you didn’t tell me. What’s a thirteen-year-old pathetic excuse for a “man” going to do? Why didn’t I realize? You were always so tired coming back from the sessions, but I thought it must be psychological training or torture resistance…I thought you never talked about it because it’s a family secret, and I’m not your family…shit. No. Stay fucking calm, Misha.

“He got me pregnant. Noticed this week when I should have been on my period, which he usually looked forward to—”

I tie off the braid, and she pauses for a moment, then continues.

“I’ve never seen him so angry. He told me I failed him, then sent me to the doctor…that’s where the bruises are from. Said that I had to give him pussy for payment, and that Grandfather had agreed. He laughed…it lasted for so long, he was so excited he could—”

She chokes down a sob, and I can’t stop myself from falling to the floor beside her and pulling her into my lap.

“He told me it was a rare treat. That he couldn’t get me any more pregnant. So he came inside me. Again and again. Then he sucked the baby out of me, and I blacked out. When I woke up, an old nurse told me I never had to worry about that again, and these scars were from him removing my uterus.”

I press a kiss to her temple and hold her, storing every single atom of rage I feel deep within me. I know with the plans I’m already making and the life I plan to lead, I’ll need every one of them eventually.

I also know the well that I’m filling with them will never run dry.

Hours later, tucked tightly together in my bunk, I’m awake and listening out for any hint of distress. Surprisingly, I feel rested even without sleep, and I have a feeling that I’ve had the last night of deep sleep I’ll have for the rest of my life.

Can’t sleep like that now. I have shit to do. Like watch and listen in case Mila needs anything.

At some point, she must think I’m asleep, because she whispers something to me that I know she’d never mean for me to hear.

“This will be my last sunrise, Misha. I can’t stay here. I’m sorry…you have to let me go. The pain. It’s too much. I know you won’t understand now, but someday…Someday I hope you will. You can get out of here, away from Grandfather and all the men we wanted to be just like. They aren’t what we thought. I love you. You’re my only friend and brother. But you have to let me go.”

“No.”

She shrieks and turns to face me, and I press my forehead to hers.

“You aren’t going anywhere, Mila Taranova. You’re staying here with me, and we’re taking them down. Then we’re getting the fuck out of Russia. We’ll go to your dad in America, and start the fuck over. After we kill your grandfather. And everyone who works in that clinic.”

Her apologetic face tells me she doesn’t believe me.

“I don’t have the strength—”

“You do. You have me. You don’t need any more strength. All you have to do is get up every day, plan murders with me, train to get your confidence back…that’s it. But you can’t fucking leave me, Mila. Who would I follow around like a disciple? We’re in life together, moya tsaritsa.”

“Your queen?”

“You are. You’ve been my best friend since I was dropped on your doorstep, and you’ve taken care of me for years. I know about all the extra perks I get here thanks to you, and now it’s my turn to pay you back. We’re killing those fuckers, leaving Russia, and never fucking coming back. Good riddance. If I’m by your side, can you make it through more sunrises?”

Her gaze is calculating, as if judging whether my proposition is enough to keep her here. I can’t take her pain, as much as I’d like to. All of that healing will have to be done on her end. But not fucking alone.

“You’ll be my strength? We’ll watch the sun rise together?” she asks so quietly that I barely hear her.

“Every fucking day. We’ll never miss it. I bet they’re much better in America.”

With a watery laugh, she tucks herself under my chin and relaxes.