39

Avrora
I feel like a slut.
I can’t shake the feeling no matter what I tell myself or how I paint things in my mind.
Sluts don’t normally have the clash of emotions I’m experiencing.
Usually, they don’t care. I’ve encountered enough of them to know. There were tons of sluts in high school and even more in college.
They didn’t care as they went from one guy to the other. And they certainly wouldn’t have a problem with being with a guy’s older brother.
Not like me. The girl who’s committed her soul to its own shitty apartment in purgatory.
Here I am again, sitting on the sofa in the sun room, trying to study but failing miserably because I can’t get my guilt-riddled mind to think of anything else besides Anatoli Scarfoni.
I’ve been back at college for a few days now. When I get home, I either study in here or by the pool.
Studying has been the only thing to distract me from the guilt I feel over the nightly punishments which send me deeper down the river of shame.
I just can’t do it today.
I’ve been in here now for the last three hours with my cognitive psychology textbook aging in my hands. I’m supposed to be reading about the early onset of neurodegenerative disorders, but I haven’t gotten past the first page.
My nightmares are still tearing me apart, but so is the tug of war in my heart.
Anatoli and I haven’t gone as far as we did the day Mira came to the house, but everything else we do is just as potent.
Every night for the last six days has either seen me on my knees with his cock assaulting my mouth, or me on my back with him eating me out like he’s been marooned on a deserted island starved for food.
I’ve experienced things with him I never even thought about or talked about with Lorelai-who I get my sex education from. She doesn’t sleep around but she’s more versed in the opposite sex than me, the virgin pretending not to be.
The pirate man has led me to the proverbial edge and I don’t know what will push me over. Him. Or me.
When it comes to him, I feel like my own worst enemy. Like he’s my kryptonite and I have no choice but to bend to his will.
Ehlga comes in carrying a tray filled with sandwiches and some other pastries I like. A warm smile lifts her ruby red lips and her hair is done up like she’s going out. Last week she went to the opera. She’d extended the invite but I wasn’t in the mood.
“Hello.” Her face lights up as she sets the tray on the table next to me. “I thought you’d want something light before dinner.”
The food is enough for at least four people. “This is what you call light, Ehlga?” A light chuckle I don’t expect falls from my lips. I savor the feeling, as few things make me laugh these days.
“Well, you didn’t eat much yesterday and I don’t consider the bite of toast you had this morning as breakfast.” She sits opposite me and crosses one ankle over the other.
“I see, I guess I wasn’t hungry.” With all my worries it’s a wonder I can get anything down my throat at all. When stressed, some people stop eating altogether, some eat too much. I’m somewhere in the middle of the scale, but closer to those who don’t eat.
“Just eat what you can. I’m going to a poetry reading so I wanted to make sure you ate some of the things you like.”
“I will. Thanks for making them.” I’m grateful she’s so caring but I probably won’t eat a lot because my appetite is nonexistent.
“You are very welcome.”
We’ve grown closer and that’s been nice. Talking to her sometimes eases the tension and she’s taken care of all the wedding arrangements, as if she understands how difficult it is for me to marry another man.
“How’s college been going?” She rests her hands on her lap.
“It’s been good.”
What’s even better is not being here, and I love seeing all my friends. The only downside is everyone-the good, the bad, and the stuck-up bitches-know what happened to me. Whoever wasn’t at the wedding would have been fully informed when the gossip spread like an Australian bushfire.
“I’m glad. How are you doing otherwise?”
The mood of our conversation shifts with the question and I’m stumped for an answer.
“I’m okay,” I answer by default. Of course it’s a lie. But I lie so often now that even the air I breathe, the walls of the house, and the trees surrounding us believe me.
To keep up the facade, I give her one of my sweet smiles-the mask I slip on to make me look like I won’t end up like my mother.
“What time is Anatoli coming back?”
“I’m not sure, dear. His schedule is all over the place this week.”
I just hope he’s not back soon. His schedule is all over the place anyway, but he’s busier this week because he’s going on a business trip tomorrow. He’ll be gone for over a week. The break from him will be great, but his return will mean I’m that much closer to becoming his wife. I’m still as terrified as the first day I found out.
“Try not to worry about Anatoli too much.” Ehlga taps the back of my hand.
I stare at her, wondering if she’s going to elaborate. She never says anything about him, other than letting me know when he’s here, wants me, or has some asshole order for me to follow.
“Sometimes he can come across as being… intense.” She nods as if she really believes what she’s saying.
I stifle a groan that I knew would sound rude. I want to tell her that intense is when your college professor gives you a B- on an assignment you thought you aced, because he wants you to do way better next time.
Anatoli Scarfoni is not intense, and I’m beginning to think I was right about Ehlga not using swear words. If she did, she’d be using something along the lines of motherfucker, or fucking asshole to describe him.
“Ehlga, I appreciate your effort to make me feel comfortable here, I honestly do. But I’m sure you know Anatoli’s intentions for me. And you know what he did to me.”
The light in her expression dims and discomfort settles in the seal of her thin lips. “I do. I just want you to know there’s more to him.”
“Like what?”
“A different side. Something softer.”
“Something softer?” If I knew I wouldn’t get in trouble, I would totally taint her perception of him and tell her what he makes me do at night.
“Anatoli is not always the version you’ve seen. It might help you to keep your mind open to that as you’ll be married soon.”
Married. Married to a stranger who makes my head spin and my body speak to me in a language I don’t want to understand.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” Her radiance returns as she smiles. “I’ll leave you with something to cheer you up.”
My interest piques. “What?”
“This.” She picks up one of the tea cups from the tray. I assumed it was empty like the one next to it, but it’s not. Dark tea leaves have settled at the bottom, looking like a shadowy butterfly. I remember using this cup at breakfast to drink her special Slovenian blend.
I guess she’s about to tell me my fortune so I try like I did the other day not to look like I think it’s a crock of shit.
“Look what the stars hold for you.” Her eyes beam like she’s about to hand me a check for a million dollars.
“Is that good? It looks like a butterfly or some sort of insect.”
“Very good. It’s the butterfly. It means success and happiness.”
“That’s nice.” I can’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I don’t believe in the whole divination thing anyway, but now I definitely don’t. The only success I’m going to have here is not going crazy in this house. And if I accomplish that, I guess I’ll be happy.
“Don’t say it like that. My skills have never failed me.” The light ends of her gray waves bounce as she nods.
“Alright Ehlga, if you say so.”
“I do say so.” She laughs. “I’ll leave you to eat. I’m around for the next fifteen or so minutes. If you need me just call.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She dips her head and saunters away.
I pick up a chicken mayo sandwich and eat it. It tastes amazing and is a good distraction. When I’m about to grab another, my phone rings. I’m expecting a call from Lorelai but I thought she’d call later.
I grab my phone but freeze when I look at the screen and see it’s not Lorelai calling me.
It’s Mikhail.