Page 24 of The Harbinger
When the lights flashed back on, I pulled away from the sink and stumbled backward, my heart skipping as I found my way back into the bedroom.
Dr. Sergei and I had sat next to the bookshelf that spanned from wall to wall and floor to ceiling for over an hour—it’s chaotic design pulling my attention away from his repetitive questioning time and time again, inciting him to exhale with frustration.
My finger touched the first book, a hard black rounded spine with a ridged design, and ran it across the gold etched Cyrillic letters at the top. It was the only black book in a throng of browns and reds.
I tucked my finger over the top of the spine and tipped it from its space.
“Are you hungry?”
I gasped and jumped, the book rocking back into place with a thud as I spun on my heel, my hand clutching my chest.
Sacha stood in the doorway, his dark frame looming inside the void with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“Goddammit. You scared the crap out of me.” Moments passed, and he didn’t move nor make a sound as I stared back at him until I broke the stalemated silence. “Where did you—”
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and crooked his first two fingers. “Come.”
I shook my head—my feet locked into place. “I-I know you want me to detox, but that’s not your decision.” I placed my hand on the bookshelf, then crossed my arms as though it’d get my frustration across. “I can’t. I mean… I don’t want to.” My heart skipped a beat, and my pulse slammed into my ears as I stammered, losing my confidence as the seconds ticked on.
Jenny had warned me how terrible detoxing would’ve been on the street. That’s why she’d kept me topped. She’d made it sound worse than the flu, coupled with delirium and maybe even loss of bowels.
This was the longest I’d been without a hit, and my shaking hands and nervousness pointed to the fact. Or maybe it was because of this gorgeous but mysterious man who took me to unfamiliar territory.
A smirk ticked up the corner of his lips as he glanced at my bare feet, then up to meet my gaze. “You’re not in a position to make demands.” He stalked forward like a lion. “Are you?”
My stomach sank like a ladened stone tossed into a lake. My superficial breaths caused my head to swim.
He’d dropped me into a new country, surrounded by his men and staff who were all against me, including the doctor.
I shook my head ever so slightly. “I don’t like feeling out of control.” The words escaped my pressed lips in nothing more than a whisper, my chest tightening as the tears threatened to spill.
Cocaine gave me control over the chaos and softened the blow to my hopelessness. It made living on the streets and not knowing who I was or what happened to me bearable, but when it wore off as it did now, it left this uncomfortable rot inside of me that festered like a seeping, unhealed wound.
Sacha stood above me somehow, his other hand tucked into his pocket, then sighed. “I guess we have something in common.”
We had nothing in common. This man was rich beyond my wildest dreams, and who was I? A poor, nameless girl addicted to drugs with an unspeakable past.
Sacha walked away as I hung my head, his expectations hanging heavily in the air. My feet moved as though a puppeteer had taken control, drawing me ever closer to him.
“The chef has made you soup.”
Soup again?
My stomach barely handled it the last time. “I’ll be okay with a piece of bread. I think soup might be too much right now.”
“Sergei suggested potatoes and broth.” Sacha walked me through the doorway. “You’ll need your strength.”
He was going to do it.
This man, who knew nothing about me, and I him, planned on taking away the one thing that helped me cope. And for what?
“But wait. I don’t understand. I was only supposed to test your cocaine, and then he would drop me back off at the gas station. That was the deal.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
Sacha turned away and walked down the curved hallway, leaving me with panic growing in my chest.