Shadows of the past i te.., p.27
Shadows of the Past I (Temporary Bliss #2), page 27
Jeez, Imma punch her face.
Ray squeezes my shoulder, bringing me closer. “Aleksandr Petrov,” he says. I give her a smug look.
Bitch.
Clara throws him a glance from the corner of her eye, but she quickly nods as she shakes my hand.
“Aleksandr. It’s a pleasure.”
Yeah, I’m sure.
“I’m Dr. Clara Stanciu. Please, come in, the both of you,” she waves us in, holding the door wide open for us. She takes the lead after we get inside.
I shoot Ray a suspicious glance. What the fuck? Hold on. I grab Ray’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. A small frown appears on his forehead as he slightly tilts his chin down. “What is it?”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You’ll see,” he says in a cryptic manner.
“What doctor is she? What the fuck’s this place?” I hiss.
In the corner of my eye, I can see Clara has stopped and she is waiting for us, pretending to politely inspect some paintings or some shit they’ve got stuck on the wall. I know she’s fucking listening.
Ray takes a deep breath. “Can you be patient for five minutes? That’s all I ask,” he says under his breath. “Then everything will make sense. I promise you.”
I stare back at the door, growing restless. I munch on my lip. Ray pinches my jaw to make me stop. I give him the stink eye. “If you brought me here so that she can interrogate me or brainwash me, or pull a Mengele on me… I swear to god, Ray.”
His lips twitch in disapproval. “Has anyone ever told you what a foul mouth you’ve got?”
“Don’t even get me started,” I thrust my finger into his chest. “And considering where it’s been…,” I look at him up and down. He has to cover the snort with his hand. He looks genuinely amused by my idiocy. “After you,” I mumble.
We rejoin Clara and she walks us down through a long hallway peppered with several doors. I stick close to Ray but can’t help the snarl on my face. “What’s this place?”
“It’s a private hospital,” Clara provides. “Made possible with the aid of this amazing gentleman,” she points at Ray, smiling at him.
Amazing, my ass. Close that mouth or I’ll rip your fuckin’ teeth out.
It doesn’t look like a hospital inside, on the contrary. Twisted, colourful paintings are hung on the walls, Christmas decorations cover the windowsills, fairy lights are hanging around the furniture in some areas. We pass by a room with a glass door where some adults are colouring.
“Hospital for what?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“It’s a psychiatric hospital,” she says.
Ray intervenes right before I can open my mouth to let out some more choice words. “Alex would like to see him.”
I’d like to what now? He doesn’t clarify but he gives me a knowing look. I don’t do telepathy, Ray. Words. Use words, can you? Oh, wait, you’re just as bad at that as I am.
Clara looks up at him. “He’s still unstable, but he’s made a lot of progress in the past weeks. I don’t recommend you interact with him, but I can definitely let you see him from a distance.”
She walks us up some flights of stairs before we stop in front of a door which has a narrow window. Clara motions towards it. I stare at Raymond unsure. I don’t know what the hell’s on the other side of that door. He nods in reassurance.
I step closer and peek through the window. I recognize him instantly. Those striking blue eyes bright and alive. I get even closer, watching him in disbelief. He’s at a table, rummaging through puzzle pieces, aided by a young man who could be close to my age.
“Don’t let him see you,” Ray says in Russian.
I nod absently. He never lifts his gaze, not once, absorbed by those puzzle pieces, his eyes scanning from left to right, top to bottom, realigning the image as needed with one hand as he uses the other to fish for the right pieces. Faint music is coming from inside, otherwise everything is quiet. The young man doesn’t talk to him, nor attempts to correct him when he frowns at the image.
I get so absorbed by this that I don’t even realize when Raymond and Clara have stepped out on the terrace and started talking behind the closed door. Her hand is on his right arm. I can tell even from afar that he is in pain. I can’t hear what they’re talking about, though and they’re turned to the side just enough so that I can’t see their lips moving. It looks like a light-hearted conversation from where I stand, but you can never know. Ray smiles at something and I find myself smiling too. A weight has just lifted from my shoulders. I step back from the door, scared not to let myself be seen. I keep my eyes trained on Ray. I can’t believe the boy is still alive. I can’t believe I accused him of murdering a child. Fuck, I’m stupid.
I lean against the wall for a couple of minutes as I wait for them to finish their conversation. When they’re done, we say our goodbyes and I even thank Clara on our way out.
After we return to the safety of the car and Ray backs out of the parking lot, I finally dare to speak. “Does she know what truly happened to him?”
“She knows enough to do her job.”
“Aren’t you afraid she’ll snitch?”
“I’m keeping her dream alive,” he says blandly. “What do you think?”
“Did she know Danya too?”
He purses his lips, frowning down at the road. When I think he won’t reply to me, he finally says, “No.”
“I’m sorry for blaming you,” I say after a while.
“It’s fine. You don’t know me.” He looks up in the rear-view mirror. “About what happened—”
“I won’t talk to anyone.”
He nods slowly. I don’t need him to tell me to keep my mouth shut about what I’ve seen. I’m not that stupid, even though one could argue otherwise.
“Did you at least achieve what you wanted?”
His lips turn into a sarcastic snarl. “The victory is bitter. There’s little to no satisfaction on that front.”
Cryptic as always, but I’m starting to get used to this. I feel like we’ve been making progress though. He doesn’t put as much of a fight to keep me from fishing for answers, which is a good thing, I guess. One point scored for me.
“I see.”
Some time passes without us talking as Ray drives us back to the highway. He took off his coat and pulled his sleeves up before leaving. His hands are steady on the wheel even though they’re battered. He’s replaced the bandage on his right hand and his work looks much better than the improvised patch-up I’d donned on him the other night. He looks as if he’s just gotten out of a meat grinder, but I can tell he’s more relaxed now. His eyes narrow as he checks both the side and rear-view mirrors.
“Something wrong?” I look back through the chairs.
“That arsehole cut them off,” Ray says.
A white car follows behind us instead of one of the black SUVs, but Ray dismisses it with a smack of his lips and his eyes flit to me. “In any case, how are you holding up?”
I settle back in my chair, lifting a boot on the lower shelf of the command centre. “I’m not sure. I’m happy he’s not dead, I think.”
Ray nods, shifting gears at the same time. It seems he’s content with my reply, but I’m not about to just let this opportunity slide. “Do you want to talk about your meltdown?”
“No,” he says in a curt manner.
“I thought you said you learn how to live with the bad things.”
He frowns and when I think he’s done with the conversation, he says, “I did. However, that doesn’t mean they don’t take their toll on you.”
I watch the scenery pass by. It’s nausea-inducing. “Are you on antidepressants?” I ask after a while.
He narrows his eyes, reducing the speed when the car in front of us starts moving slower. “Have you been rummaging through my things?”
I shrug. “Well, technically, it was you who threw everything on the floor. I just put them back and happened to have a little reading in the process.”
“Christ,” he mumbles.
“I know I’m exceptional, Ray. You don’t need to say it.”
“You don’t stop, do you?” he asks slightly exasperated.
I flash my teeth at him. “You gonna answer?”
His hands grip the wheel. “I’m not,” he says. “Not at the moment.”
I watch him carefully, storing that information away for later consideration. “What about the sleeping pills? I’ve noticed that you don’t sleep.”
“You’re very perceptive.”
“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” I comment. That draws a chuckle out of him. “It’s rare when you laugh,” I point out.
“There’s nothing much to laugh about lately. Would you care to tell me why my bodyguards were giving me funny looks this morning?”
I bite my lip, glancing at him sideways. “You remember that someone rang the bell yesterday, right? After your… well… fit.”
He frowns at the road, getting a bit tense at that. He looks like he’d rather jump out the window while the car’s still running than continue that conversation.
“It was your downstairs neighbour. I might’ve told them we were trying some new positions,” I look out the window. He glances at me for a brief second, a shocked expression on his face, then he bursts into laughter.
“Christ, Alex.”
“What?” I shrug. “You told me to find a way. Or you preferred the other option?”
He shakes his head, still amused. “Marian won’t let me hear the end of it.”
“Edgar tried to get in after, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted to check on you, but I told him to fuck off. I don’t think he likes me much now.”
He considers that. “I’ll have a chat with him.”
We sound almost normal. It’s fascinating and scary at the same time. We fall into a peaceful silence for a couple of minutes.
“Do you think he’ll recover?” I ask. “The boy?” Funny thing, now that I think about it. I’ve put myself through hell for him, I ended up killing a man, and I don’t even know his name. And I probably never will. On the bright side, he doesn’t know me either. After all, who knows how he might react if he sees me? I was sweating the second I laid eyes on him. I could almost feel the images flashing through my head trying to pull me back to that night, but I think I was more shocked to see him alive than anything. God help, I don’t ever wanna find out how he’d react to me.
“He’s been making good progress. I don’t see why that wouldn’t be possible. His life won’t be exactly perfect after what he’s been through, but I think he’ll manage,” he smiles, looking at me again. “Are you alright?”
I shrug. “I’m okay. I guess.”
“You’re agitated.”
I stare down at my hands. I wring my fingers together, biting my lip. “It just… seeing him brought back unpleasant memories. That night… and Stefan… and… just everything else.”
“If talking helps you, then…” he pauses with a swift glance my way before he focuses back on the road. “You can talk to me.”
“I’m afraid he’ll come after me.” Especially when I’ll move in with Mark and won’t find myself in the safety of Ray’s flat. That’s daunting. I don’t even know how that will work. Does Ray plan to keep those sulking bodyguards with me? We should probably talk about it only so that I know whether to go shopping for an axe.
“He won’t,” he says and he sounds determined. Too bad I can’t feel the same.
“How can you be so sure?”
“If he knows what’s best for him, he’ll keep his distance.”
“Hmmm, you gonna play the big bad wolf and save the princess, or what?”
“I’m not sure that’s how the story goes,” he replies with a smirk.
That lightens up the mood a bit and just like that, Stefan is forgotten for now. “This feels normal.”
“What does?”
“Just talking to you. I feel like I can relax for a change. Finally.” I take a deep breath, roll my shoulders a bit. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but I was thinking of buying Denis’ folks something for Christmas. To repay them for what they’ve done for me. I feel like I’ve left things hanging. I just don’t know what. I’m not good at these things.”
“Mhm,” he nods in a pensive manner. “Get them a hamper.” He signals as he changes the lanes. “Could you light up a cigarette, please?”
“I should get them a what now?”
He stares at me. “A Christmas hamper?”
I pick up the cigarettes and put one between my lips, searching for a lighter. “I got it the first time, your Englishness. What the fuck is it?”
“It’s like a basket with food and gifts.”
“Yeah?” I light up the cigarette, dragging deeply from it. “That’s what you do back in England?”
“Of course,” he says, a smile on his lips. “We’re civilized, unlike you. Slaughtering pigs in the backyard and eating five different pork dishes in one go.”
“Wow. What an arrogant prick.”
“Give me that,” he opens the window on his side and motions for the cig. I take another drag only to piss him off, then pass it to him.
He puts the cigarette between his lips, keeping both hands on the wheel as he puffs from the corner of his mouth. Then he picks the roll between his fingers, frowning at the rear-view mirror. “What’s this idiot doing?”
The white car from earlier is trying to overtake us but another one is coming from the opposite direction. We’re speeding on the highway, and there’s several cars on the lane behind us and no way to brake.
“Ray!”
I grab the overhead support, bringing both my feet on the floor. The tires screech on the asphalt as Ray swerves right at the highway exit, sending me in the door pillar as he swears. “Bloody dickhead.”
“Pfff,” I blow my cheeks, the shakiness building momentum in my chest. “Fuckin’ hell.” The white car carries its way uninterrupted on the highway. “What a stupid… fuckin’ idiot. Fuck!”
“Are you alright?”
I put a hand over my chest, feeling my heart fluttering as it skips several beats. A flash of darkness zaps in front of my eyes. Loud tires screeching on the asphalt. The squeal of crushed, twisted metal and broken glass overpowers everything. My breath hitches. Sweat breaks over my skin. Everything is pulsing around me, moving at a fast pace. “I think I’m… Imma… I’m gonna panic… attack.”
“Hold on, I’ll stop after we pass the exit.”
He gives me the cigarette and opens the window on my side. I press my head against the headrest, closing my eyes briefly. I’m shaking hard. I can barely hold the cigarette between my fingers. I drag a couple of smokes until the nicotine dulls my senses. My hands are cold as I rub my eyes. I feel sick, but it will pass. It has to pass. I can’t die in this stupid car! I try to breathe.
Ray takes a left at the next intersection several hundred meters after we leave the highway, entering a residential road. He parks the car on the right side of the street where he can find an empty spot behind a beetle. He puts his hand over mine. I hand him the cigarette stump and he sticks it in the on-board ashtray. His hand curls on my nape and he drags me close. I rest my head on his shoulder, allowing my mind to settle.
The stillness is ruined by Ray’s phone. “Hold on,” he whispers against my cheek. He reaches for the smartphone on the dashboard. “I need to let the bodyguards know where w—”
I jerk up. “Oh my fuckin’—”
“Get out.”
Ray’s hand hovers above the phone, close to the glove compartment. “Don’t make rash movements,” he says, still holding onto me, both of us looking at the gun glued to the window on the driver’s side.
“Out, I said!” The black-clad man barks in Russian and stays close to the door, his eyes fixed on the two of us, his face uncovered in the daylight. Another man snatches open the door on my side. Ray stiffens, grabbing my knee as he looks up at the gun pointed at me.
“Out, both of you!”
My breath hitches up several notches. “Ray.”
“Do as he says,” Raymond speaks softly, his eyes scrutinizing, analysing.
I gulp. Oh. My. Fucking. Dog. And I was just calming down. I struggle with my seatbelt, but I can’t seem to get the fuckin’ shit open no matter what.
“Hurry up,” the Russian prods me.
“Jesus fucking C,” I hiss.
Ray unseats his belt, then lifts his hands in the air. “His seatbelt is stuck. I’ll just help him,” he warns the men. That phone is ringing too loudly in the background. Too much.
“I’ll blow his brains out if you try anything,” the guy on my side says, the cold muzzle pressed against my temple. Hot flashes spread through my body. That’s one too many bad flashbacks I have to cycle through in a span of five minutes. My heart can’t deal with this insanity.
Our eyes meet as Ray’s hands go down to unfasten my belt. “I’m gonna puke.”
“It’s alright,” he reassures me. “Just do as they say.”
Once I’m free, I push myself out of the car with a lot of reluctance. I am shaking so hard it’s a wonder I manage to stand. Ray’s eyes are trained on me as the guy with the gun pats me down. He pulls out the phone from my jacket and tosses it on the passenger’s seat. He then slams the door shut and grabs my arm.
“Ray.”
There’s a sense of alarm to my voice as the guy urges me forward. I don’t miss the feel of the gun shoved in my back either. It’s rather painful. I am aware of the muzzle stuck right against one of my vertebrae even through my winter jacket. I wonder how many nerves one tiny bullet can vaporise in its journey through my body. Perhaps that’s a question better left unanswered. The prospect of me paralyzed doesn’t really appeal to me at the moment.
I look over my shoulder. Ray gets out of the car, his hands in front of him. The man pats him down, then Ray points at his seat and says something I don’t catch. The Russian barks something back and Ray grabs his coat from the driver’s seat and turns the pockets inside out in front of the man. He opens both his wallet and the cigarette pack and lets the man look inside.
