You could jump.
It would be instant. You'd be free.
My hand trembles. I need the pill now. I hate that I need it, but I do.
Because without it, I don't trust myself not to listen to those whispers. Without it, I'm not sure I want to keep surviving this,and through it all, there's still some fucked up hopeful part of me that clings to the hope that somehow it'll all get better.
"I'll take it now," I say softly. "Tell him I did."
I place the pill on my tongue and reach for the water glass. The liquid is ice-cold as it slides down my throat, carrying the pill with it.
"Very good, ma'am," she says, her tone warmer now.
She moves forward and begins gathering the untouched plates. The berries. The blini. The salmon that smells like the sea I'll probably never see again.
"When you're ready," she says, stacking the dishes on the silver tray, "go upstairs. Olga is waiting to help you pack for the trip."
I can't believe it's already been almost a week since he told me about it.
This stupid ambassador summit where Maxim will parade me around like a prized animal and whisper threats disguised as endearments.
I nod, though she's not looking at me anymore. Her main job is done for now.
She lifts the tray and walks toward the door. Her footsteps echo against the marble as she walks away, leaving me alone.
The door closes with a thud, and the silence rushes back in and I sit perfectly still.
My hands return to my lap, fingers loosely curled now. The fight has drained out of me, replaced by the familiar waiting.
The pill doesn't kick in instantaneously, though I wish it did.
I have learned that on an empty stomach it comes on faster, maybe fifteen minutes, so I always skip breakfast. The late afternoon dose takes longer, because I can't go so long without food.
Either way, when it takes me, I know the signs.
First, my limbs will start to feel heavy. Not unpleasant, just weighted. Like I'm sinking into the chair, into the floor, into the earth itself.
Then a sort of buzzing starts.
It begins at the base of my neck and spreads outward, a low hum that drowns out everything else. My thoughts slow and I feel my heartbeat relax. The sharp edges of my world soften until everything is muted and distant, and this place doesn't look like hell but more like a nice place with grittiness.
Once I feel that, then I can start my day.
Then I can go upstairs and let Olga dress me like a doll and pack my suitcase and smile when Maxim tells me to smile.
But not yet, not until the drug takes hold.
So I sit and I stare at the window across from me and wonder what my father is doing right now. If my sister still paints and if my mother has her afternoon coffee at that cafe across from their house.
A noise somewhere in the house startles me and I look around the room at the empty chairs. I hate them. They're a constant reminder every single day that I am alone.
That no one is coming.
My throat tightens, and I press my lips together, forcing down any sad emotions.
Fuck, I need this to kick in, I think and rub my forehead as if I can massage the drug into my brain faster.
Besides, crying does nothing.