Page 52 of Alik

14

ALIK

My eyes burn with an intensity that has me blinking every other second, so I pause looking at my screen to rub my eyes.

Every time I think I’m getting somewhere I come to a dead end. My brain feels like it’s been put through a food processor and turned to mush, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

I raise my brows, stretching the skin of my face in an attempt to wake up, but all it does is make me yawn.

“Fuck!” I growl, picking up the glass on my desk and hurling it against the wall as I stand in one motion. It shatters into bits on my living room carpet.

I roll my neck and shake out my hands, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind, but all I can think about is sleep. And Olive. Sleeping with Olive in my bed, my arm wrapped around her tranquilized form.

I don’t know how I’ll ever find Vitaly without going to Russia. But going to Russia means leaving Olive, and I don’t know how I could do that either. Not knowing the danger she’s in, the dangerI’min, if she’s caught.

Yanking open the top drawer of my desk, I seek out my cigarettes and grab the pack, slamming the drawer closed beforestomping to the window. I’m a few feet away when a knock sounds on my door.

I glance down at my bare wrist, remembering my abandoned watch on my dresser, then look out the window to gauge the time instead. The first hint of a sunrise casts a low light over the street below, but the stars still twinkle in the sky.

My guard is up when I go to my door, and I half consider getting my gun but am too concerned with being suspicious. If it’s Sergey or another brother, I shouldn’t appear bothered to see them, especially with the news they’re bringing.

I glance at my bedroom with hesitation before opening my front door, my hand casually planting on the jamb to block the visitor’s path inside.

It isn’t Sergey.

Or another brother.

Purple Lipstick Lady from down the hall glares at me with her now pale lip curled in a sneer that drips with hatred. Her blonde hair is wound into rollers that sit on top of her head. Those, along with the pink, long-sleeved pajama set, somehow make her appear angrier instead of ridiculous.

“Yes?” I ask, peering down the hall as if someone more noteworthy might appear behind her.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Her face reddens brighter than her pajamas while my head rears back.

“I—”

“It’s six in the morning, you…” She growls, and when I look down, her fists are shaking. “You have neighbors! We don’t want to hear your sinful behavior in the middle of the night or you breaking things in the early morning! Whatever fight you and your… your, heathen girlfriend are having, have it during a respectable time! Or in a counseling office! What iswrongwith your generation?”

My hand slips from the doorjamb. “You’re right. I apologize.” I go to shut the door, but she slaps her hand against it to stop me.

“Youapologize?” she seethes. “You’ve woken me upmultipletimes tonight, and youapologize?”

“Look, I’m sorry about the crash on the wall. It won’t happen again. I’ll try to keep it down.”

“That’s only a fraction of it.” She huffs. “Your girlfriend’s moaning is the worst. Find someone who isn’t a slut. Then you can apologize to me.”

“What did you just call her?” I ask, my jaw tightening.

Her feet seem to dig into the floor, like she’s literally standing her ground. “You heard me. That tramp?—”

Her words stop in her throat as she sucks in a gravelly inhale, her eyes bugging as we both peer down at the knife protruding from her gut.

It happened in an instant, just a blur at my right, so for a moment, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. My eyes find Olive’s just as she viciously yanks the knife from the woman’s gut and drives it back in, causing a strangled cry to come from Purple Lipstick’s throat.

My eyes must be as wide as the woman’s now. When Olive goes to stab her a third time, I shove her backward and yank the woman inside where she falls in a heap on the tile. My heart racing, I check the hallway for any witnesses before quickly shutting the door and spinning to face Olive. She’s crouched on the floor with the knife tipped at Purple Lip’s nose as the woman struggles for breath.

“What was it you called me?” Olive asks her. “A slut?”