BOOKS AND A NOTE

TATIANA

Kain Aleksei Morozov. That's the name I grew up hearing in whispers. 

He killed them all and when he got to me, he took my wrist instead.

I have been trying to figure out why since the car ride and I still don't have a satisfying answer. 

Right now I have nothing of value. I have no idea of the outside world or what would happen to my family’s estate. Although I am sure Julian would take care of that for me.  He’s good at his job.

I wasn’t even allowed to bury my parents. Kain is a very bad man

He said he wouldn't sell me, which I suppose is the lowest possible bar for reassurance and yet here I am, slightly reassured. 

I’m going to kill you  Kain, one day. I swear it.

No matter the weird excuse he has given his conscience to allow him to kill his own father in cold blood, I will make him pay for the lives he’s taken.

I go back to making my list. I haven't checked under the bed yet.

I find books there. 

I get down on my knees and pull them out. Three of them. They're not stacked neatly. It's like they slid there from somewhere, or got kicked, or were left without much thought. 

Two are in Russian, which I can read but slowly. The third is a translation of something German, a novel I've never heard of.

I turn it over and read the back cover. Then I open it to the first page because I need something to do with my hands and my head.

There's a bookmark already inside it with a torn piece of paper, folded once as a bookmark.

I open it and find it blank on both sides.

But the handwriting in the margin on the page. I don't recognize it. Just three words, pressed in with a dark pen.

She was right.

I stare at it for what felt like a long time.

The lock on my door clicks. The handle turns slowly, Kain stays there for a moment first, and then the door opens and he stands in the frame with his hands at his sides, looking at the scattered books on the floor and then at me.

He sets a new tray down on the side table and looks around the room as if amazed it's still intact this time.

"Oh look, it’s my Jailer.” I smiled sweetly even when my words tasted bitter. “I have missed you so much. Did you miss me.”

“No.” He said with a blank expression.

So shameless. You do not think I really miss you do you?

“I found your books," I grumble, rolling my eyes. "I hope you don't mind. And if you did mind, that’s on you. I wasn't going to be able to sleep without something to read and you didn't exactly give me a lot of options."

Did you write the words I found? I wanted to ask but suddenly didn’t feel like it. I had a feeling I would lose the books the minute I draw his attention to the words that’s so simple but seem not.

She was right.

Who is she?

Kain picks up one of the broken hairpins from the table and holds it for a moment, then sets it back down.

"The other two are in the door," I tell him. "In case you need to extract them."

He looks at me then. "You should eat," he says.

"You should give me something to write on."

The silence holds for a moment. Then he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and puts a pen on the tray.

Just the pen. Nothing else.

He pulls the door shut behind him. The lock clicks.

I look at the empty margins of the German novel on the table. I pick up the pen and open the book to the first blank page inside the front cover.