WORTH KILLING FOR

TATIANA

“I know she died when you were twelve and our father married her sister right after. You disappeared and turned into… this.” I gesture with my pinned wrists. “Whatever this is. Tell me, is that why you killed them? If it is, then you’ve got less character than I thought. Twelve years is a long time to hold a grudge like that.”

“Stop talking.”

I push against his hold, testing for any weakness. “Or is that the problem? You planned the murders down to the second but you didn’t plan what to do with me afterward, did you?”

He lets go so suddenly I stumble. My shoulder hits the wall. I’ve hit a nerve. I know it.

“You want to know what I planned?” He steps back, picks up some of the clothes I’ve thrown around, and holds them out like an offering I don’t want. “I planned to kill you too. But then I thought… such a pretty face would go to waste. Also your father hid something before he died. Something people have killed and will be killed for. You're going to help me find it."”

I rub my wrists. Red marks are already blooming there. I don't alert him to the fact that he just told me what he's after but I feel the necklace under my collar get hotter, my fingers itching to touch it.

“You said you wouldn’t sell me,” I say, looking up at him in horror.

“Oh, did I?” He stops, shakes his head. “If you don’t shut your mouth and eat, I might just change my mind.” He takes in a deep breath, his arms akimbo like a father berating a petulant child. “You’re here now. You’ll stay here. And you’ll stop trying to kill me because it won’t work and it’ll only wear us both out.”

I pick up the shirt he dropped. The fabric is soft and worn, probably his. “I’m remarkably persistent. It’s one of my few virtues. My book club can attest to that.”

“You don’t have a book club.” He shakes his head but I could see his tensed shoulders visibly relax.

“I did.” I meet his eyes. “Every Thursday at Mrs. Patterson’s. We talked about Austen, ate terrible scones, and pretended we weren’t all trapped in lives that felt like cages. It was the only time I was allowed out of the house without a chaperone."

Kain stays quiet for a long moment. Then he says, “There’s a library here. Down the east corridor. If you are good, I might let you use it.”

“Is that a bribe?”

He moves toward the door. “You can read there. Or here. The outer door stays locked either way. Your effort earlier was a wasted one.”

“Of course.” I ball the shirt up in my fists. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from my jailer.”

He stops with his hand on the doorframe.

“Viktor is not a good man,” he says to the empty hallway. I wait to hear more from him, why he is somehow convinced our father was the evil one, thinking I finally got the block of ice to melt. But what does he do?

He walks off and closes the door, locking me in once more.

I stand there holding his shirt and tasting his words. All I feel is rage. How dare he taint my father's name after killing him. I mean, dad had his shortcomings but he was good to me.

I walk over to the mirror above the dresser. The blood on my face has dried into rusty patches. I look like a girl who has survived a bloody massacre. Which is technically true. Except right now survival doesn’t really feel good.

I pull the necklace out from under my collar. The pendant Dad gave me on my 18th birthday, as compensation for not being allowed to celebrate it with my non-existent friends. I was under strict instructions never to take it off. I turn it over in my fingers.

I'm thinking too much, it's just a daughter’s keepsake, nothing more… all I have left of my family. My tears finally break loose like a damaged dam.