Sasha: Chapter 28

Screams tore through my dreams, waking me up.

I jolted out of my bed. My eyes darted left and right, disoriented. My breath clouded the air. Our home in Russia was always cold – no matter how many fireplaces were lit.

Nobody was here.

Maybe I dreamt it.

But still, I didn’t move. Vasili said we had to be on alert. There were people who wanted us dead, and we always had to be prepared. I listened.

Crash.

Glass shattering on marble. It sounded like lots and lots of dishes crashing against the floor.

“I hate him.” Mother’s voice was hysterical.

I stood up and rushed to the door. Someone had to be attacking if Mother was screaming. I left my room and found my mama pacing up and down the hallway, her hair matted, her eyes wild and little Tatiana in her arms, screaming at the top of her lungs.

And all the while she kept muttering. “He doesn’t love me. I’ll never be enough. He doesn’t love me. I’ll never be enough.”

I didn’t understand her words nor who she was talking about.

“Mama,” I called out.

Her pacing stopped and her wild eyes darted my way. She had blonde hair. Just like Vasili and I. Just like father. But her shade was different from ours.

“Sasha, get back to your room.” I remained in my spot. Her eyes shot my way, something unhinged in them. Hate. Disgust. Anger. No love. “You look at me with your father’s eyes. I can see him in you.”

I blinked, unsure whether that was good or bad. I didn’t like to anger Mother, but sometimes it happened whether I said anything or not. It happened more with me than Vasili. Maybe because there was a period when there was happiness when it was just the three of them.

Vasili said it had nothing to do with that, but I couldn’t understand what else it could be.

“Where’s Papa?” I demanded to know.

“You’re always going on about Papa. He doesn’t love you,” she snickered, shuffling the baby roughly between her hands. “He doesn’t love me. I don’t love you. Round and round we go.”

Something sharp pierced through my heart. I rubbed my chest. But I didn’t cry. I was a big boy now.

Mama roughly switched the baby into her other arm. My little heart feared. I knew babies were easy to hurt. I didn’t want my baby sister hurt. I wanted to protect her. Vasili and I would protect her – from everyone.

“Where’s Papa?” I repeated, ignoring the ache in my chest.

“He’s chasing his little whore and her bastard,” she hissed. I didn’t know what that meant, so I just stood there and stared at my mom. “No matter what I do or give him, he chases his whore.”

“Father is good,” I said, glaring at her.

Her lips curled in disgust. “You’re just like him. Worthless.”

My brows drew together. Father wasn’t worthless. He was busy taking care of many men under him. To ensure they all had food on the table and a roof over their heads. That’s what Vasili explained to me.

She shook her head. “You brought a curse to our family, Sasha. You weren’t enough. He found another woman because I was busy with your constant crying and whining.” She lowered her gaze to Tatiana. “Just like this baby. Always crying. Always whining.” Her eyes returned to me and the hate in them was like a punch in the gut. Without realizing, I took a step back as if she hit me. “You’re so unlovable. No woman will love you. Just like your father. Unlovable.”

“But you love him,” I pointed out in a small voice.

“Never enough,” Mama muttered as she started to pace again. “Never enough. He doesn’t love me. I’ll never be enough. You can’t make someone be yours.”

Mama kept going round and round, muttering to herself. And all the while Tatiana kept screaming her head off. She was turning red, and I feared her head would explode.

Suddenly, Mama stopped and lifted the baby as if she was readying to throw her through the air. My lungs squeezed. My head throbbed. My eyes stung.

“Mama!” I croaked, scared that anything would set her off into her rage. They have become more frequent lately.

With my baby sister still high above Mama’s head, high-pitch screams filling the air, Mama’s eyes lowered to me.

“Give me Tatiana,” I rasped. “I’ll feed her the bottle.”

Mama’s eyes met mine and held my gaze. I prayed she saw Vasili right now, not me. We were similar enough physically.

She hated me. She loved Vasili.

A heartbeat. Another one. Then she finally lowered her arms. I held my breath, pulse buzzing in my ears. I extended my hands slowly. She was only born a few weeks ago. I wasn’t as good as Vasili at holding a newborn.

The moment Tatiana’s warm little body, bundled up, came to me, I took her and held her close to my heart. She still cried, but it wasn’t as high-pitched as mere seconds ago.

“I’ll never be good enough,” Mama muttered. I didn’t understand anything she was saying. It didn’t matter whether she said it in Russian or English. She rambled like a lunatic. “Just like you’ve never been enough.”

Her eyes met mine, her face twisting with rage. I braced myself, sheltering the baby in my arms. She started walking, but instead of coming at me, she passed me. It was then I realized the direction.

The balcony.

I followed her, cold fear gripping my heart.

“Mama?” No answer. She opened the doors, the cold winter air instantly pushing the cold into our home. “Mama?” I tried again.

She glanced over her shoulder. The lost, crazed look in her eyes. “I’m going to jump, Sasha.”

“No, Mama,” I said in a small voice. “No, please.”

She cackled, crazed, her hair flowing through the wind. Last year she had it colored brown, but when Papa didn’t like it, she changed it back. The color wasn’t the same as before. It was duller. Kind of like her eyes.

“Please, Mama. Stay,” I reached out with one hand, while still holding Tatiana with my other. “Stay for me. I’ll be good.”

”You’ll never be good enough. Not for me. Not for your father. Not for anyone. Nobody will stay for you. Better get used to it now, Sasha.”

She took a step forward and her body flew through the air, falling with a loud thud onto our courtyard.

Screams and shouting filled the air. My throat squeezed.

But the only thing I did was get the bottle and feed Tatiana.