02-06-2018, 02:08 PM
Ivan parked in the old neighborhood and opened his door. Just being here made him feel some semblance of normalcy. He took some comfort in that. But he looked around, watched for parked cars, a van, something that might indicate they were being watched.
The worst part, the VERY WORST PART, the part that made him feel like there were chains around his legs now, was the realization that they fucking didn't need to watch him, now. He knew he couldn't be everywhere. And they had dirty cops working for them- whoever they were. Which meant that anyone he went to for help might be one of them. (Them....he was tired of calling them that.)
So short of packing his family up right then and there and moving them into hiding- where and how he had no fucking idea, nor how they would live- they could get to them at any time.
Which means they owned him, right now. They could give him freedom because they knew he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.
He walked up the steps and opened the door. Not even locked. At least it hadn't been kicked in. He found ma and pop in the living room, the two youngest, Ana and Viktor, in their arms. He wondered if they would tell the older children, Sofiya and Pavel. They had families of their own, husbands, and children. All very little, of course.
All in the cross hairs. Because of him. Because of him, and a stupid mistake.
No. Because of that bitch. And his father's friend, a man so close he called him Uncle.
His mind refused to make the final accusation, refused to name the last reason. Couldn't. No....he couldn't.
But pop's eyes were filled with tears and fear when they met his, only briefly, before looking away. Shame. Ivan went to his ma and hugged her to him tightly, Ana and Viktor. Pop seemed to shy away, but Ivan wasn't going to blame. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"I am glad you are ok,"
he said with quietly. They didn't look hurt, not physically. But that vow hardened, steel to diamond, seeing the terror in their eyes. He would make her pay. All of them.
Ma looked tired. This had happened once before. he remembered her look in the video. Maybe she had always lived in fear of this. No wonder she hadn't wanted Ivan to join the force. It hadn't been verbal, exactly, not really. Just comments. Telling him about what others from the neighborhood were now doing for work. Stuff like that. In hindsight, she had been trying to protect her oldest, something she couldn't do for her husband. And her children.
They were all caught in it, he realized. Trapped. And always had been. And all this time he thought he had been free.
His voice was calm, but only because he couldn't let himself feel anything else. "Pop, can we talk? In private?"
He didn't want Ana or Viktor to hear. They were 10 and 11. Old enough to understand adult conversations.
Pop nodded, gave Viktor a hug. "Crisya, let me talk to Vanya."
Ma gave him a flat look and pop sighed. "Please. I have to explain it to him. He deserves to know."
Ivan didn't think that was what the flat look was for.
No. he knew. That there was something to explain at all. Pop knew it too.
They went into the kitchen. Pop poured a glass of Vodka, offered him one. Ivan didn't. He already was having a hard time concentrating. He just sat down at the table and waited. The question was unnecessary. And he wasn't sure how to ask without making accusations.
Pop seemed to wait, hoping he'd break the silence. Finally, he realized it wasn't gonna happen.
The worst part, the VERY WORST PART, the part that made him feel like there were chains around his legs now, was the realization that they fucking didn't need to watch him, now. He knew he couldn't be everywhere. And they had dirty cops working for them- whoever they were. Which meant that anyone he went to for help might be one of them. (Them....he was tired of calling them that.)
So short of packing his family up right then and there and moving them into hiding- where and how he had no fucking idea, nor how they would live- they could get to them at any time.
Which means they owned him, right now. They could give him freedom because they knew he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.
He walked up the steps and opened the door. Not even locked. At least it hadn't been kicked in. He found ma and pop in the living room, the two youngest, Ana and Viktor, in their arms. He wondered if they would tell the older children, Sofiya and Pavel. They had families of their own, husbands, and children. All very little, of course.
All in the cross hairs. Because of him. Because of him, and a stupid mistake.
No. Because of that bitch. And his father's friend, a man so close he called him Uncle.
His mind refused to make the final accusation, refused to name the last reason. Couldn't. No....he couldn't.
But pop's eyes were filled with tears and fear when they met his, only briefly, before looking away. Shame. Ivan went to his ma and hugged her to him tightly, Ana and Viktor. Pop seemed to shy away, but Ivan wasn't going to blame. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"I am glad you are ok,"
he said with quietly. They didn't look hurt, not physically. But that vow hardened, steel to diamond, seeing the terror in their eyes. He would make her pay. All of them.
Ma looked tired. This had happened once before. he remembered her look in the video. Maybe she had always lived in fear of this. No wonder she hadn't wanted Ivan to join the force. It hadn't been verbal, exactly, not really. Just comments. Telling him about what others from the neighborhood were now doing for work. Stuff like that. In hindsight, she had been trying to protect her oldest, something she couldn't do for her husband. And her children.
They were all caught in it, he realized. Trapped. And always had been. And all this time he thought he had been free.
His voice was calm, but only because he couldn't let himself feel anything else. "Pop, can we talk? In private?"
He didn't want Ana or Viktor to hear. They were 10 and 11. Old enough to understand adult conversations.
Pop nodded, gave Viktor a hug. "Crisya, let me talk to Vanya."
Ma gave him a flat look and pop sighed. "Please. I have to explain it to him. He deserves to know."
Ivan didn't think that was what the flat look was for.
No. he knew. That there was something to explain at all. Pop knew it too.
They went into the kitchen. Pop poured a glass of Vodka, offered him one. Ivan didn't. He already was having a hard time concentrating. He just sat down at the table and waited. The question was unnecessary. And he wasn't sure how to ask without making accusations.
Pop seemed to wait, hoping he'd break the silence. Finally, he realized it wasn't gonna happen.