Submitting

Wilt

Things were eerily quiet. The record playing P. Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers did nothing to calm my nerves as I was made to sit in the same office for the second time that day after dinner. It wasn't Ivan this time but the devil himself who had his eyes closed and back rested on the majestic chair on the other side of the desk. His fingertips on both hands touching each other in a poise of calibrate relaxation.  I watched on edge as his chest barely rose up and down, making the slightest movement, assuring me that he wasn't a statue nor a figment of my imagination. 

He was very much here, in this room, with no one but me.

I have never been able to understand his actions before or predict them successfully but this time I didn't need much to assess why this present situation has come by. From the moment he found me with Ivan in this room with the closed door,  he hasn't said much except for the general direction of how things should happen which included ordering me to come with him here, after dinner. 

Fear was not the only thing I felt though as I wondered why he went out and left me here in the first place. Did he really go to buy groceries or was there one or more agenda on the list since it seemed very stupid of him to leave for a reason such fickle as that. Especially Ivan, the supposed butler after his loss on the bet, could've done so.

"I want you to start practising." I could barely hear him over the music, but the words came out clear. Confused at first, I decided to not say anything and wait for him to elaborate but of course, being who he is, he wants to hold a conversation.

"Practice what?"  Disrupting the train of my thoughts, he spoke as if he could read my mind and stop it from wandering into an unwanted direction. He sure did succeed as I was caught off guard with the numerous distressing list of things he could ask from me and I, unfortunately, wouldn't have many options. 

"Pianist." I wasn't quick enough to look away when his eyes opened and caught me staring. 

More silence followed as I took my time absorbing the monosyllabic word and its implication. 

It would definitely be an advantage as I would get to get out of the wretched room more and maybe even explore and find more weapons to conceal. Plus playing might help me recollect myself and beat the other worse things he might have planned in his tumultuous head. And yet so many pros couldn't beat the nagging singular con. How was this in his benefit?

Frustration hit me hard when I did the unthinkable and opened my mouth before I could even form a sentence in my head.

"Where were you today?" It came out less like a question and more like a command, if that is even possible. His eyes widened curiously as he stared and tried to figure out my mind.

"I was out getting groceries." I did expect that answer, but I didn't expect him to answer at all. This sudden change in me was new for me as well. I don't know who rubbed off on me. Ivan or Dimitri.

"And?" I had started the line, so I might as well drag it to the endpoint.

"I don't want you talking to Ivan. Make sure you don't." He got up from his seat and grazed a hand over his posh robe paired with comfy wide-legged sweatpants. His eyes still not leaving mine as he got around the desk towards the door when I stopped him in his tracks and stood in front of him, head tilted backward, looking up in those green pools, telling him what I dare not say out loud.

The conversation is not over.

My heart pounded hard against the ribcage as I suppressed the urge to gulp visibly and break the little bit of control I made to seem I have. The need for the most pressing answer was desperate as I couldn't get what I want from Ivan before. All because his timing is always a little too perfect in his favour.

"Where is Liza? Where the fuck is Liza?!" I jabbed a finger on his chest twice. The first time I touched him willingly and without him being the first one to initiate any kind of contact. 

A voice in my head did a huge woah as I flinched internally at the grave I was digging for myself. Deeper and deeper.

He kept looking at me without a single emotion on his face. Not even surprise as I breathed heavily with eyes wide. I had enough of his stupid, nonsense games and I wanted out. I will not put up with this bullshitery for another second because enough was enough. Calculative moves didn't work with him because he was always a step forward but not this time. This time I had the upper hand and the knife tucked in the waistband of the pyjamas I was wearing was proof enough.

I would kill him if I needed to.

Right now.

Right here. 

"The Rose has started to wilt." My anger knew no bounds when I slapped him right across the face. It was a split second of moment where his face didn't move the slightest bit making me wonder if I slapped him at all but the sudden inhumanely strong grip of his hands on my arms and my back crashing against the glass cupboards said otherwise.

Glass shattered everywhere with a metallic stench blinding my senses. I didn't know whose blood it was, but I could sense the panic bubbling inside me, ready to take control, but I couldn't let that happen. Yet.

My hand reached for my waist as I tried to use the secret ace I had in store, but maybe it wasn't a secret after all as it wasn't there any more.