My heart is thundering and I can feel my blood circulating my body as it beats. It’s like I’m pulsing from behind my eyes all the way down through my fingertips to my toes. My clothes are uncomfortable. I’m too hot. My skin prickles.

I left without saying anything.

What am I more angry about? Lera moving out or mom selling her organs. Again. As though once wasn’t bad enough. Lera hiding behind her reasoning like it’s for the greater good, as though her leaving is fine and not a big deal. She doesn’t deserve this and neither does mom. It’s infuriating. I don’t understand how this same thing keeps happening. This spiraling mess of worsening circumstances.

I think I might have broken something if I stayed there at the cafe, lashed out maybe. It’s rage inducing, like they’re being punished. For what and by whom.

What does mom even need the money for? There aren’t really any unexpected expenses I can think of. There’s day to day living; survival consisting of food, water and electricity. What does she need the money for? It must be important-

I’m walking the wrong way, too distracted by trying not to start bashing the pavement in. I’m halfway up the street from the cafe and going towards the park, I’ll have to circle into the same back-road I’ve been using everyday and walk down towards the shop district.

Like I would really turn around and walk back down the street and past the cafe like an idiot.

Why does mom need the money, what does she need it for? Selling an organ must mean it’s important. Which means maybe it won’t be hard to find out about either. Appointments, business cards, adverts, even her tiny green book where she records spending and debt. There should be some way for me to figure out what’s going on.

As for Lera… She’s right but she’s still wrong. Renting out her room, helping to bring in more money, they’re all nice thoughts until you consider their consequences.

I wish school hadn’t been canceled last week. I wish I could have killed Stosha, killed her friends… then killed myself. None of these problems would have appeared. I just know inside of me that Lera would have moved back in, that everything would have been for the better. No boxing up belongings, no selling organs, no fighting with Lera or hiding from Radovan, just the clean slate of a slightly better world.

It’s like we’re all in quicksand and each day we’ve sunk just a little further. Who’s responsible for it, these worsening circumstances. I don’t think I am. Someone would probably tell me if I was. It can’t be dad’s fault. He’s not even here.

All this… This shit-

Movement in the shadows of the back-road jars me to the present. A Neon green sneaker begins stepping out of an inset doorway a few meters in front of me. White socks cling to an ankle before bulging from black tracksuit pants being tucked into them. A navy blue sleeve of a tracksuit decorated with white stripes follows a clenched fist.

Lubov stares me down, radiating violence. My arm is already up and tingling. I’m not sure how it got there.

He takes a single step when the air snaps. Lubov rocks to the side before falling backwards. His head makes a sickening hollow crack sound as it bounces off the wall behind him. He collapses but seems conscious at first, his limbs stiffly extended down his body as they appear to hover above the ground. The uncanny pose he’s taking on quickly reveals that he is not conscious, but suffering some kind of - hopefully minor - brain trauma.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I mutter under my breath.

I didn’t mean to splatter his brain against one side of his skull or even kill him.

Several steps clears our distance and I reach for his neck and pulse. Only, I can’t, my arm is dead and no use. I quickly put my left hand forward instead.

A beat, but shallow, sluggish.

Relief floods me and I try to get up and step back not really knowing what else to do. Except I stumble to my hands and knees and begin panting, my body hardly capable of supporting itself.

At least I didn’t kill Lubov, from what I can tell. Radovan would’ve dragged me to a dead block and bleed me out if I killed one of his guys after stealing from him.

Should I try leave? I doubt I can. Lubov has seen me though but maybe his head being smashed will make him forget.

I strain to move my head and look down the back-road as my lungs try to carry the weight of having just sprinted a marathon. My greater power feels like it hits me with exhaustion the same way it hits other people with force.

I want to check we’re alone in this back-road before I decide what to do. Almost drunkenly, my eyes trace the walls of the back-road further and further down the street only to freeze as I realise there’s a man approaching. Spurred by panic I quickly look up to the shopping district side. Another figure approaching. This one thick like Kostas.

Somewhere it feels like a plug’s been pulled and I’m draining down it; my energy, my stomach, my chest. I’m empty. I collapse down face first, my body no longer able to support me.

This is it. This is when they find me. I can’t even run, but why would I. Only guilty people run. This is when I need to convince them.

It was just a shove, Lubov and I shoved each other and he hit his head. Easy to think some fiend was trying to mug me in a back-road not too far from the park. That’s believable.

I don’t have the gun or money or anything at all on me. Nothing incriminating. But what do I tell Radovan?

They’re getting closer. I can make out Kostas’s pudgy features now from the corner of my eye and hear the gravel crunch under their stride.

My chest is panicking for breath, erratic contractions up to my throat in a desperate attempt to get enough air.

It wasn’t me, obviously. I didn’t steal anything. I checked on Lera but her door was locked so I left. They all saw that. I didn’t have a bag or anything, nowhere to hide what I stole. I wasn’t even rushing-

“Artyom, check on Lubov.” Radovan’s crisp voice ends my thoughts. “Turn the kid over.” His accent sounds delicate because his words are clearly spoken.

Kostas’s meaty frame closes in and flips me over with the tip of his boot. It doesn’t hurt, much.

I hear Radovan’s shoes crunching against the compressed gravel as he comes closer.

“Is he awake?” His question hangs as he looms over me from the edge of my vision.

I must look a mess if that’s the first question.

Kostas crouches down without a word and paws at my face with his fat hands. I don’t even manage to make eye-contact with him through his fingers.

“Мозг закружился.” Kostas grunts out. “Но проснулся.”

Brain rattled. But awake.

“Lubov is out cold.” Comes Artyom’s drawl from the wall. “The back of his head is bleeding.”

“Make Lubov comfortable then come hold the kid down.” Radovan says calmly. Not a hint of malice or drop of venom in his voice.

Kostas stretches my dead arm out and pins it to the ground. A few moments later Artyom does the same with the other.

It’s pointless for them to hold me down. I can hardly move right now even if I wanted to.

“I didn’t kill-” I start, struggling through the constrictions my chest is undergoing.

“Aleks.” Radovan takes a single step closer. “Why have you been hiding from me?”

I can still only see the shape of him. My eyes dart as I try to think of the right answer.

“I thought he was a fiend. I just pushed him-”

Radovan’s voice cuts through my babbling. “Slap him.”

My vision rocks as Kostas rolls my head around. I think I can taste metal.

“Why have you been hiding from me?” Radovan asks again.

Kostas grabs my head and pulls it up from its lull.

I try to twist my arms but all I get are a few twitches from my left side.

“Shortwave.” I manage to get out. “The shortwave said to stay inside.”

“So you stayed home.” Radovan repeats, sounding unconvinced.

I try to nod while on my back but only manage to tense my neck muscles.

Radovan moves closer. “Except for today, and yesterday, and the day before that.”

How does he know?

“I wanted to see my sister.”

Radovan steps up to my left side. Artyom gives him a nod and Radovan puts the heel of his shoe on my forearm. He doesn’t wear flashy sneakers like the others. No. Radovan wears highly polished, almost black, dark-brown loafers. The sharp heel presses uncomfortably into my flesh.

I start to struggle a little, to twist my arm out from under his shoe but he only presses down harder.

“The Kruna stolen? Petty cash.” Radovan states as he slowly relaxes his heel. “Kruna that Kostas takes from to buy his smokes, that food is bought with, Kruna used to grease palms, pay for transport or packages. Petty cash. Little expenses no one cares about.” He talks about the money with a distaste that seems to physically grip him. “It’s what the stinking fiends brought in on that day.”

He begins grinding his heel into me painfully and I can’t help but try to twist away.

“Like a stray dog, this Kruna, this petty cash, it stinks.” He pauses, heel and all. “Do you understand? Tell me what I’m saying.” Radovan demands.

I fidget, trying to ignore the phantom feeling of blood flowing into my hand again. “The money is dirty.”

He brings his heel down again, twisting.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about the money, Aleks.” He hisses. “It means I don’t care. This filthy money means nothing.”

I grunt more from the pain than understanding.

“If you had come to me I would have given you the money no questions asked, because why not. You would never steal from me after that. Loyalty bought with kindness.” Radovan finishes smoothly

“Деньги растут на извергах.” Kostas quietly chuckles.

Money grows on fiends

“I didn’t steal it.” I start, trying to squeeze my innocence into whatever Radovan’s plans are. “I couldn’t have. I didn’t have a bag and was wearing a t-shirt. I couldn’t have stolen enough money to bribe people with. If I had anything on me then Lubov and Artyom would have easily seen.”

I expect Radovan to stomp on my arm but instead silence fills the back-road.

“Не знаю, босс.” Kostas says from my right. “Иногда у него есть сумка, иногда нет.”

“Artyom?” Radovan prompts.

I dunno, boss. Sometimes he has his bag, sometimes he doesn’t.

They’re almost talking too quickly. It’s hard to keep up with the native tongue.

Hasn’t Radovan already made up his mind? He would only be asking now if he isn’t one hundred percent sure. I still have a chance then, to convince him and also ease Lera’s doubts. He came off as being so determined of my guilt.

“Bag or no bag,” Artyom mulls his answer over. “can’t remember, boss.”

I deflate slightly.

“Your story is weak. If not you, then who?” Radovan spits. “Kostas or Artyom have no need to steal dirty money, they are all paid more than they deserve.”

“Спасибо, босс.” Kostas grunts. Artyom can’t help but chuckle.

Thanks, boss.

“When I left, I saw someone. A fiend maybe. He was down along the side of the drug house where Lera’s windows face. I was only at the drug house for a few minutes and that’s all I saw.” No one’s stopped me so I suck in breath and go again. “Everyone knew there was a gun in the drug house, too many fiends have seen Kostas showing it off downstairs.”

“Slap him again.” Is Radovan’s only reply.

I grit my teeth before Kostas’s meaty hand reaches me this time. My vision swims and one of my ears is ringing. Kostas didn’t hold back much this time, almost understandable after my not entirely positive portrayal of his actions.

Faintly, from a little too far away, I hear their voices.

“-окно могло быть открыто, когда я вернулся, босс. я уже не помню.” Says Kostas sounding unhappy. “Он просыпается.”

-window could have been open when I came back, boss. I can’t remember anymore. He’s coming around.

“The line for you between thief and unlucky is too fine.” Radovan says with annoyance. “I don’t have what I want, Aleks, and it’s going to become your problem.”

He removes his shoe from my forearm and begins pacing above my shoulders, left to right. It’s like he’s choosing which arm or maybe even which side of my head.

I try to speak without really knowing what I’m going to say but Kostas stops me by yanking and crushing my arm with his bulk. A firm shake of his head removing any doubts that the conversation side of this is over.

“I know what you want, Aleks. I know what you value.” Radovan stops above my left arm again. “Have you ever wondered about the girls in the drug house? The ones that must have called you cute and tried to get you to drink or even buy drugs for them. Have you ever wondered where they come from and where they’re going and why it is that you only ever see them once?”

I don’t know what reaction Radovan wants from me but I don’t reciprocate.

“These girls are ultimately sold, bought and paid for. The demand is so high that some are sent out of country, others even overseas where their life will wither into flashes of drug induced cravings and satisfactions. They are the real money, whores and whores to be.”

I can hear the smile in his voice as he looks down on me.

“Then there’s your sister, Lera. A girl, like the others, and yet… She remains. How much do you think she’s worth, Aleks, how valuable do you really think she is? Why wouldn’t I just send her away like the other girls to be broken-in to a life of whoring. I think she could pay for all the trouble of a new gun after only a few months.”

He’s bluffing. He’s known Lera for years. He’s just bluffing.

“To break the girls they put them in a little room much like a prison cell, nothing else but a tiny bed. Where they beat them. Then they beat them again. Then again. It’s remarkable how quickly their humanity is crushed, how quickly violence changes their mind. They beat them again but never their face. That’s for the customers to decide for themselves. The girls are given drugs too, forced into addictions to make them even easier to control. Lera is almost halfway there when you think about it.”

He sounds amused by his own words and implications.

“Maybe one of these days, when Lera passes out for a good twelve to sixteen hours after shooting wads of Kruna into her veins, she’ll wake to find herself restrained in the back of a car. On the wrong side of the border I would guess, without any identification or passports. Those always have to be burned beforehand.”

Radovan turns and begins pacing again. “I can see it in your eyes, Aleks. You don’t believe me.”

“These girls, when you pay, you can do anything you want to them. Anything. Anything but killing them. Can you imagine the types of men these places attract? Take Lubov for example.” Radovan gestures back to Lubov near the wall. “What do you think he’s going to do when he steps into a room with a girl like Lera? Try to flirt with her as he removes his clothes? No. Lubov is a man of aggression. That’s why I pay him. He would step into the room and beat her until she can’t move."

He returns to my left side and puts his heel back on my forearm. Radovan tilts his shoe up until the back edge of his loafer’s heel is cutting into me.

“What about the other men, the ones who like to burn, the ones who like to whip.” He begins to grind the edge into my arm. “What about the men that like to watch women suffer? All those men have to do is pay the right price.”

“I get it!” I find myself shouting. “This is my problem!”

I gasp for breath and swallow spit as Radovan waits patiently for what he wants to hear. Once I’ve inserted more calm into my voice I speak again.

“I’ll look for the money and the gun and try find-”

“I don’t care about the Kruna.” Anger touches Radovan’s voice. “But what I do care about, what I want, is the gun, Aleks.”

Failing my attempt to nod again I have to speak and it’s somehow so tiring. “The gun. Yes. I’ll look for the gun. It will take a long time but I can look. A month or maybe-”

“But, Aleks, as luck would have it, I can’t wait a few months.” He turns to Kostas. “When’s our next meet?”

“Не знаю, босс. Может пару недель?” Kostas shrugs.

Dunno, boss. Maybe a couple weeks.

“I need the gun before then. Do you understand, Aleks? Answer me.”

“Босс любит наган.” Kostas murmurs.

Boss likes the negant

“A couple weeks to find the gun.” I answer. “I get it.”

“And if you don’t, Aleks.” Threat lives in his words. “If you come up with no possibilities, no options or no gun, Lera will get me a gun one way or another.”

Radovan removes his shoe from my forearm and I can’t help but try twist free from Kostas and Artyom’s grip. I want to be left alone.

“How is Lubov?” Radovan asks, turning to Artyom.

“Concussion.” Says Artyom from my left side. “He is like a bad drunk and will need help the same way.”

“Время обеда, босс.” Kostas interjects. “Вернемся и поедим.”

It’s lunch time, boss. Let’s go back and eat.

“I’m busy after this.” Radovan replies. “You two will have to take Lubov back with you.”

Why haven’t they left yet? Isn’t it over?

I hear Radovan’s loafers crunching over the compressed gravel again.

“This is for making me waste my time hunting you down.” Radovan growls.

His shoe blurs as it slams down onto my forearm. I hear the muted internal sound of my forearm snapping clean in two. The pain causes more pain as I try to ball around my wounded arm, only to find I am still pinned to the ground, and me pulling at my limbs has jostled my broken arm around.

I let out a ragged cry and even that hurts.

My arm. Fuck! My arm. How am I supposed to do anything with only one arm? Ambit’s, training, running, anything! All I’ll have is more damn image training as I sit and rot. More excuses, more inaction. More time for these spiralling fucking circumstances to spiral further.

It hurts. Bone jamming itself around in my flesh.

I can’t let it keep happening. I can’t let it go on like this. One fuck up after another. Always reacting. Never doing, never using my violence.

I’m in a ball, I realise. My broken arm cradled against my chest. They let me go. They must have left. No chance am I going to look around. I can easily lie here for another few hours and let the pain of my arm subside. Let my body recover a bit more from using my greater power too.

Fucking Radovan. Lera can’t stay there anymore. I have to get her out as soon as possible.

I’ll follow him. I’ll stalk him and find every little back-street mugging he has a finger in. I’ll find where he lives. I’ll find his big operations. His small operations. I’ll map them all out and then I’m going to kill him and every single one of his rings too.

Only then will Lera be safe. She’ll need to detox, but she’ll be safe.