He’s sitting with his back to me. He jerks violently when he hears my voice. “A-Alyssa?”
I take a tiny, cautious half-step forward. “It’s me.”
He leaps to his feet and turns to face me. His movements are as slow as mine. It’s almost like neither one of us wants to spook the other. His eyes are wide and his jaw is hanging open. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve done the right thing. Just because he’s been asking for me doesn’t mean he wants to see me. Doesn’t mean he needs to see me. Doesn’t mean seeing me won’t tear his fragile mind to pieces.
“Alyssa,” he murmurs again.
“Is it okay that I’m here, Lev?” I ask, gnawing the inside of my cheek. “If it’s not, I can go.”
His bottom lip quivers a little and then suddenly, he’s running full-tilt towards me. He grabs a hold of me, buries his face in the crook of my neck, and starts bawling. I’m reminded of just how big he is. I can barely stay on my feet with his six foot-two frame collapsing down on top of me.
I run a hand down his trembling back again and again. “Hey, Lev, it’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”
Words. Just meaningless, useless words that I spew out because I don’t know what else to do or say. I don’t believe them and I don’t know that even he does.
When he settles down a little, I walk him back to the bed and we sit on the edge together. “Are you okay?”
He shakes his head, though I’m not sure if that’s a yes or a no. Considering the number of tears on his cheeks, I’m gonna have to go with the latter. I take a tissue and wipe the tears off his face.
“Why d-didn’t you come to s-see me?” he blubbers.
“I’m sorry, Lev. I wanted to, but… it’s complicated.”
His frown is heartbreaking. “I thought you were angry with me.”
“No!” I exclaim adamantly. “Of course not. I could never be angry with you.” I take his hand and, while he flinches a little, he doesn’t move out of my grasp. “Why would you even think that?”
“B-b-because… e-everyone is a-a-angry with m-me.”
The stuttering is new, too. It happened before but not so violently or so frequently. I squeeze his hand a little tighter. At least he doesn’t seem to be too uncomfortable with my touch. “Can you take a deep breath for me, Lev? We’ll both breathe together.”
He gives it his best effort and, after a couple of breaths, he seems in a slightly better position to talk. “Okay—now, who else do you think is angry with you, Lev?”
His jaw trembles. “U-Uri.”
I frown. Uri? He’s always so patient with Lev. I can’t imagine that that’s changed. But then again, I’ve probably missed a lot while I’ve been trapped down in the basement.
“Uri is angry with you?”
“He says he’s not. B-b-but he doesn’t spend time with me like he u-u-used to. He doesn’t have t-t-time for games. He d-doesn’t even e-e-eat with me a-a-anymore. S-sometimes, he even yells.”
“At you?”
Lev nods. “B-b-but mostly at other p-p-people.”
Guilt. Hot and relentless. So much fucking guilt.
“Listen to me, Lev: no one is angry with you. It’s just that your brother has been under a lot of stress lately. It’s not personal.”
Lev looks at me as though he doesn’t understand. The thing is, I do. I understand that Uri is so terrified for his sister that he’s not able to be there for Lev in the same way he used to be. And he has to be going through a lot if he’s dropping the ball with Lev.
But it’s not like I can explain why Uri is under so much stress. I have no idea if Lev even knows about Polly’s absence. For all I know, Uri might have told Lev that she’s back in boarding school. Lev wouldn’t question that.
“Hey, do you wanna go for a walk with me?”
His eyes go wide with panic. “No. They’ll take me again.”
“Who?”
“The bad men.”
Ah. There’s that guilt again.
“The bad men are gone, Lev,” I assure him, though my throat is clogged with emotion. “No one can get through these walls. You’re safe now.”
He looks skeptical. “I like this room. I want to stay here.”
“Please, Lev?” I try. I know pushing him may not be the right thing to do here but I so badly want to help in whatever way I can. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I think a walk might do you good.”
He looks uncertain. “A small walk…?”
“A small walk, sure. You can hold my hand the entire time. And hey, if we stop by the kitchen, maybe we can have ourselves a cereal feast. What do you think?”
He tilts his head to the side, intrigued. “Okay.”
I squeeze his hand and get to my feet. He looks up at me, aimless for a moment before he gets to his feet, too. He cringes against the sunlight when we step into the hallway. It takes him several minutes to adjust to the brightness before we can move downstairs.
Reaching the kitchen feels like a victory. George is in there, slurping noodles out of a bowl. His eyes go wide when he sees me enter with Lev.
“Lev, buddy! You’re out of your room.”
He sidles a little closer to me. “I didn’t want Alyssa to leave me.”
“I think this calls for a cereal celebration,” I decide, leading Lev over to the chair beside George’s. Once he’s situated, I pull out every kind of cereal the kitchen cabinets have to offer and fill my arms with a stack of bowls. I pour Lev a flight of cereals and we laugh, pretending to be sipping wine and praising the notes of honey and cinnamon and this and that. By the end of it, Lev actually cracks a smile.
George glances at me over Lev’s bent head. How did you do this? he mouths at me.
I just shrug and turn my attention to Lev, who’s wolfing down this third bowl. The truth is, I’m not sure how I did it, either.
All I know is that I did something good today.
And that feels like freedom.
16
ALYSSA
It’s amazing how quickly the loneliness can set in.
The walk through the garden is uneventful. After Lev goes back up to his room with George, I wander over to the pool and stare at the ripples in the water that the wind is making. It looks so inviting. So does the option of discarding my clothes and jumping in.
My pregnancy feels like it’s progressing at an alarming rate. But then, I suppose having twins will do that to you. On the downside, it also makes me uncomfortable in my skin. I’m just not used to the belly or how my breasts seem to have doubled in size in the last week alone.
But I’ve been caged up for too long—in a basement, in emotional purgatory, in baggy clothes so Uri can’t creep on me through the cameras. So now that I’ve had a taste of fresh air and sunlight, I want to feel those things on my skin.
I pick out one of the bikinis that Uri bought for me ages ago. It’s dusky pink and pretty risqué compared to the round-the-clock outfit of sweatpants and a hoodie I’ve been wearing since my jail sentence in the basement began. But I feel good wearing it. My limbs feel lighter.