Let Me Burn by Elodie Colt

1

Ella

Anxiety has a taste.

Sharp, bitter, and strangely invasive like the burnt toast I forced down this morning when I got that stupid thing from the drug store. The tang intensifies in my mouth with each passing second that I stare at the thin, white stick in my hand.

I drum my fingers on the basin behind me, my foot bouncing on the bathroom tiles. I don’t blink. My stare scorches a hole into the display. Fuck, it’s not even a display. Just a crap-ass small, oval window that has been blank for the last five minutes.

Cocking my head to the side, I squint. Is that a second vertical stripe appearing on the screen? It could be just a trick of my eyes. I could swear the gray is a tad darker there, but when I tilt my head to the other side, the picture stays the same.

One gray stripe.

Shuddering out a breath, I check my watch. Six minutes. Waiting time is over.

“Not pregnant.”

My words bounce off the tiles, echoing in my brain. Okay, rewind, please. Wouldn’t the usual line in this case be ‘Thank God?’

Thank you, God, for agreeing with me that I’m as ready to become a mother as a pimp is to become the pope. Thank you, God, that I’m not carrying the child of a man whose face I’ve never seen. Thank you, God, for doing the world a favor and not thrusting a child into the hands of someone who wanted to kill a man who might—sooner or later—kill her.

And yet, that’s not what I feel when that ugly, white stick starts to shake in my hands. Because now, a different taste explodes in my mouth, harsh and coppery and disturbingly acrid.

Disappointment.

Grunting, I fling the plastic stick into the basin. My butt cheeks already show red dents from the toilet seat, and I dart up, shoving my panties up my ass and flushing the toilet.

“You need to get your brain checked,” I mumble to myself as I turn on the faucet to wash my hands.

It’s been three weeks since my last Silent Sins date with Ross. We hadn’t used a condom in our haste, and I wasn’t hot on waiting for my missed period to find out if something was growing inside me. I’ve been feeling ill ever since, along with the constant urge to throw up, so I figured I’d better hedge my bets before I nibbled on the next vodka bottle. Turned out it was just my stomach punishing me for the gallons of ice cream I’ve wolfed down the last few weeks.

With an angry shake of my head, I grab a handful of care products and throw them into a vanity bag. The dragonfly pendant bounces against my breastbone with my jerky movements.

I wonder what Luka would do if he ever saw a baby in my arms. My own flesh and blood. Would he finally accept that he will never be a part of my future? Or would it flip the last switch inside his deranged brain, and he’d kill us both?

‘eNtimacy assumes no liability if you get pregnant,’Kate had told me that day I signed up for Silent Sins, and I clearly remember my mental response.

No worries, I’d thought. Hell will freeze over first.

Closing my eyes, I drill the heel of my hand into my forehead. My phone lying on the windowsill knock-knocks with an incoming Silent Sins message, but I don’t react to it. Not visibly. Only my body responds to the sound, my pulse speeding up inside my ribcage like a sports car shooting out of the pits on a racetrack.

I’d heard Ross’ heart breaking that night I pressed the yellow button. It cracked along with mine when I walked out the door. Since then, Ross has sent me dozens of messages on repeat. Apologies, promises, vows. I left them unanswered. We are over. The sooner we come to terms with it, the better.

‘I love you.’

It’s as if my brain has auto-recorded the three words whispered into my ear that night, replaying it with painful clarity. Every time they tumble in my head, a leaden knot in the shape of a mace wedges right behind my tongue. I swallow, but the motion feels like tearing gashes down my throat.

‘I wouldn’t have said those words if I hadn’t meant them. Every fucking letter.’

I’d told him to take his words back. To think about what he’d just said because he couldn’t possibly mean them. He came to know a side of me no one else got to see, but still, he only got to see one version of me. The one without a face, two fake names, and a noncommittal attitude. He only knows the bits and pieces I revealed, and a few charred ones he’d clawed out of me in the Room, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. And probably a shit-ton more he’d dredged up since he did some digging behind my back.

But he still doesn’t know me. Not the whole me.

Not the person I will always be, no matter how many oceans I’ll cross or how many identities I’ll adopt.

‘Ella…’

Just four letters, but the impact they had when they rolled over his tongue had been mind-blowing. I hadn’t realized until then how much I longed for him to say my name. I’d felt each purred syllable taking roots somewhere deep inside my chest. I loved it. I hated it.

And now, I can’t fucking get it out of my head.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Despair is written all over my face. My gaze drops down to my dragonfly pendant, and I lift my hand, tracing the contours of gold. Susan McElroy told me at the fundraiser it had been a piece from her collection. Her shop is just a few blocks down on Brighton Beach boulevard. Does Ross live close by? He said he lived in a highly secured building on one of the top floors. Brighton Beach isn’t that fancy, so chances are he’s from somewhere more central to Brooklyn. Or Manhattan. Or Queens. Who the fuck knows?

I open the clasp behind my neck and remove the pendant, letting it drop into my vanity bag without a second glance.

‘We crossed paths some time ago,’he admitted that day. ‘Shortly after New Year.’

Where had I been back then? Holed up at home mostly, nurturing my system with 40% alcohol straight from the freezer, sleeping pills, and unhealthy self-pity. A few times up in Manhattan, too, as far as I recall. He said he’d recognized my tattoo. He must have been quite close to make out the image of a dragonfly.

I glance down at the branding on my wrist. It’s unique, for sure, but that alone couldn’t possibly lead him to make the connection to me, could it?

Sighing, I shake my head. There’s only one thing you can’t hide in the Room—your voice. Add the Russian accent that makes my ‘r’ rumble like a purring wildcat, and a smoky voice that rivals Joe Cocker’s, and it will point to only one person in the western hemisphere. If Ross had ever been close—close enough to hear a simple ‘hello,’ a soft chuckle, fuck, even a low moan—he would have recognized it right away.

“Then why didn’t you talk to me?” I whisper to my reflection, hating how wistful I sound.

You know why,my rational voice answers.

As soon as Ross realized who I was, he went on his mission. He said he hadn’t followed me that day he recognized me, but I know he’d followed me somehow. Snooped around to dig out my name, my birthday, hell—maybe even my address. He knew about Luka, knew how much I’d suffered and what I’d given up to escape him, and yet he’d followed in his footsteps. Stalked me down just the same. Fucked me under the pretense that I was still an unknown identity to him, that he knew as much about me as I knew about him. Lied to me for months, abused my trust, and played on my insecurities.

So, why on earth should I believe him when he said he loved me?

Because deep down, you know he spoke the truth.

I huff, closing the zipper of the vanity bag and tossing it onto the windowsill. It doesn’t matter. Perfect match or not—I need to purge him out of my system. Luka will never let him off the hook. He already got too close once. Ross told me he’d ‘dealt’ with him. Granted, Luka hadn’t contacted me ever since, but I know him. As long as he’s still alive, he’ll crawl on all fours to get to me, no matter how much Ross will threaten, torture, or maim him. We can never share a relationship as long as Luka is lurking in the shadows. I would constantly worry about Ross’ safety, fearing for his life as soon as he stepped out onto the streets, waiting anxiously for him to come home.

And Ross? Knowing his fierce need to protect me, he would keep me on a short leash—attaching bodyguards to my ass, watching me twenty-four seven, never leaving me out of sight. I would live in a gilded cage—safeguarded, sheltered, loved—but a cage nonetheless.

My phone knock-knocks again, and I sob when I fetch it to log into the Silent Sins app. As long as I feed Ross hopes and empty promises, he’ll always try to woo me into a relationship.

Better to go for a clean cut. It will heal faster.

Devonport: Leave me alone. We’re over.

* * *

I chewon the inside of my cheek, fixing my stare at Kate’s door. Guess this will be the last time I’ll see her office from the inside.

“You can do this.” I give myself some mental pep talk before I lift my hand to knock and step inside.

Brown corkscrews bounce on Kate’s head when she turns to me. The two inches of brighter skin on her temple is the only sign of the awful attack last year.

“Ella.” A warm, welcoming smile breaks out on her lips. “It’s so good to see you.”

She sails over to me to pull me into a hug. I try to relax when she squeezes me, but it seems I can’t fool her. Pulling back, she regards me with a frown.

“Is everything okay?”

I crack a fake smile. “Uh, yeah. I came here to… talk to you about something.”

My demure tone conveys that we’re about to have a difficult conversation, but she just nods and asks, “Coffee?”

“No, thanks. This won’t take long.”

Throwing me a leery glance, she glides toward her desk and motions for me to take a seat opposite her. “What can I do for you, Ella?”

I sit down in the leather chair, cradling my helmet in my lap. Kate probably thought I came here to extend my Silent Sins subscription. She won’t be happy to hear that I’m about to do the opposite.

I swallow down the dryness in my throat, thrusting out my chin. “I’m here to report a breach of privacy.”

Kate arcs an eyebrow, leaning forward and entwining her hands on the desk. “I take it this has to do with you pressing the yellow button last time you were in the Room with Ross?”

Gripping my hands together, I give her a curt nod.

She squints her eyes, peering at me. “How did he invade your privacy?”

My voice is strangely off when I give her my forced reply. “He uncovered my identity against my will.”

“And by uncovered, you mean… he dug up the information by force?”

“Yes. I never told him my name nor anything else that could give away who I am.”

“How did he find out, then?”

I grimace. “He claims we’ve crossed paths some time ago. He recognized my tattoo and did some digging. Now, he knows my name and possibly everything that goes with it.”

The pause following my response unnerves me. Kate regards me as if not trusting my sentiment. As if I’m about to make a big mistake.

Not a mistake. The one right thing I should have done months ago.

“Ella,” she starts in a cautious tone, “you know our terms. Silent Sins assumes no liability if you ever stumble into your match outside of the Room.”

“We didn’t stumble into each other,” I argue. “He didn’t talk to me. I didn’t even have a fucking clue he was in my periphery. He had a hunch who I was and chased my ass to dredge up everything there was to know about me.”

She raps a finger onto her desk, analyzing me with a probing gaze before leaning back in her chair.

“You could just kick him out of your list of matches and be done with it. Why put him in the pillory?”

“Because he violated the terms,” I say through clenched teeth, the words scratching over my tongue like a jigsaw, but I ride the pain. If I want to ensure his safety, I need to go all-in here.

“I thought you liked him.”

That’s exactly why I have to do this. “He went too far.”

She gives me a wry look, silently communicating I should think this through one last time.

“Kate,” I say, gulping before lowering my voice, “you know how much I value my privacy. You know I only signed up for Silent Sins because eNtimacy guaranteed me absolute anonymity. Within six months, I’ve had two men tearing down my safe walls, and one of them went as far as putting you into hospital.”

My look is pleading as I wait for her response. I don’t want to screw Ross over, but I need to make a statement here. Dropping out of Silent Sins may not be enough to stop him. I need him to stay away from me. To forget me. To move on.

“Fine, then,” she says at last. “I’ll prepare the report. You’re aware that you won’t be able to have any more Silent Sins dates with him, yes? The algorithm will mark you two as incompatible for the future.”

Pressure builds inside my core as I pull my Silent Sins bracelet out of my bag and place it down in front of her. A bangle of black rubber that holds memories, broken dreams, and a piece of my heart. I already feel naked without it. “No Silent Sins dates altogether. I won’t extend my subscription.”

Kate looks puzzled for a moment before she opens a drawer and pulls out a stack of forms. She slides them over to me and hands me a pen. For a moment, I eye the printed letters, my mind far away.

“I’m sorry, Ella,” Kate says in hushed tones.

I bop my head. “Me, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m not a Silent Sins member anymore. My account is closed, the app only one of many that will stay untouched in my phone’s menu; storing messages, notifications, and invitations I’ll never receive.

A part of me is relieved that it’s over. Meeting Ross had always been a ride on a rollercoaster—thrilling and electrifying, but also dangerous, taxing, and unhealthy to some extent. All these secrets and questions had messed with my head. Before we met last time, I knew we’d come to a point of no return. Silent Sins liaisons are like friends with benefits—fun in the beginning but cruel in the ending. Not meant to last but always leaving a trail of broken hearts.

After purchasing a new phone at some electronics shop, I make my way home. The spring sun throws glowing streaks of light over my helmet’s visor, the warm wind whipping my hair behind me as I push my bike down the street. The weather is beautiful—clear, bright, promising. The opposite of the destructive thunderstorm wreaking havoc in my heart. Life from now on will be different, and I don’t have high hopes that it will turn out for the better.

After parking my bike next to the sidewalk, I take the six floors up to my apartment. I purposely avert my gaze when I step up to my door where the number six dangles directly in front of my face, and slip inside. Just as I set my helmet onto the counter, my old phone chirps with an incoming message, and I pull it out.

Unknown ID. Always a bad sign.

Anonymous: Well done.

I scoff. Doesn’t take a detective to figure out who sent the text. I’d signed my Silent Sins divorce papers not even an hour ago, and Luka is already in the know. He even went as far as communicating via phone.

“Guess my stalker is still an issue after all, huh?” I say to an invisible image of Ross, mocking him for his naivety.

With a grunt, I cock back my arm and smash the old device to the floor. A crack resounds as the display breaks, but I’m far from done. Fuming, I fetch a rolling pin from the top drawer in my kitchen, slap it against my palm once, and batter the device until there’s nothing left but broken bits.

It’s only a matter of time until Luka finds out my new number, but first, I need to cut all ties with Ross. That guy is resourceful. He sent that crazy dude to keep me from pulling the trigger that night at Prospect Park Lake. There’s no way he could have known where I was without tracking my phone or my bike or whatever. Well, I don’t have the heart to destroy my Honda Hornet, but getting rid of my old phone is a start.

When I’m assured that the thing is done for, I storm out into the hallway where the smart security camera records the entrance. Sneering, I flip the lens the bird—just in case Luka is enjoying some reality TV—and smash the thing to bits. Splinters of metal and plastic fly in every direction, but I continue my ravage until the camera sloughs off the ceiling.

The door opposite mine flings open, and I swing around to see a shocked Mrs. Smith hobbling out, a gnarly hand covering her mouth as I stand there with the rolling pin and a wicked smirk on my face.

“I’m going to call the police, young lady!” She points a warning finger at me, but I just snort.

“Mind your own fucking business for once,” I mutter before I vanish back inside.

A pent-up sigh escapes me as I fling the rolling pin onto the counter. Two heavy bags are packed, sitting lonely by the door. My aquarium is already set up at Zoya’s along with the rest of my stuff. I grab the package with my new phone in it, rip it open, and turn it on. When the device has booted, I punch in Zoya’s number that I know by heart and press the call button.

“Zoya Benson, hello?”

“It’s me,” I say. “I’ve got a new phone.”

“Got it. You ready?”

“Yeah, you can pick me up.”

“I’m on my way.”

Exhaling through my nose, I end the call and stuff my phone into my jeans pocket. Funny how a place that’s so familiar, a place I’ve called home, can feel so foreign and empty all of a sudden. Then again, nothing has ever felt like home since I left Belgorod. Home is where the heart is, right?

And where is your heart?the angel inside me wants to know.

In Russia, of course,I answer.

No, the devil tosses in with a dark chuckle. Don’t fool yourself, darling.

Dropping my shoulders, I grab my bags and walk out the door.

Home was him. Home was his voice and his body and his love.

And what did I do?

I turned the key and threw it away.