After an hour of driving, I felt someone leaning over me and taking off the bag that was over my head.
Afanas sat, unsmiling, in the seat in front of me.
Two-9-millimeter pistols were shoved into his jeans as it was the most casual thing in the world.
I tried to look out the tinted window but all I could see was shapes and outlines of the rood as we drove.
I turned my gaze to Afanas.
He could have been incredibly good looking...you know, if he wasn't exactly who he was.
Dark eyes and dark hair, with a tall, indestructible build.
My eyes kept glancing to his tattoo.
"You're a lie and I'm the truth..." I mumbled softly, repeating the Russian words his tattoo read.
His eyes darted towards me, "What did you just say?"
I leaned back in my seat stiffly, "N-Nothing."
He leaned forward, "It was fucking something. What did you just say?"
I shook my head, "It's just your t-tattoo." I motioned towards his neck.
His hands went to his neck and he gently touched it.
"It's in Russian. How did you know what it said?"
I shook my head. FUCKFUCKFUCK. Why can't I EVER just keep my goddamn mouth fucking shut!
I opened my mouth but no explanation came out.
He sat forward and his face came closer to mine.
"Have you understood everything that we have been saying? Do you speak Russian?"
There was absolutely no way out of this.
"I..uh.." I couldn't find anything to say.
"Ty govorish' na russkom yazyke?" /"Do you speak Russian?"/
My lip quivered and I nodded.
He cursed under his breath.
"You're not a spy, right?" He asked, his eyes were deadly.
I shook my head, "No no no, I swear."
"If you are a spy, I'll fucking slit your throat right now. I'd be doing Velkov a favor."
I let out a silent sob and lowered my head.
"Hey hey." He grabbed my chin and I felt his nails cut into my skin. "You tell no one, okay? Do you fucking hear me? They'll kill you. If they find out, they'll think you're a spy, or someone sent to kill the boss."
"W-why do you care?" I asked and winced as I felt his nails dig into me.
"I don't." He muttered as he pushed off of me and my head hit into the window.
"You won't tell anyone?" I asked quietly.
"Nyet. I won't."
I swallowed down my tears and I felt relief flooding through me.
"You don't look like a New Yorker." He muttered. "You don't even fucking talk like one. Work om your accent. Your Russian accent comes out and stop crying. It's annoying as hell."
I nodded and set my jaw to keep it from quivering.
"Why are you even in America?" He asked. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. His hand brushing against his pistols.
"A few years back. My parents were killed in a shooting and I.." I shrugged "I needed to get away."
He said nothing. No condolences, no questions.
"Do you know the answer?" I asked. "To the riddle?"
"Of course, I fucking do. It's permanently tattooed on my goddamn neck." He shook his head, his eyes still closed. "Do you?"
I think I do. I was thinking about it a lot.
I think it's life and death. Life is a beautiful lie that everyone lives and choose to believe, and death is the evil truth that people refuse to accept. death is the only truth in this world and people live believing in life to cope with the raw truth of death."
I didn't know if it was right. But it was the only thing that made sense.
I looked back to Afanas to see his eyes open and staring at me. The second I looked at me, they closed but the tip of his lips pointed ever so slightly up. An action that most people wouldn't notice, but I did and this half-smile was enough to know I was right.
A few hours later, the car fell to a stop and the doors flew open.
Afanas looked at me, an understanding fell between us, a secret.
Men surrounded the car and I felt myself pulled out.
My heels hit the concrete and I felt myself stumble back.
I hit into something hard, like a fucking wall and my heels slipped out under me.
I fell to the ground and stiffened when I looked at the shadow of the wall.
Not a wall. A man.
My hands shook and I slowly turned my head until I was looking into the eyes of satan himself.
***