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My descent into the underworld is happening faster than I had anticipated. Viktor is ruthless, completely unwilling to hold back even though I’m with him.
I chose this, I know, but the intensity of the day has put a weight in my chest that I don’t think is going to go away for a long time, if ever. What I’ve witnessed can’t be reversed. It stains my mind like the memories Viktor is too afraid to tell me about.
Maybe I’ll end up like him after all is said and done, and that scares me more than anything else. When I look into his eyes, I see the sadness now. He’s not just a cruel man, born without a heart. It was stolen from him when he was too young to understand the world, and it broke him permanently.
I didn’t think I would feel so bad for him, but it’s clear now that his character is built on trauma and cruelty. The universe dealt him a bitter hand, and he did what he had to in order to turn around.
I’m not suggesting that he’s not responsible for the man he is or the terrible things he’s done, but I understand why he’s the way he is now. It makes me sad, but it also brings me closer to him. Closer to my husband.
I’m still getting used to that. Even though I wear a ring on my finger, when I look at it, it feels like plastic. It’s much too heavy to be, though, but that doesn’t change that all of this is fake to me. Legally, we’re married, but spiritually, we’re miles apart.
But it’s one of those things where once you take the leap, you can’t go back. Bridges have been burned, and people have already died for our union. There really is no return.
Viktor’s hand slips into mine, giving me a bit of comfort as we walk into his casino. It’s the same one we were at last night, only without many patrons because of the early hour. Things get busy later, but hopefully we’ll be out by then.
“How long until Johnny arrives?” I ask quietly as we pass one of the blackjack tables.
“Five on the dot. He’s late sometimes, but I don’t tolerate it more than once a month, and he’s already used up his late days,” Viktor replies.
I look around for a clock before remembering that there are none. Time barely exists here for the gamblers, and without windows, it’s impossible to tell how long you’ve been gambling without your own watch or phone.
And I have neither.
“What time is it now?” I ask, trying not to be annoying. I can tell that Viktor is stressed by how much stiffer he is. I feel like I’m holding hands with a tree.
“It’s fifteen minutes until go time,” he replies. “Want to take a spin on the roulette wheel?”
I look up at him, curious why he would ask. “I’m not sure. What’s the stake this time?”
He smirks. “A bullet with Johnny’s name on it.”
Satan is calling my name and my guardian angel is nowhere to be found as I follow Viktor to the roulette table. I never was a good girl. I skipped church on Sundays and one time I shot a spitball straight into one of my teachers’ eyes, but this goes beyond petty behavior. This is the big leagues, and I’m stuck in it like quicksand.
Instead of fighting it like I should, I’m letting it take me under. It’s mesmerizing, far different than I imagined it would be like. I don’t know why losing control feels so good, but it does. It’s like a blanket of shimmering velvet over my shoulders, protecting me from the frigid conditions on my descent to hell.
I always thought it would be hot down here, but as it turns out, the devil is an ice king with blue eyes and tattoos on his throat.
“I think red is a good bet,” Viktor says, pulling out a revolver and placing it on the roulette table. The croupier doesn’t even blink at the weapon. He must be used to seeing them from Viktor. Anyone else would get pounced on by security.
“What’s the bet, though?” I ask, sitting down on a swiveling stool.
Viktor takes the gun, popping open the spinning chamber and pulling a bullet out. He places the brass nugget on the red square on the roulette table. “This is for our little friend. If I win, I get tofire it. If you win, then you get to fire it,” he says, his voice deep and surprisingly calm.
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” I ask, feeling a prickle of sweat on my hairline. “You act like I want to shoot him.”
“It might help you blow off some steam,” he replies.
I laugh, playing with one of the curls dangling from my bun. My hair is put up so tightly that it’s starting to give me a headache. “Um, maybe that would help you relax, but letting my hair down would be better for me.”
“Let it down then, but I need your confirmation on the bet,” he says.
“Do I have to?” I ask, removing a clip from my bun. The woman who did it put so many in that it feels like it’s going to take an hour to get them all out, but the payoff will be worth it. It’ll be like taking my bra off after a long day out.
“You wanted to come here, so you’re part of the game. You can’t sit it out,” Viktor says, rolling the bullet back and forth over the red square with his pinky.
“So, I want red, then,” I say. “Or black. Or red. Isn’t the game rigged, anyway?”
He chuckles. “Yes, it is. I’m glad you’ve realized that. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter which color you choose because I will decide your fate when the ball drops.”
