Rush
I was holding a knife. A blunt, serrated, steel knife with a smooth shiny surface. My reflection a slight blur on top of it, as it glinted in the bright kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the glass panes of the windows, a nostalgic warmth that I didn't know I would miss so much. The normality of the situation as well, as I dragged the cold knife against the smoking hot pancakes to cut a more manageable piece that I could chew inside my mouth. The taste of it melting against my tongue like the butter it was smeared in. A perfect balance of sweetness and texture.
The clatter of knives and forks was the only thing that kept the silence dead in the kitchen and the whole house. The lively noise that made the atmosphere seem like it is dwelt in, otherwise the lack of Ivan and his nosiness wouldn't have been distinguishable as it was most of the time. This was a change from the mundane routine and I couldn't help but confess that I liked it more in comparison to being shut in that room all day with the ceiling as my sole choice of focus.
Dimitri liked the pancakes. I could tell he did as he took another serve of it from the plate on which the rest of them were kept and used butter again to have it with. It made me feel a little proud, he seemed to appreciate what little bit of cooking I could do.
"We could have this more often, I think." I frowned as I dropped my eyes down to my plate and started to cut another piece, trying very hard to not look at him. Perhaps it was a bad idea after all, trying to test the waters now and how far I have been able to warm it up.
"That would be nice, until Ivan comes back of course." My movements ceased briefly, but I tried to pull out of the shock as quickly as I could. He finally did acknowledge Ivan's absence with actual words which he hadn't before. It was just an assumption that I had because I wasn't too sure. For all I knew, he could have been with Liza in that place, downstairs, underground, or I don't know what else to call that space.
"Any idea when that might be?" I silently prayed to God for making it seem like I was trying to just have a casual conversation with him instead of prying for information. Dimitri was no fool, he knew already.
"Soon." I could sense him trying to pull out of the topic, but I didn't want it. Again, he knew what was going on, so he interrupted me before I could utter a word from my already open mouth. "What would you like to have for dinner?"
He was very good at what he did. Manipulation. Control over another's mind.
"I-I don't know." It was the first time I had been asked of my opinion on something. Such a strange feeling, unknown too. After being with these two men for so long, I almost forgot what it was like to have a say in matters or how it felt to have opinions that were acknowledged by others. Or maybe I just didn't care any more.
"Anything, whatever first comes to mind." He took another bite of his pancake, unaware of my fisted hands clenching the fork in one and the knife in another. Nothing, absolutely nothing came to mind that I could use as an answer. This whole time I have been here, I have wanted nothing more than freedom for not only myself but Liza too, from these two men who somehow have the astronomical ability to turn a blind eye to the morality of the whole situation.
Liza used to like Cheesecake.
"A baked vanilla and raspberry cheesecake." Liza always had a sick sweet tooth which she couldn't shake off no matter how much she tried. So many resolutions, so many detoxes and diets that only ever got spoken of without any practical application. She used to ask me to slap her or snatch the food away from her if I ever saw the act of guilty pleasure taking place. I knew it was all in vain since almost all her meals throughout the day were desserts or mildly sweet. One of those weird things I liked about her.
Dimitri chuckled. A low rumble as he smiled a rare smile and stabbed a piece of sliced pancake with the fork.
"A proper meal consists of proper proportions of nutritional elements. A cheesecake hardly cuts out as dinner, I think. I suppose, if you really can't decide then I will take the matter into my hands and try to order something that suits your taste." Order.
The flash of spark inside my head rattled me as it ran wild with all possibilities that could turn out in my favour. So many ways that I could finally reach the outside world even if indirect. It would be very risky but worth every try.
A person, a third or rather fourth or actually fifth party would come into existence in this cage even if they would just be at the threshold of the door. A normal, sane person, who would understand and possibly help me if I can get to give them a hint, or maybe I could write down something on a piece of paper or tissue or paper towel. There were two rolls in the kitchen that I could-
"What are you looking for?" The rush of excitement and adrenaline made me forget that I was still in the presence of my captor when my heart suddenly dropped with fear. He definitely noticed when I let my guard down and showed my excitement at a possible escape plan by searching for the very tools that I would use to do so. The paper towels sat on the counter near the stove, I saw them from my peripheral vision, but I dare not look at them directly. Anything was too easy an indication for him to understand what truly stormed in me.
"Honey." With my head bowed down, I shifted in my seat. It was surprising how good of a liar I was turning into. Instead of saying a suspicious nothing I chose a sweet condiment and prayed to everything out there to let this one thing go in my favour.
****
It was fascinating to watch Dimitri play the piano as I sat beside him. His long smooth fingers hitting the keys with such swiftness and perfect rhythm that it could fool anyone into believing that it was the easiest thing to do in the entire world. His body rigid, not the kind that makes people think that he is concentrating or putting too much effort but instead just an unmoving and practiced etiquette that professional pianists need to master in order to be truly an expert in their field and play in front of an audience.
People afar could be easily fooled into believing that he was just sitting on the stool and not playing the grand piano in front of him at all. His body stiff, a poised statue carved by an equally expert artist.
I didn't know if I should consider him a teacher after all that he did to me and Liza. The change in circumstances hardly made him suitable to have such a respectable designation in my eyes and yet here he was, insisting on teaching me after all those failed attempts to do so after I was brought here. It was either Ivan sometimes or some other incident that kept pushing his own wish to the back of the priority list and now that there was no Ivan and me having to be on my best behaviour for Liza, there was no other reason to not have what he wanted.
The clock ticked quietly in the background. Three thirty in the afternoon. The delivery guy could be on his way and might knock on the door any moment now. I was a little too aware of the thin piece of folded paper towel tucked in my waist band of my underwear, the only possible place I could use as storage since the full sleeved sweater dress had no pockets. I wonder if it was intentional.
Silence loomed heavily when Dimitri stopped playing. A swift end to an animated piece composed by Franz Liszt and Niccolò Paganini. La campanella, I wasn't surprised that he liked that composition. There was a rumour surrounding those two world renowned pianists, they were accused of selling their souls to the devil for such virtuosity.
"Chopin, Étude Op.25 No. 11, Winter wind." I almost didn't catch what he said when he started playing the piano again after a little pause. He didn't say it out loud, but I knew he wanted me to play with him as I joined in on my queue.
I have never really felt anxious when I played before but today everything seemed so much more intense than it has ever been. The gripping angst of failing held me tight as my fingers strained to remember what to play and how to play, how to push myself beyond and finally let go. Something I haven't done in such a long time. The last time I played the piano, it was a blur of memory that I couldn't even recall it, and yet I kept playing the piano in possession of Dimitri as he played beside me. Close and warm.
His arm reached around me as he let go and took charge of my side, leaving me to fill in a part of his. The rustle of his sweater against my dress, the warmth seeping in from him and the increasing vigour of the tune overwhelmed me to an extent that I just couldn't breathe any more or even keep my eyes open as I tilted my head back a little and tried to gasp in through my mouth. He was doing it intentionally, to steer things towards his own manipulation and unfortunately it was wroking. I was just a mere puppet in the devil's hands.
It was a rush of Déjà vu and I couldn't quite understand how and why I would feel that nor did I have the time to ponder upon it as Dimitri's hand snaked closer and closer around my waist until he was all that I could feel. His breath fanned my already warm ears and neck, while I tried to squeeze myself in his hold with hopes that if I do so then perhaps we won't be touching each other but obviously it was not a possibility that would come true.
My legs shook uncontrollably and even if guilty, I felt glad that he was holding me because otherwise I would have collapsed and lost my senses. Such blaze, such an anxious flush I haven't felt in so long. It was like a sinful drug that surpassed all guilt and compelled to taste it even after rehabilitation. There was no way that I could decide whether it was Dimitri or the bittersweet feeling of being able to play the piano again, or perhaps both, but I knew I was lost in this unnamed feeling that made me want to feel it forever.
Forever. Such a weak expression that obliterates into pieces so easily.
The tune came to an end but the fever that raged in me didn't, as I craved and heaved for the lost air I didn't allow myself to have. Limp and out of control I leaned against Dimitri's arm and arched my back with my head tilted backwards. I wasn't strong enough to support myself or stop what happened next.
My skin scorched against his cold hand which enclosed around my throat to hoist me up and face him. I'd rather not deduce who started the kiss first but it would be a lie if I said I didn't return back the exploit of gesture with equal fervour.
One moment I was sitting beside him and the next, somehow with some mystical capability, he managed to pull me on top of his lap, facing him with my fingers deep in his hair. His hands, one on the back of my neck and the other under my butt, made sure I wasn't moving or getting away. Our faces so close, the tip of his nose brushing my face every now and then, the earthy scent of his that engulfed me whole and just about everything cages me in him. An escape I didn't know was possible. The most shocking part of it all was that I wasn't even sure I wanted to.
