04| I Will Always Find You.

As I near the lake, I make the decision to defy Dmitris' request and go my own way. 

There is an abandoned warehouse not far away from here, with one of my father's emergency vehicles stored inside. 

I will take the vehicle and drive to the little studio my father brought me without telling anyone, including my mother.

He said that if a time ever came when I will need to escape for my safety, the studio is the one safe haven I can rely on. 

Inside, it will have everything I require to get me out of the country undetected. 

I take a right turn that leads to a back road, which I cross before jogging through an open paddock to the warehouse.

 Huffing and puffing, I open the door wide and stagger towards the vehicle, pulling the cover off to show a battered pickup truck.

I groan, "Seriously dad?" I huff as I struggle to pull the truck door open.

As I get inside the vehicle, I search through it, looking for the key and I find it hidden under the driver's seat. 

It takes me a while to get the old girl humming, but as soon as the engine is warm, I slam on the gas and drive myself directly to the studio, making sure to check my rearview mirror every thirty seconds.

By the time I park the truck around the corner from my studio in a desolate reserve, the sun has set and the moon has taken her place, perched high in the sky with stars strewn around her.

Putting my father's worn-out boots on my aching feet, I rummage through the cargo bed, retrieving the petrol can from it along with a flare gun that my father had stashed in his hunting bag. 

The carnal beating of my heart pounding against my chest entwines with the cool breeze circulating me; it drums out everything that surrounds me until I am left with the brutal stillness of emptiness.

As I pour the petrol over the truck, all I can think about is: my parents are dead. Everyone I loved at the villa, is dead, and I don't know why. 

Who would do such a thing?

Either way, tonight the world burns.

I step away from the truck, aiming the flare gun at the trail of petrol I left, and I watch it ignite.

The heat from the consuming flames sweeps over me. It kisses my flesh with a searing sensation of wrath.

The odour of scorching paint pervades the air, burning my eyes and stinging my nostrils.

 The heat of the raging inferno drives me to perspire. It glistens off my flesh, contaminating the gown my mother had got me for my birthday.

It feeds the fury within me as I let the flare gun slide through my fingers and hit the ground. 

Clenching my trembling hands, I peer down at the filth that streaks my gown. 

My mind drifts to Dmitri as I am still trying to figure out why he showed up all of a sudden. 

As the crackling sound of the vehicle burning grows louder. My lips pull downward as tears streak my face. 

 I welcome the billows of black fog encasing me. I don't blink. Cough. And I certainly don't take a step back or shy away from the captivating flames. 

I admire the destruction, the devastation that I've forged.

Wishing that my father could see me now.

It's beautiful. Therapeutic. And it's only the beginning. 

This is the first step in my new life; alone, afraid and full of so many questions.

The smell of burning rubber becomes toxic, exploding glass sears through the air and the roof of the truck sags and then caves. I imagine the look on my parent's faces before they took their dying breath. 

My heart turns black mirroring the night's sky as it blankets me.

I wipe the tears from my face with the heels of my hands, suck in a sharp breath, and I turn away from the truck that continues to crackle behind me. 

As I reach the studio, I place the pad of my thumb on the scanner, the red light blinks green and immediately the locks on the door churn as they unlock, and the front door pushes open.

I step through the door, resetting the alarm and I make my way across the room, pulling open the closet doors, and I see a backpack hanging up with a note attached to it.

- Open me in case of an emergency -

I remove the bag, unzip it, and dig through it until I locate a black voice recorder. 

Walking to the foot of the bed, I sit on the mattress, building up the courage to press the play button. 

I sigh, taking the plunge as time is getting away with me. 

"My beautiful Zeynep," The studio is filled with the sound of my father's voice.

"Daddy..." I cry out, staring at the black device that possesses my father's voice.

"If you are listening to this, it means that your mother and I are no longer alive; walking through life by your side." His voice shakes as he releases a gusty sigh. "I am sorry because we didn't get the opportunity to see you get married, have children, and live a happy life. All I know is that after returning home from Russia, my entire life has revolved around you and your mother. There are a lot of things that you don't know about your mother and myself, things that we tried to shield and protect you from. But it seems that our past has caught up to us and we were too late to tell you the truth." 

I continue to gaze at the voice recorder, unable to blink for fear of missing something crucial he may be saying.

"Whatever it is that you might find as you walk through life on your own. I want you to know that your mother and I love you. The day you were born... I have never been so scared in my life, but as I delivered you, holding your little body in my arms, it became the best day of my life. You are everything I could have wanted in a daughter and so much more. Thank you moya prekransnaya doch' [my beautiful daughter], for giving my life purpose." His trembling voice causes an endless stream of tears to spill from my tear ducts.

"Inside the backpack, you will find everything you need to leave the country. Money, a new passport, and a new I.d. There is also a small list in the bag indicating which countries are safe for you to enter, and the addresses for the safe houses that you can move into. If there is one person that I trust to keep you safe, Zee. It is Dmitri, if he is alive, go to him and let him know that we are dead. I love you, be safe, stay alive and always be cautious. I am sorry that I failed you." 

The recording ends. 

The studio quickly becomes still with a silence that is deafening. 

I have so many questions and the one person he wants me to seek solace from is the one man I refuse to give the time of day.

 Dmitri Orlov belongs in my past, and that's exactly where I tend to keep him. 

I tuck the recorder back into the backpack, and I walk into the bathroom, opening the vanity mirror. 

A set of silver scissors and a box of hair dye demand my attention. 

Not only will Dmitri be left in my past, but Zeynep Volkov will also have to be left behind, and to be quite frank, I'm not even upset about it. 

Not in the slightest. 

Removing my gown, I stand in front of the basin, looking at my reflection in the mirror with the pair of scissors in one hand and my hair in the other.

I take a deep breath and make my first cut right above my shoulders. Taking it all in as if I was cutting a bit of my mother out of my life.

 The first cut was the most difficult.

I have her red hair and now I am going to dye it black. 

I rub the dye into my hair, being cautious to apply vaseline across my forehead, over my ears and the back of my neck so it won't stain my fair skin.

After forty minutes or so, I jump into the shower, watching the dye swirl around my feet and into the drain until the water runs clear.

I lather a decent amount of conditioner into my scalp, trying to mask the potent smell of my freshly dyed hair. 

Looking up, I let out a scream and drop the towel that had been loosely wrapped around my torso as I walked into the area where the bed is. 

I still my thumping heart as my eyes narrow into thinly dead slits, "What the fuck are you doing here?" I snarl at Dmitri who is standing by the bed with a smirk on his face. 

He approaches me cautiously, like a predator preparing to attack, and bends over to pick up my towel, which he then dangles in front of me while licking his lips. 

"Didn't I just tell you, there is nowhere that you can go where I will never be able to find you, printsessa?" He growls with an underlay of desire coating his words.