50 - Blaine.

"Try me."

I shake my head. "No, I can't go there."

"It's your childhood, isn't it?"

"My childhood is hazy at best."

"From what age?"

"Anything before fourteen years old is pretty blank." I know it's blank because I've blocked it out. It would take some effort to unlock those memories, but I won't. Nothing good can come from unlocking the closet that holds my skeletons.

I'll drown in the darkness if I do.

"Okay, how about after fourteen?"

I shrug. "I moved to America when I was fourteen." That's my cover story, as I don't mention Toronto, not to anyone other than Oak.

"Who with?"

I bite my tongue as I often try not to think about him. "My older brother, Ivan."

"And where is Ivan now?"

"Gone."

She looks a little irritated by my short answer. "Dead?" she confirms.

I nod, hating the way it feels when I think about him.

We were two naïve boys when we arrived in Toronto, thinking we could find jobs and make a life for ourselves away from the darkness of our childhood in Russia. We had plent