Before Falling Asleep

My room. I used to hide here from Berwald. He always pretended not to see me here. This was one place I could be alone in. Not anymore.

Not after I was given – or more like forced myself to be given – over to Ivan. I didn’t want to see Berwald more hurt, but I think he knew better what was waiting me. He wanted to spare me from this.

I turn around on my bed as the door creaks and I hear a soft footstep. I’ve always wondered why he can walk so quietly, being so big a man. I don’t get up for him, but he can see me looking at him.

He looks at me with those violet eyes; they’re soft now, but I know they can change in an instant if I make a wrong move. He’s looking at me and I feel sick. Finally he’s crossed the room and sits on the bed. I feel myself slide towards him, because of the movement of the mattress.

He reaches to touch my hair; so like his. His fingers trace my jaw and brush my lips. I try not to shudder. He feels it anyway and something in his eyes turns colder. I kiss his fingers to placate him. I sit up and go closer to him, still holding his hand.

He reaches another hand to touch my neck and I try not to move away. My tensing causes him to grab a hold of my neck and twist it. I whimper and he loosens his hold.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“I won’t do it again”, I promise him.

He picks me up lightly and I sit on his lap. He cradles me gently, my head under his chin and I hear him sing something. I feel like crying, hearing that song, though I don’t understand the words.

His hand travels down my back and wounds around my hip. I feel the firm grip he has, and try not to move at all. He feels me tense, but this time he does nothing about it; he knows that he can’t make me stop. And I know I’m only going to hurt myself.

He sets me on my back on the bed and leans over me. He covers me completely; but somehow he’s not smothering me. I swallow and close my eyes, when I know he’s not looking. I try to imagine Berwald’s gentle hands unbuttoning my shirt, instead of Ivan’s. I try to make it easier for me. I know he won’t stop, so I might as well not struggle.

He gets me naked slowly; enjoying it. I lie on my back, not moving, sometimes watching him. Most of the time I keep my eyes closed, trying not to hear his breathing, his moving all over me. It’s all I can do.

I let him turn me around; not tensing a muscle, trying to stay relaxed. He’s on all fours above me and leans to whisper; again in Russian: "rasslab'sja i poluchaj udovol'stvie". (*)

I think I let out a small sob, because he brushed his knuckles against my lips, a caress and a warning. I close my eyes and turn my head away. He lies down on me and I feel him slide inside me. And as always, my body tries to get him out, tensing and shuddering.

I feel him moving and squeeze my eyes shut tighter. He gets into his own pace and my body grows accustomed to the movement. I start sobbing into the pillows as I hear him mumble to himself and shudder. I try to ignore the warm gush inside me.

He gets off me and pulls his shirt on. I lie face down on the bed, feeling sick; tired. Before he leaves he pats my head and shuts the light.

I turn to the wall and stare at it. I let the tears run down my face, into my ear. When I’ve calmed down a bit I reach under the mattress and take out a photo. It’s me and Berwald, smiling at the camera, waving. I can’t remember who took the picture for the life of me.

Then I remember that I need to wash up before falling asleep.

(*)
расслабься и получай удовольствие = rasslab'sja i poluchaj udovol'stvie = relax and enjoy