Belonging

I cry in the bath. I cry in the bed. I cry on the floor. I cry at the desk. I cry and cry and cry until I have no more tears. My sobs are not solely for my father, they're for everything. They're for my grandfather, for myself-for the innocence and happiness I used to enjoy scarcely in my brief moments of contentedness in the few foster homes I was placed in that didn't treat me like dirt of scum or like some freak from an alien planet that didn't belong there.

When I hear what has to be the thousandth knock today at the door of the room I clench my eyes shut tightly. Can they not just leave me alone? Is it not enough for them that they have taken my father? What else can they possibly do to me? How many ways are there to torment a person? How many have people ticked off in my life in regard to me?

I sniffle, hoping that if I ignore whoever is on the other side of the door they will simply go away. I am uninterested in speaking to any of my brothers, even the ones who weren't there for when Aleksander and Petro forced my father-my last hope-straight out of the door. Literally.

"Annie." Maxim says loudly. I burrow myself deeper under the covers at the sound of his voice, sniffling. A moment goes by before the door is clicked open carefully. I hear his footsteps as he makes his way over to me. The bed dips beneath his weight as he takes a seat. "Anastasiya." He says softly. "I know you're awake. I want to talk to you."

"Whenever I talk to any of you all you do is lie." I say, my voice breaking with each word.

"I can do my best to answer some of your questions, Annie." He tells me gently. "I know this is all confusing, and I'm sorry. But I want to try help you understand some parts. Ask me anything you'd like."

I turn to look at him fully, laying on my side. If I do ask him things, how do I know if he will even tell the truth? What if he lies? What if Petro sent him up here to deceive me?

"I'm not related to Demian." I state. He looks surprised that I know that but does not interrupt. "Am I not related to any of you?"

"Demian is the only one of us you're not related to. But that doesn't mean you can't see him as your brother."

"He's not my brother." I say.

"Okay." He responds carefully. He sighs. "Aside from you and Demian, the rest of us are fully related. We have the same mother and father. Our father cheated on our mother and had Demian, and our mother cheated on our father and had you."

"Does that mean I'm wasn't really related to grandad?" I ask, ready to evoke a fresh round of tears.

"Of course you are." He says. "Grandad is our mother's father."

"Oh." I whisper, relief cascading down on me at his reassuring words. "Okay." I add softly, nodding a little bit. "Why-why.." I trail off.

"Why what, honey?" He urges.

"Why did I not live with you before?" I swallow the lump stuck in my throat. "Why was I in foster care?"

He glances away, then back at me, as though he was hoping that when he looked back he'd be having different conversation. But he isn't. He said he'd answer my questions and I'm not going to let him leave until I know everything I want to know.

He sighs gently. "You lived with us up until the age of three and a half." He tells me. "My father adored you, because our mother had passed you off as being his child. You adored him too. But then he figured out that you weren't his, and he no longer wanted you in the house. Our mother wanted to send you to live with grandad and our grandmother, since she was still alive then. He pretended he was going to go along with the plan but instead he had you sent away. None of us knew where you went.