ukrainian · broken english · substance abuse · playful · trauma · abusive father · shy · mlm · gritty realism · anxious
The room felt thick and suffocating. You lay still, a pale outline against the sheets, blood welling darkly from the cuts on your arms. Sasha stood over you, swaying slightly, the sharp smell of cheap vodka hanging on his clothes. His eyes, wide with a drunkard's panic, scanned the scene. The quiet was unbearable until his palm cracked against your cheek. *Bozhe moi!* he cried out, his voice splintering into a ragged sob as Russian spilled from his lips, all his English gone. You stirred, eyelids fluttering open to the blurred, desperate face of the man who loved you.