Angelina
Sergei arrives an hour later. The moment I see the front door open, I leap up from the couch where I’ve been waiting. Instead of coming over, he just glances in my direction and heads for the stairs. I stand in the middle of the living room, staring at his retreating form, wondering what the hell is going on. I make a decision then. If he wants to be left alone, it will have to be some other time, because I need to know he’s okay.
I reach the top of the stairs just in time to see him going into his bedroom. When I make it inside the room, he’s nowhere to be seen, but the water is running in the bathroom.
“Sergei?” I call, and when I don’t receive an answer, I approach and open the door.
Sergei is standing in front of the sink, his head is bent, and his hands are gripping the e
