At some point, Daria is aware that she is kneeling in a cold hallway. Grey concrete under her knees, dusty off-white walls, and dim lights that make her squint are all she can see.
Her head hurts. She brings a hand up to rub at her eyes and she’s vaguely aware that she’s holding something. She stares down at her hand for a few moments and it takes her far too long to realize that she’s holding a switchblade.
She peers around in confusion. She can’t remember what happened. She can’t see any of her sisters or her mama but she knows that they wouldn’t have let anything happen to her.
Right?
Daria tries to push herself to her feet, noticing the blood drenching her hands and shirt, making her sticky as she places her hands against the floor. She doesn’t feel any pain and she pats herself down to reassure herself that she wasn’t injured. She wasn’t but that just makes the dread inside of her grow because if it’s not her blood then whose is it?
She strains to try and hear any sign of anyone. As far as she can tell, she’s all alone. She doesn’t know where she is or how she got there.
Daria wants to call out but each time she swallows and tries to speak, her words get stuck in her throat. She wants to go home. She wants her mama.
She fumbles to check her pockets for her phone. It’s not there. In fact, all of the things she usually carried in her pockets are gone. Her phone, her favorite gel pen, her epi-pen, and her pad of sticky notes.
Daria takes a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart. She can’t panic, not right now. She’ll panic later on when she’s in her mama’s arms. Her mama will protect her and she’ll be safe enough to do so. She closes the switchblade and tucks it into her pocket.
She thinks of how she can call out and prepare for whoever may be there. It hits her and she remembers her mama showing each of them something special.
“My sister and I used to call for each other without words,” Her mama had said once when Mischa asked about how she would whistle two notes out of the blue sometimes, just like Varvara would randomly cuss for no reason other than to prove that she was in control. “We each had a whistle. Two notes.” Her mama had whistled the first half, the same two notes she had repeated over and over. Then she whistled two more. “One means ‘find me’. The other means ‘I’m here.” Her mama had explained. “We could call for each other. One would whistle ‘find me’ and the other would reply with ‘I’m here’.”
“Well,” Mischa had nodded her head at the explanation. “Do you think we can have whistles too? A different one so you know who’s whistling. Then we can finish the call.”
Her mama had paused before she smiled. “That’s a brilliant idea, Mia.”
Daria remembered gathering with her sisters all in the same room that night after they were supposed to be in bed. She was sitting with Varvara and Viktoria on Viktoria’s bed. Out of the seven of them, only Ksenia and Viktoria knew how to whistle. They taught the others how and they had stayed up until the early hours of the morning trying to figure out who would claim what whistle.
From that day on, whenever one of them heard her mama whistle the first two notes, ‘find me’, the others would reply. Instead of looking a little saddened at the lack of a reply like she had been, her mama would grin. If more than one of them heard her then they’d go by age. Down the line, oldest from youngest.
Never before had Daria been the one to whistle first. Her sisters would sometimes but she never had.
Daria takes a deep breath, licking her lips and grimacing when her tongue picks up the metallic taste of blood. She whistles the call. Find me.
She waits, desperate to hear the reply of one of her sisters. She tries again, trying to go louder. Again and again, she calls out, her chest clenching more with each return of silence. She tries to wipe her bloodied hands on her pants, cleaning them the best she could so she could press her fingers into her mouth on her tongue and whistle a shrill noise that she had only heard from Alice out in the field of flowers.
She freezes when she hears a faint call back. She recognizes it, it was Irina. She stumbles in her haste to move toward where the sound came from.
The hallway seems to stretch and Daria finds it strange that there is a suspicious lack of doors. Dim halogen bulbs flicker above her as she whistles again. She finally finds a single door and she stares at it for far too long. It’s familiar, she recognizes it from somewhere but her head still hurts and she doesn’t want to think about it. She grasped the handle, tugging on the door. It’s heavy but it budges slightly. She has to use all of her weight and both of her hands to even get it open enough for her to slip through.
Her heart stops when she sees her sister laying on the floor in the middle of the room, her body splayed awkwardly and blood pooling under her. Daria takes a step and then another before she crosses the distance between them, collapsing to her knees next to her. She looks over her big sister for the cause of the blood, pushing her shirt up when she sees that most of the blood was coming from under her soaked shirt.
Irina’s hand gripped her wrist suddenly and Daria jerked, looking up at her. She’s startled at the pain and fear in Irina’s eyes, covered by hate. Why? Irina signed and Daria blinks at her in confusion. She looked down at Irina’s abdomen again but Irina gripped her face and jerked her to look at her again. Daria winces at the feeling of her sister’s blood transferring from her hand to her face. Monster.
Daria doesn’t understand.
You are the monster they made you to be. Irina signed sharply, her breathing raspy. When Daria looked back down at her abdomen, Irina finally lets her look.
There, Daria finally sees the cause of the blood. Stab wounds. Fatal ones. Meant for a slow painful death.
Irina’s hand lands on her pocket where Daria had secured the switchblade and she feels like someone just dumped a cold bucket of water on her head.
She didn’t do it. She wouldn’t hurt her big sister. “No--” She manages to get out, the word strangled.
Irina glared up at her. You did it. Once a Widow, always a Widow. All you do is destroy.
“No!” Daria shakes her head, reaching out to try and put pressure on the wounds, knowing that it was all in vain. She tries to whistle but it keeps breaking off early. “Sorry!”
Sorry does not change the fact that you killed me. Irina told her before she turned her head to peer up at the ceiling, her face slowly slackening as her skin pales and goes still.
Daria’s heart stops with her, leaning down to press her ear against Irina’s chest, desperate to hear her breathing or her heart beating.
She killed her big sister. Oh god, what did she do?
Daria tilts her head back, trying to suck air into her lungs as she lets out a wail. She can’t stop it. Tears roll down her cheeks. She lost control and she killed her. She killed her, oh god. What was she going to do? She needs help, she needs her mama she needs--
She can’t go home.
The sudden thought struck her and Daria cried even harder. She grabbed the leather bracelet that sat securely around her wrist and ripped it off, looking down at it before throwing it as hard as she could.
She couldn’t be Daria Belova anymore. She didn’t deserve it. Once a Widow, always a Widow, that’s how it was. Her mama would hate her for killing one of them.
Daria was a monster. She wasn’t safe to be around anymore.
Daria sucks in one last breath, whistling one more time. Find me.
There was no reply. Daria was too tiny to carry Irina. She needs help.
She couldn’t do it.
Daria wakes up with a gasp of air, jerking upright as she takes in the sight of her bedroom.
“Hey, Daria, look at me,” Varvara’s voice has her flinching as she twisted to look at her sister who was also sitting up now. Daria looked down at her hands to see that she no longer had blood on them and her leather bracelet was still there. “You’re okay. It’s me, Varvara. We’re in our bedroom, you just had a bad dream.” Daria bursts into tears, burying her face in her hands. “Do you want me to get Ma?”
Daria shakes her head. She shoved the sheets back and slides out of bed, slipping out of her bedroom and down the hallway, immediately entering her sister’s bedroom. Daria approached Irina’s bed, reaching out and yanking the blanket off of her, a surefire way to get Irina to wake up without risking someone getting punched.
As expected, Irina jolts upright, her confused gaze peering around the room until they land on Daria. She blinks a few times before she opens up her arms and Daria jumps onto the bed, crashing into her.
Irina holds her close, kissing the top of her head and swaying them side to side. Daria pulled away after a few moments, grabbing Irina’s face so that she can see her, and she whistled.
Along with Irina’s reply, a sleepy whistle also comes from Mischa and Ksenia.
Irina wipes away Daria’s tears with her thumb. When Daria whistles over and over again, Irina replies. Daria finally shoves her face into Irina’s neck and Irina doesn’t hesitate to continue her rocking.
When Daria cried all of the tears she had, Irina shifts them to lie down, tucking Daria against her side as she pulls the blanket back over them.
What happened? Irina signed to her.
I had a bad dream. Daria signed back, sniffling quietly.
About me? Irina frowned.
I killed you. Daria explained. You called me a monster. I killed you and I could not remember how or why but I had-- Daria paused, taking a shaky breath. Your blood all over me.
You did not kill me. I am still here. Irina leaned forward to gently knock their foreheads together. I am not going anywhere, you cannot get rid of me that easily.
I could not take you home. I could not go home. I could not go back to Mama. Daria was getting herself worked up again.
“Here,” Mischa’s sleepy voice interrupted them. Daria looked up to see that Mischa was holding Popper and Leo in her grip and Daria slowly reached out to accept them. “Do you want me to get mom?”
Daria shakes her head and Mischa nods, yawning before returning to her bed.
Irina blows on Daria’s cheek to get her attention. I love you. Even if you hurt me because I know it will be an accident. You are my baby sister. Irina grins slightly. My teeny tiny baby sister. She pinched her thumb and index finger together to exaggerate how tiny Daria was. Forever and always.
Daria curled into her big sister, tucking Popper and Leo between her and Irina as she pressed her head against her chest. She slowly relaxes under the feeling of Irina running her fingers up and down her back.
Daria falls back asleep to the steady sound of her big sister’s heartbeat under her ear.