My heart is in my throat as I watch them climb the steps and listen to their footsteps go along the upstairs warehouse floor, then I hear the door close behind them.

Alone in this depressing and creepy place, my plan seems outlandish, stupid even. Surely, I didn’t think I could kill my own father. What was I thinking?

I should have asked one of them to do it.

I can still call them, but that would be the cowardly way out. I have to do it myself. I want my father to know why. I want to face him and let him know how he has hurt me with his actions. He never even gave Noah a chance. He just rubbed him out. Just like that. As if he was just a figment of my imagination. Now he’ll never know how much I loved him. I feel myself choke up and, with a sniff, I turn away from the stairs, the door, the idea of letting someone else do my dirty work for me.

I pull a chair opposite my father and wait for him to wake up.

For nearly an hour I sit as if hypnotized and probably a little mad in front of him. Yes, mad with grief. When he opens his eyes I am meant to kill him. Who of my friends could imagine even in their wildest dreams little obedient, dutiful me sitting here contemplating murder? Yet, here I am. I must have become unhinged when I saw Sergei’s body. I’m still unhinged.

The first sign that he is coming to makes my pulse hammer and my spine go ramrod straight. His eyes flicker and his mouth quivers. Soon his eyes open a little more, but he is still groggy and disoriented. He blinks and shakes his head. I think his mouth must be dry because he licks his lips and swallows. Perhaps they hurt his body too when they let him bump his way down the stairs because he winces.

His eyes widen when he tries to shake his body and finds that he cannot move. Suddenly, he becomes shockingly alert. His eyes narrow as they first fall on me, then look startled when he sees his environment. He looks down at the ropes that tether to the chair. He struggles, but only briefly, when the realization hits home that these are no amateur binds. He will not get free of them.

‘What is going on, Tasha? Why am I tied up?’ he demands.  

‘Try to guess, Papa.’

He frowns, suddenly remembering. ‘You drugged me.’ Then his voice changes. ‘Who is here with you?’ he demands.

‘We’re all alone, Papa. Just you and me like all those times we went out to eat ice cream and we went to the movies together.’

‘What nonsense are you talking about?’ he asks harshly. All traces of sleep has fled from his eyes, and he is as furious as I have ever seen him. His face is red with it.

I shake my head. Even at a time like this my father will never give an inch.

‘Who has put you up to this?’ he questions.

‘You did, Papa.’

He stares at me. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s a good thing you asked, because I’ve been meaning to tell you anyway. I’ve never told you, have I, how hurt I was when you kicked Mama out of the house and never let me see her. All those years you forced me to hide and lie and run around meeting Mama in toilets. You denied me a mother,’ I scream.

Tears start filling my eyes and I dash them away.

‘I forgave you all that because I loved you. I pretended to myself that it’s not as bad as all that. Then when I told you what a horrible man Oliver is, you didn’t care. You still wanted to sacrifice me to your ambition and greed for power and status.’

‘What are you talking about? I told you I’d protect you from him,’ he cuts in aggressively.

‘Oh, Papa. You are such a liar. You knew even if he did terrible things to me I would never come and complain to you. I was too frightened of you. I would just bear it as I have borne everything else.’

‘Look. This is silly. All right. You don’t have to marry him. You have my word.’

‘You think you’re here because of that?’

The first flash of fear crosses his eyes. ‘Then what?’

‘You sent someone into my bedroom to kill Sergei. He was like my son, Papa. He was an innocent little thing and I loved him with all of my heart, and you just took him away. How could you? How could you?’ I sob. The tears are rushing down my cheeks, and I’m ugly crying, but I don’t care anymore.

‘Solnyshko, Sergei was not your son. Sergei was a dog. One day you will have a child and you will understand. You are my daughter, my flesh and blood. Everything I have done is for your own good. All of this we can put aside … and start again. Maybe I’ve been too harsh with you. I’ll change … I’ll be a better father. What do you say?’ His voice is soft and manipulative.

‘As if that wasn’t enough, you then took the only man I’ve ever wanted. I loved Noah, Papa. I would have given up my life for him. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him. You took everything away from me.’  

‘Solnyshko, listen to me,’ he says, his voice is not sorry or remorseful. It is just wheedling. It’s all just a technique. A trick. A bluff. As if I’m stupid.

For a few seconds I continue to stare at his pathetic attempt at finding a way out of his mess. 

‘You are young and beautiful. You will find someone else,’ he says.

I walk over to where my rucksack is on the floor and feel his eyes follow. I kneel down, pull out the untraceable handgun I got from Dimitri’s men, and take the safety catch off. I get to my feet and walk towards him with the gun in my hand. What irony that it was my father who taught me how to use a gun.