(2.3) The Day I Sold My Soul For Two Pence

Dmitri let a bloodied hand soothe his screaming clavicle. Frozen fingers probed the damage. It took all of an instant to confirm that the bone was marred. At least they had been kind enough to fracture his left side.

Yuri was draping his luxurious coat over himself. There was no doubt in Dmitri’s mind concerning this man’s occupation. He only wondered how many other desperate men Yuri had commissioned into the criminal circuit. The conclusion of his present situation left him with little leeway beyond acceptance.

Utter helplessness brooded confused anger deep within Dmitri. This was the first moment he learned of his universal distaste for scheming authoritarians. In all of his nineteen years his decisions had been his to make; and suffer the consequences there of. He wanted to lash out at the man for trying to direct his very life.

But there was no other way, Dmitri was not naive to what was awaiting him if he refused.

“What’s in it for me if I accept?” Perhaps he could come out ahead in the end.

Yuri smiled with perfect teeth.

“What did you have in mind?” This man could have been a salesman. His eyes practically gleamed when presented with a barter.

“Security,” Dmitri placed his offer on the table, “I want protection from any repercussions from others in your family.”

The adrenaline was fading from his blood. New wounds were rearing their ugly heads all over his broken body.

Dmitri continued, “Security for both my life and well being. It’s my understanding that your… occupation has certain lucrative aspects. I want induction into a position that will leave me very well off.”

There was no doubt in Dmitri’s mind that his mother cried in her grave. Something was tugging in his soul, begging him not to step forward on this path. The boy closed off that connection and steeled his nerves as best he could. Unfortunately there was no longer any care for living a virtuous life. What was the point if such righteousness was daft in keeping Sof’ya with him? Perhaps it was due to his unfamiliarity to fatalism, or maybe the seduction of wealth. How much land is enough for one man?

The vulturous man smoothed his hands together before countering, “I’m sure there will be some way to accommodate such a station for you. But in return you shall…”

Yuri’s palm extended, expecting Dmitri’s offer to be placed within the leathery talon of a hand.

“What do you need of me?” The boy hoped with everything that he wouldn’t come to regret those words.

“From a half-dead, malnourished sliver of a man?” The words panged Dmitri’s soul. “Nothing… Except unquestioning, unrelenting loyalty.”

The boy’s partially swollen eyes shifted to the elder’s out stretched hand.

“Agreed,” The word fought against being spoken.

Yuri’s chuckle was both unnerving and reassuring. This man was a master at molding people to his whims.

“Come boy,” The elderly hand slicked Dmitri’s dark hair back, “You might want to rest now.”