“Who the hell are you?” Alla stared, bewildered, at the striking young blonde. The blonde was wearing Alla’s favorite white robe.
“Why the hell are you wearing my robe? Who are you, anyway? What are you doing in my house?” Alla clenched her handbag and glared at the woman with hatred. It was finally sinking in what had happened in her apartment.
“So you’re messing around with my husband while I’m busting my ass at work? All right, you bitch—now you’re going to get it.” Alla swung her bag at the stranger, who jumped back toward the window in fear. Alla was ready to beat the blonde to a pulp.
“Alla, stop—she’s my second cousin,” a terrified Artyom rushed into the living room. “You’ve got it all wrong.
“This is Larisa. She came to Moscow for a week. Her mother asked my mother if she could stay with us. She took a shower, and I gave her your robe.” Artyom spread his arms wide and quickly stepped between them.
“Artyom, what sister?” Alla raised an eyebrow and stared at her husband. “I’ve never heard you mention any sister.”
“Alla, I’m telling you—Larisa is my second cousin. She lives in St. Petersburg. She came to Moscow to apply to a university.” He nodded and glanced at Larisa, who adjusted the robe and, just in case, took a few more steps back.
“It’s all true.” Larisa found her voice again.
“Sorry about the robe. I’ll change into my own clothes now.” Swaying her hips, Larisa left the living room.
“Artyom, you do realize that if you’d been naked too, I definitely wouldn’t have believed you,” Alla smirked. “Nobody takes off their underwear by accident.”
“Yes, love, I understand how it looks, but Larisa really is my cousin. You’ve got nothing to worry about. And by the way, she has a fiancé back in St. Petersburg—so we’ll be celebrating their wedding soon.” Artyom headed into the kitchen to check on the lasagna.
“Larisa, what university are you trying to get into in Moscow?” Alla asked casually over dinner, taking a sip of wine.
“A literature institute,” Larisa replied calmly, adjusting her bangs and popping a piece of hard cheese into her mouth.
“Nice. Planning to be a writer?” Alla studied her husband’s “cousin” closely.
“We’ll see. But yeah—I like writing. And I love reading novels.” Larisa put another piece of lasagna on her plate.
“So which do you like better—War and Peace or The Master and Margarita?” Alla, not even sure why, decided to steer the conversation into literature.
“Oh… you know, probably the second one. The one about the pianist and the con artist who robbed him and hid the money in chairs, right? Yes! I remember. I like The Master and Margarita.” Larisa took another bite of lasagna.
And how exactly are you getting into a literature school if you just mixed up three different books in one sentence? Alla thought, but she didn’t show it.
That evening, after Artyom made up a bed for Larisa in the living room, Alla stepped onto the balcony and called her best friend, Ekaterina.
“Katya, this is insane. Imagine this: I come home… earlier than usual—and there’s some random girl in my house wearing my robe.
“My husband was fully dressed and immediately started saying she’s his second cousin who came into town for a week to apply to a literature institute.
“But she’s a total zero when it comes to literature. She doesn’t even know what The Master and Margarita is about, or The Twelve Chairs.
“And I noticed something else—under the robe she was wearing really expensive lace lingerie. You don’t just put that on when you’re visiting for a week…
“And you know… I’ve been with Artyom for years, and he’s never told me a single thing about this Larisa.” Alla tapped a hand against the drainpipe, lost in thought.
“A sister, huh?” Katya replied after listening, puzzled. “You actually believe that? Because I can barely believe it. Sounds like Larisa is his mistress and you just caught them—so they spun a story on the spot.”
“Katya, sure, Artyom messes up sometimes. And sometimes he hurts me… but I think our relationship is fine. I don’t think he’s so far gone that he’d drag a mistress into our home.
“Okay, friend, I have to run. Just stay alert and don’t let them fool you,” Katya said, then added after a pause, “Better yet—hide a voice recorder in the apartment. Record their conversation when you’re not there.”
“Listen… that’s actually a good idea.” Alla said a warm goodbye and went to look for an old phone to use its memory to record.
If Larisa is my husband’s mistress, I’ll expose her and they’ll both regret it, Alla thought. If only she knew what horror was waiting for her next.
Alla opened her eyes. It was dark, and the air smelled of soil. Her head was throbbing. She could barely move her arms. The fabric rubbed unpleasantly against her skin. In terror, Alla realized she’d been wrapped in a carpet—wrapped up so someone could bury her somewhere.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” a sudden inner voice spoke inside her head.
“Stop pretending—I know everything, I heard it all!” Alla flung the phone onto the bed and turned on the recording.
“Artyom, how could you? I trusted you—I loved you!” Alla slapped her husband hard across the face and then lunged at Larisa.
“That’s it, you slut—you’re done!” Alla shoved Larisa onto the bed and grabbed at her like dried buckwheat stuck to the sides of a pot.
“Larisa, you brought this on yourself! Our relationship has been a suitcase without a handle for a long time—too heavy to carry, too sad to throw away!” Artyom shouted, trying to pull apart the women who were clawing at each other on the bed like two feral cats.
“And Larisa just helped put a period at the end. I’m glad you won’t be in my life anymore.” He grabbed Alla by the leg and dragged her off the bed.
“Take that, you rat!” Larisa snatched a lamp and smashed it down on Alla’s head. The light in Alla’s eyes went out fast.
Alla remembered. Her heart began pounding like locomotive wheels. For a moment it was hard to breathe.
“Dig faster!” Larisa was cursing. “If someone sees us, we’re finished.”
“I am digging, I am!” Artyom growled.
“We need to bury her body quickly and come up with an alibi. We’ve got so many problems—so many problems,” Larisa spat, swearing viciously.
“Larisa, why did you hit her? We could’ve just gotten a divorce! Do you even understand what you’ve done—dragging me into this swamp with you?” Artyom hissed angrily.
“But now we’ve got our own place in the center of Moscow.” Larisa let out a nervous little laugh.
Oh God. They want to bury me. And steal my apartment. Bastards! Artyom—I never expected this from you…
They think I’m dead, Alla whispered in horror. But if they find out I’m alive, they’ll finish me for sure…
“I have to get out somehow…” Alla went still. She breathed through a narrow gap in the carpet and prayed she’d manage to escape.
“It’s getting dark. Let’s go get flashlights—I’m not going alone,” Larisa whispered.
“Fine, but quickly—we still have to bury her,” Artyom grumbled.
When the voices faded, Alla understood it was time. She rocked with all her strength until the carpet finally loosened. After flipping over a few times, she managed to weaken the tape wrapped around it.
The tape gave way, and Alla crawled out. Shivering, she slid free of the carpet. On the damp ground among the pines, she drew a full breath.
“So what do I do?” Alla looked around, frightened.
“Screw a bolt onto an ant, Allochka,” the inner voice answered cheerfully.
“You’re alive—that’s what matters. Now wrap that log over there in the carpet instead of yourself. Toss it into the pit. Hurry—they’ll be back soon,” the inner voice ordered.
Alla quickly wrapped the nearby log in the carpet and dropped it into the hole. Then she hid behind a tree. She turned on her phone camera and switched off the flash so she wouldn’t be spotted.
“Babe, was that you who tossed the carpet into the pit? I don’t remember throwing it in,” Larisa said, staring closely at Artyom.
“Yeah, probably… I’m not thinking straight anymore, Larisa. Shine the light—I’ll cover it up.” Artyom grabbed the shovel and started filling in the hole.
“Well, you two just talked yourselves into a real prison sentence,” Alla filmed everything.
When the hole was covered and Larisa and Artyom headed to the car, the first thing they saw was that all the windows had been smashed—and all the tires were flat.
On the seat lay a note.
“I know what you did tonight.”
“Larisa… what the hell does this mean…” Artyom dropped the note and recoiled from the car.
“It means exactly what it says, you loser.” Alla suddenly burst out of the bushes holding a huge branch.
Artyom didn’t even have time to understand what happened before he was unconscious.
“You? You’re supposed to be in the hole!” Larisa’s eyes bulged in shock.
“No, Larisa! You’re the one going in the hole!” Alla swung the branch; it sliced through the air with a whistle. Larisa collapsed onto the dirt road.
“Drink… water… Where am I?” Larisa slowly came to. In horror she discovered she’d been buried up to her head. Across from her, Artyom’s head was sticking out of the ground too.
Nearby, Alla sat cheerfully on a stump, eating chips she’d found in the car.
“So, how do you like my work?” Alla said. “I worked all night. Now all that’s left of you is two heads—everything else is underground. And you definitely won’t get out by yourselves.
“Well? Fun?” Alla looked at her husband and his mistress with disgust.
“Please, let us go,” Artyom rasped.
“Let you go? I don’t know… here’s the thing… maybe I’ll just leave you here.” Alla finished the chips.
“Think about your behavior. I’ll come back in a day and check on you. If boars or wolves don’t eat you by then… maybe I’ll set you free.”
The next day Alla returned to the forest. Artyom and Larisa were still alive, but in terrible shape.
“Watch this video.” Setting her husband’s suitcase on the ground, Alla played yesterday’s recording.
“I’ll dig you out a bit so you can crawl out yourselves, and you’ll leave the city for good. Because unlike you, I’m not a murderer. I’m not taking that sin on my soul.
“And if I ever see you again—or hear a peep from you—this video goes to the police. I swear I’m not joking.” Alla stared straight at Larisa’s head sticking out of the earth, then just as sharply at the head of her almost-ex-husband beside her.
“And yes, Artyom. All your money—your pathetic five million—I took it. It’s mine now. Call it compensation for emotional damage. So, buddy, you’re broke as a church mouse. Live wherever you want—just without money and without me.”
With a parting smack on the back of each of their heads, Alla dug Larisa and Artyom out a little, then slowly walked toward the road, smiling at the bright morning sun that shines the same on both the good and the bad.
