Title: Primed for Sin
Summary: A Red centric drabble
Disclaimer: I do not own OITNB or any of its characters. They belong to Jenji Kohen, I do, however, own my writing so please don't steal- Johanna002©
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The change had been gradual. I hadn't noticed at first how much business had died, or maybe I just didn't want to see it, but suddenly I had found myself sinking further and further into a hole that I just couldn't get out of.
Barely able to make ends meet as it was, the banks saw no gain in approving our request for a loan. By this point, it wasn't just the market that was in trouble, but our family home as well. Life as I knew it, was slowly and surely falling apart before my eyes.
I don't remember when exactly, I meet Ganya, or what my first impression of him was, but overnight, it seemed him, his croons and their big-haired wives were suddenly sitting in the market day in and day out. At first, I hadn't minded their presence, it was nice to interact with people from Russia other than Dimitri for a change, even if I was the one making their bread.
My husband, yappy and shaky as he was—like a chihuahua that one—he made himself known to them. I hadn't understood his unquenchable need to be recognized. Was it a desperate attempt to help me save our market? I didn't think so, but I considered the possibility. However, I couldn't ignore the fact that it could have been little man syndrome. He was too persistent in his motives as if he had something to prove. Perhaps he had felt I emasculated him by being the sole working force in our home, and he wanted to prove his manhood. Whatever the case may be, I never understood it.
I do, however, remember Dimitri telling me it was important to make connections with them. He had informed me that they were powerful people and stressed to me over and over again how beneficial they could be for our livelihood.
Cutting onions, my eyes burning from their distinct chemical irritant, I tried my best to ignore him. He was talking in circles, his voice breaking like some hormonal, teenage boy. He began tugging roughly at the bend of my arm as he tried to sway me into following him. His behavior reminded me much of our first date, and that alone should have constituted as a warning sign. I should have known enough then not to follow him.
His voice had sounded off throughout the store, "Ladies and gentlemen, I have someone I would like to make your acquaintance!" If I hadn't been so preoccupied with my appearance: dirty work clothes, greasy hair, no makeup, I would have laughed.
From there everything had begun to pile up like dog shit. We got mixed up in things we couldn't get out of, forced to make decisions that would turn anyone's stomach. Even now I can't bear to truly sit down and think through what I had become a part of.
There was no sense of dwelling on things I had no power to change. Now, it seems, that the only thing I could do was open a window where God had closed the door. Of course, this would have been a more comforting notion if I believed in God.