He could empty Roman’s veins, let them drain onto the floor below. He could whisper something, a few words, and cause a clot in Roman’s brain. He could slam Roman’s head backward into concrete, into smithereens. He could stop Roman’s heart, stop Roman’s breath, stop everything and watch as vacancy inevitably set itself in Roman’s eyes, like the deadness in Marya’s. In Masha’s. And then Roman would be like Masha, and would be nothing, and gone from Ivan’s sight.
