Anastasia
Joan was laying on her bed, unable to find sleep, moving around, rubbing her eyes, biting her bottom lip.
Getting her memories back had not eased her mind. On the contrary.
She felt even more like a… Fish out of water than before.
All the bad deeds she had done. They had come back crashing like a tsunami tearing everything in its way.
What had happened to her, ever since she was a little girl… Left a gaping hole inside of her.
These thoughts never leaving her, she finally found sleep coming for her, feeling her limbs growing heavier, her breathing slowing down.
She closed her eyes, darkness surrounding her, falling into Morpheus’ arms.
Joan suddenly felt a gentle breeze caressing her face, the lighting seemingly much brighter than before.
She heard the rustle of leaves on branches, a faint sound of water.
She opened her eyes, closing then almost instantly.
How could the sun be that high in the sky ?
Wasn’t it night just a few seconds ago ?
How could she be on the outside ?
And not laying down in her cell ?
She tried opening her eyes again, taking her time adjusting to the lighting, taking in her surroundings.
She scrunched her brows, looking at the house when it hit her.
She knew that house, or at least, she had seen it before, many, many times.
Joan felt her heart ache painfully within the confines of her ribcage, memories flooding back to her.
Long-buried, long forgotten, secured away. Not for safekeeping.
But because the pain was too much to bear.
She studied the house for a few minutes, wondering how on earth she could be here, in Russia, in Korsakov.
Instead of her bed in Wentworth, in Victoria, in Australia.
She turned around to face the lake, dreading it.
Where it happened.
It had made the papers. The front line.
Glaring at the water, her lips curling downward, feeling tears at the corners of her eyes.
Wielding them down.
Until something else caught her attention.
Well, more like someone.
Seated on the bench in front of the lake.
Joan started walking towards the figure, wary yet intrigued.
She arrived near the bench, her eyes never leaving the unknown figure until she stopped in her track.
Her breath dying at the back of her throat, her chest rising more painfully than it ever had in a long time.
The figure was of a young woman’s, chestnut brown locks tied in a plate, hands resting on her thighs, fingers laced together. Her eyes looking in front of her, to the scenery, her face impassive. Skin as pale as the snow they used to get during winters.
Joan felt at a loss, not only for words but also found her limbs turning to cement, rending her incapable of moving.
Feeling her eyes watering, no tears dared to escape the barrier of her eyelids. Yet.
She felt her lips part, the sounds locked away, long unspoken.
Afraid that thinking or even saying the name would scorch her lips.
Burn her alive.
Break her down.
She regained control of her limbs and sat down carefully next to the younger woman, looking at the scenery as well.
Her eyes inevitably falling on the lake, again.
-It’s not your fault.
Joan turned her head quickly.
That voice…
She had heard it for the last time forty years ago.
They were seventeen.
-It was never your fault. I never resented you for it.
The older woman’s eyes never left the person in front of her, she saw a twitch at the corner of her lips, her eyes still taking in the scenery before her.
Joan felt her throat tighten, understanding right away.
She looked down at her hands, before staring back at the younger woman.
-I’ve been… Sitting here for the last forty years and somehow still find new things to look at here. New birds. New leaves.
She saw her features hardening slightly, her jaw tightening, looking down.
-Except for that fucking lake.
Joan was taken aback when she swore, a tear threatening to roll down her cheek, the front page of the paper coming back in mind.
The pictures taken that day.
The vision of her body.
Dead.
Trying to wield it down.
The words ringing in her ears.
-You have no idea what it’s like to sit here every day hoping something will change. Having to watch you day after day. You used to cry yourself to sleep at first… You used to call me. Pray for me. You used to have nightmares. You’d wake drenched, crying, muffling any sound so your father wouldn’t hear you. Because you were in pain. Until… Until he beat it out of you.
The younger woman took a shuddering breath, feeling her own eyes water as she spoke of times long gone, but she remembered it clear as day.
The broken sobs, the muffled cries.
Curled on her bed.
Silent prayers, her name whispered like a mantra.
Seeing her becoming more broken each day passing.
-I had to watch you go through everything. Alone. Watch you turn into the very thing you despised. You couldn’t hear me, even when I was close to you. You were too focused on your father’s voice, he was all you were hearing, all you were listening to.
The tear finally escaped Joan’s eyes, another one following quickly it’s lead.
Remembering Russia, when she arrived as Governor of Wentworth.
The years spent listening to her genitor.
-I was either sat here or with you, seeing you close yourself more and more. Secluding yourself. Banishing your heart. I had to watch you…
Joan stared intensely at the younger woman, as she struggled to take a breath, tears cascading down her face.
-I had to watch you, knowing you were alone. That there was no one to love you. When you were bullied, tormented...
The younger woman stared at her hands, her lips parting, the words not leaving her lips.
Causing her chest to tighten at the memory, and her lips to burn from speaking those godforsaken words.
-I had to watch you be raped. Hanged. Buried alive.
Joan stared, tears rolling down as she saw the younger woman swallow back a sob, hot tears falling down her face as well.
The younger woman was looking at the trees before her.
The memories replaying in front of her eyes.
Recalling how she had stopped breathing, cried all the tears in her body, pulled her hair out, screamed, cursed, blamed herself.
For not being there.
For not being able to stop it.
Seeing her battered, bloodied, used, abused, broken.
-We never even got to say goodbye.
Joan took a shallow breath when she saw the younger woman turn to face her, smiling despite the sorrows and pain.
-I know why you told him. That someone cared. Loved you without judgment. Loved you for who you were.
The older woman looked down in shame.
She knew the reasons behind what had happened.
She remembered screaming those facts at her father’s face, hoping for something, anything.
She should have known better than to tell him.
She knew what he was capable of, and she told him anyway.
Suddenly, she felt fingers wrap around her scarred hand, holding tightly, causing her to look up.
Chocolate eyes falling into chestnut brown ones.
-I’m sorry…
At this, Joan furrowed her brows, her lips parting.
The younger woman’s lips curled downward, pain and sorrow overpowering the meager smile she had.
-I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough. I tried I… You told me about your mother, how she… I fought back. But it wasn’t enough…
The younger woman turned her head away, closing her eyes, feeling the words failing her while Joan kept staring at her, blinking back tears, though she realized it was unnecessary as they rolled down her cheeks anyway.
God, when was the last time she had cried like that ?
So openly ? Freely.
Vulnerable.
-I fought for you. Because I wanted to get back to you. But I was never going to win. I knew it. But I had to try. For you.
She sniffed, not bothering to wipe away the fresh tears nor the drying ones.
-God… There hasn’t been a day that I did not wish I could be alive. To be near you. To protect you, hold you, kiss you, touch you…
At this the younger woman glanced back at Joan, seeing pain written all over her.
She held tighter onto her hand, shuffling closer.
-I’m sorry I failed… I promised you I’d never leave you alone. I failed you… I wasn’t strong enough. I tried…
All of a sudden Joan broke into sobs, a hand covering her mouth.
The younger woman bit the inside of her cheeks, bringing the older woman closer to her so that their thighs were touching.
She wrapped an arm around her shoulders, her right hand resting on her head, placing it on her shoulder.
She felt hands gripping her dress and kissed her hair, gently stroking the ebony locks with her hand.
-I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…
Joan kept whispering like a broken record, her sobs growing louder, preventing her from forming more elaborate sentences.
-It’s not your fault Ioanna. Never has been. It never crossed my mind, not once.
The younger woman lifted Joan’s head from her shoulder, replacing a tuft of hair behind her ear, a hand on her cheek, wiping tears away, gently caressing her skin.
-You’re beautiful… Even more so now you’re all grown. The lines on your face, at the corners of your eyes, your mouth... Your life is written there. Your hair, it’s so much darker… So soft… These white strands…
The younger woman took in the sight of the older woman, seeing her breathing change, the corners of her lips twitching, not yet forming a full smile.
-So beautiful… I’m sorry you closed yourself to love and feelings… It hurt me so much to see you do that. To see you think that this was all there was in store for you… Having to watch you cry, break down, scream until your throat became sore. Talk to your father, repress, demean yourself. See you put yourself in life-threatening situations, see you hurt yourself.
Joan closed her eyes, lowering her head, feeling another hand cup her left cheek, both hands lifting her face to look at her.
-You can change. You are strong enough. Determined. I’ve never met anyone with your willpower. It was emanating from you when you fenced. Every victory, every loss. You kept trying to be better and more effective. The way you moved yourself, the ease with which you did it. I always loved to watch you fence… You’ve always been good enough, you’ve always mattered. You’re loved. You’re understood. Even if the people who do aren’t alive anymore… We’re still here, with you when you need us. We’ll always be here.
The younger woman lowered her hand, laying her palm above her breast, right where resides her beating heart.
-I’d give anything to be alive. To be with you… To try harder. To be given a second chance…
As she spoke, she had brought Joan’s hands to her lips, kissing her knuckles, placing them on her thighs before stroking her cheeks.
She stared deep into her eyes, a warm smile between the tears.
-So beautiful…
Joan swallowed with some difficulty, her eyes never leaving her, afraid that if she did, she’d lose sight of her. Her lips parted but no sound came out.
She closed and opened them repeatedly before she found the strength to talk.
-Is this… Real ?
-Why wouldn’t it be ?
-I was… I’m…
-You’re still at Wentworth. This is only happening in your head.
-So it’s not real…
The younger woman brought a finger under Joan’s chin, lifting her head to meet her eyes.
-It’s not because it’s happening in your head that it isn’t real. This might be a dream or feel like one when you wake up. But it is happening. That’s our way of communicating. Now that you’re open to it. Open to hearing, open to seeing, open to feeling.
Joan nodded softly, she looked down intertwining her finger with the younger woman’s.
-I… I need to know… What happened…
-Ioanna…
-Please, I… I spent forty years… Hatingmyself… I need to know… Please… I never knew… I never got to say goodbye… I’m begging you… Please…
The younger woman looked into Joan’s eyes, witnessing a turmoil of emotions behind them.
She felt her own torso become constricted as the memories flashed before her eyes, making her heart skip a beat.
-It was just like any other day. Mama had gone grocery shopping and papa was at work. I wanted to make a pie and we had apples so I started to bake. I was only finishing to cut the apples when I heard the door. At first, I thought it was my mother, but I didn’t hear anyone speak, or asked for help so I listened, and heard nothing. I went back to cutting the apples and heard the wooden floor creak. That’s when I left what I was doing and started walking towards the entrance. Only it wasn’t my mother. It was your father.
She heard Joan swallow audibly and held onto her hands, caressing the top of it with her thumb.
-I asked him what he was doing here. That if he wanted to see my parents they weren’t home and wouldn’t be back before a while. If I had know… I wouldn’t have said that… He just told me he needed to talk to me. I don’t remember if it was his tone or just the way he was looking at me, but I just started running through the house. And he started running after me. I tried to make him dizzy by running around the dinner table, pushing chairs aside, but he succeeded to catch me… I can still feel when my body hit the sofa. He had wrapped his hands around my neck and started choking me like it was nothing. I could still move my legs, therefore since I couldn’t reach him with my arms, I threw my leg forward and hit him in the crotch. He didn’t really appreciate it but I didn’t care, I could breathe again. I fell from the sofa and crawled for a few seconds before I could stand, I was feeling dizzy and I could hear the blood pumping in my ears. I rushed back inside the kitchen and picked the knife before turning to face him.
The younger woman looked away for a second, her eyes lost in the void, trying to contain the tremor in her voice.
-I was so scared… I was terrified… But still, I asked him why he was doing that ? What for ? And he said it was for you.
Their eyes met again, tears streaming down both faces, holding onto each other for dear life.
-I did not understand what he meant by it, he kept saying you had to be toughened, showed what people are really like. Not burdened with weaknesses. That… Emotions led to mistakes. He was much taller than me, much stronger. There was nothing I could do, he fenced, had been in the army and I was… Me…
She paused, taking a deep breath, looking past Joan, seemingly reliving the path taken on that day.
-He dragged me to the lake. Right there. I… Don’t remember much after that… But I know there was this feeling of not being able to breathe, of liquid filling my lungs… Of panic.
-Like being buried alive…
The younger woman glanced back at Joan, wiping a few tears away from her eyes.
-Yes… Like that…
-I shouldn’t hav..
-No. It wasn’t your fault. I figured you must have told him, but I never blamed you. I loved… I love you.
-IT’S MY FAULT, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN !
-Don’t punish yourself anymore, it’s done...
The younger woman saw the light fade slightly, yet somehow, was glancing at the sun getting up in the sky.
-You’re going to wake up soon.
-What ? No ! There’s… We haven’t...
-I know…
-I don’t want to wake up.
-You have to wake up.
-I do not want to.
The younger woman sighed, folding her hands on her thighs, her eyes closed.
Taking deep breaths.
She knew it was a risk.
She took it anyway.
Whether Joan liked it or not, she’d have to wake up, join the land of the living.
It would feel more like a vivid dream than anything, but she couldn’t stay here.
-Are you going to leave without saying my name not even once ?
At this remark, Joan’s lips parted, she kept closing and opening them, her face strained, still red from crying.
-It’s just my name Ioanna.
-I haven’t said it in so long…
-I know… You’ll feel lighter once you do.
-I don’t know if I can.
-I know you can.
-Anas…
Joan’s breath got stuck at the back of her throat and she looked up to the younger woman, who took hold on to her scarred hand.
-You can do it.
-Don’t make me… Please…
-I believe in you, you just need to believe in yourself. Try… For me ?
-Anastasia…
Fresh tears fell down her cheeks and she hid her face in her hands, rubbing her skin, reddening it even more than before looking back at her.
-It hurts so much. It feels like… Like someone is stabbing my heart, plunging deeper... And deeper every time. I… I never wanted…
-I know.
-He came back home… That afternoon. He was so calm…
Anastasia saw Joan’s lips press together, her upper body stiffening, a fire burning behind her eyes.
-He told me he’d taken care of it. I asked him… What he meant. He just… He just told me that… He did it. For me. Because he knew what was best. I think I knew, what he meant… I tried to leave the house. He locked me in my room… I… I learned it in the newspaper…
Joan gulped, she bit her lip, tears cascading down her cheeks as Anastasia lifted a hand, lacing her fingers in her hair.
-I never had been that anxious, panicked… I tried to leave but I couldn’t. You were alone… You were… The first. My first…
-Me too.
Anastasia leaned forward, resting her forehead on Joan’s, stroking her hair, feeling its softness.
-I can’t stop crying…
-Me neither… It’s nearly time…
-Wait ! Please !
Anastasia had gotten on her feet when she felt Joan grab her hand, She stood up as well, bringing her closer to her body, towering over her.
-I had nearly forgotten how tall you were.
Both women shared a laugh before they felt time had stopped.
Joan’s eyes had been alternating between her eyes and her lips, and she leaned forward not waiting for Anastasia to meet her halfway.
The younger woman stubbled under the strength and took hold of Joan, bringing their bodies closer if it was possible, responding to the kiss eagerly, pouring everything into that one kiss.
They separated gasping for air, and Anastasia rested her forehead on Joan’s, feeling her hot breath on her lips, their eyes closed.
-I don’t want to go…
-I know... We’ll see each other later.
-I… I love you.
-I know.
Suddenly, Anastasia opened her eyes, but she was met with the void, Joan nowhere in sight.
She took a shuddering breath, trying to contain the sobs taking over her body, and felt a hand resting on her shoulder.
She turned her head sideways and saw Ivan looking at her, teary-eyed, not meeting her gaze.
It had been twenty-two years and he still couldn’t look at her in the eyes.
Anastasia felt a growing pain within her chest and fell onto her knees, her grief-filled cries filling the air, chilling Ivan to the bones.
She broke down, a fountain of tears replacing the little tears she had shed until now, unable to go back to breathing normally.
-I’m sorry… And I know it won’t change anything. I just… I just want you to know.
-You say… Say that… Everyday…
-And I’ll keep on saying it every day as I can’t repay myself any other way,
Ivan stepped closer to Anastasia and lifted her, her limbs feeling like rubber.
-You shouldn’t spend so much time near the lake… You know what it does to you. Why don’t you get back inside, wash your face and spend some time with everyone ?
Anastasia nodded weakly, turning to face the door.
She knew as she died before him that given the time she and Joan were born in their parents must have suffered a great deal, and their unhealed traumas must have passed onto generation to generation, bad behaviors, and punishments as well.
The idea that having a boy was much better than having a girl.
Prioritizing that.
Karmic baggage that people carried from past lives, ancestors…
These did not help people understand who they are nor help them when they are living in an unhealthy environment causing them to hurt people as "caring".
She long had the time to think about all of that and realized she had never hated Joan’s father, merely was frightened of him, which was hard to overcome, but with time and patience, they had developed a relationship based ontrust.
Which if she were to tell Joan or anyone else that she forgave him, that he realized his own behavior ? Too late.
They’d probably laugh at her face, tell her she was crazy to believe him.
That he knew now that while trying to make Joan all-powerful and in control, he did the exact opposite and ruined her, in many ways.
They had not yet reached the door that a woman opened to let them in, the cool breeze causing her curly hair to fly in front of her face.
Anastasia felt two strong arms wrap around her and buried her face in the other woman’s neck, tears still flowing freely.
-It’s alright Love. She was loved, by everyone here, and she knows it.
-Why didn’t you talk to her ? You meant something to her. She’d have wanted to see you.
-Uh, I don’t doubt it. But today was for you and her. Some of us did not depart for nearly as long as you three. She had a longing, an unfinished business regarding you Love. She told me, about you both.
Brenda turned towards the couch, her eyes meeting Jianna’s, Anastasia looked up at Brenda before holding her tightly again, feeling the other woman rest her head on hers.
-How can you not cry ?
-Because I knew her less than you, we do not have the same understanding and history with this family. I’m sad and pained, but much less than you. Now, there are things you know about Joan that none of us know. These are yours only, your special connection with her, alright ?
-Thank you… To you both.
-There is no need Love.
-You made her feel loved, safe… All I’ve ever wanted for her to feel…
Anastasia glanced to her right seeing Jianna smiling softly at her, nodding in her direction before staring back at Brenda who wiped away tears with her thumb.
-It’ll be alright, she’s a big girl, she’s tough. One good thing that came out of her upbringing. Thanks for that.
Brenda glanced at Ivan who looked down gulping, still holding Anastasia and saw Sasheen holding a book sitting down on the armchair next to Jianna. Brushing her ebony hair away from her face.
-Your daughter was here by the way.
-I know.
-You could have at least been at the door to see her.
-There was no point.
-She’s your daughter and she watched you die. That’s the point Sasheen.
Brenda’s nose twitched, seeing the woman raise an eyebrow, looking up at her, before holding tighter onto Anastasia.
-She didn’t want to leave…
-I know Love. But she’s alive she couldn’t stay.
-She’s going back into that terrible place, that… Prison. Surrounded by people who don’t understand, who never will. She’ll be bullied and harassed. Hurt. Tormented.
Anastasia swallowed audibly, looking down.
-She’s going to be alone again… Wouldn’t you give anything to be back to her ?
Brenda smiled weakly, caressing her arm.
-I’d give anything to prevent that… I’d rather suffer a thousand deaths and life imprisonment if it means being with Ioanna… Holding her, kissing her, loving her, protecting her.
Joan sat up, her heart beating fast, taking shallow breaths, her eyes darting around.
She stabilized herself on her bed and tried slowing down her breathing, blinking fast.
She could remember the dream she just had, and God was it one kind of a dream.
She felt sadness pocking her insides, and sniffed, bringing her hand to her face feeling fresh tears on her skin.
Suddenly she brought her hand to her lips, muffling her sobs.
Anastasia…
That name.
She had said it.
She still could taste it on her lips.
Or was it that passionate kiss they shared, even if just in a dream ?
Joan laid back on her bed, her heart beating fast and warmth spreading through her despite the pain she felt.
She could almost remember all the details, so she got up from her bed and started writing all she could remember before it was too late.
Tears falling onto the pages of her diary.
She finally knew, after all these decades, she knew…
It had not eased her pain but the knowledge somehow alleviated the part of herself she blamed for her demise.
She loved… Loves her.
And remembered her last words.
They’d see each other again.
She just hoped it’d be soon.