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Hanna
The soft click of the front door meant Stepan was finally home.
Betrayed by my own body, I felt my head dart up like some bird towards a sound, giving myself away.
"Love, you're supposed to be asleep." He noted aloud with a sigh as he made his way over to the couch, where I remained bundled up in my blanket burrito.
"And you know how it goes all the time." I couldn't sleep without Stepan next to me; my mind and body had been conditioned to have his presence embrace me to slumber.
Besides, this had been our new routine for the past month after we compiled a list of my offenders to the best of our knowledge and capabilities. Nearly every weekend, Stepan would go out after dinner to cross someone off the list while I remained in the safety of our home, awaiting his return, bundled on the couch with my stuffed wolf. Sleep never came for me during this time because I'd be too anxious about Stepan's return, where he'd give me the spent bullet and casing with the victim's name etched on it—a sign that the deed had been done.
The exchange was always silent, and nothing much would come of it after I gave him a silent sign of my gratitude, usually through a tearful hug or kiss before we moved on.
But not tonight.
Stepan's once bright blues were darkened with a storm, which unsettled me greatly. Apologetic, pity, sadness, regret; why were such things reflecting in his eyes? No question left my lips because I was too busy studying my lover with wary eyes, watching as he took the bullet and casing from me to tuck them away before situating himself on the couch.
Soft sounds of shuffling filled the air when I immediately crawled into his lap to seek out his warmth and comfort, but I felt none as he fixed my position with his strong hands so that I straddled and faced him. Immediately, my eyes avoided his face out of fear for what was to come, but I had no choice but to face him when he commanded me in his dominating voice, "Malenkaya, look at me." Conditioned, my body obeyed, nor did I fight it.
Unlike his even breathing, mine was erratic with anxious energy. "We need to talk." His voice was as calm and leveled as his controlled breathing, which surprisingly calmed me even though I felt like some petulant child being reprimanded at the moment.
"What about?" I spat with a scowl, not liking where this was going.
"Nana." At least he didn't seem pleased about it either, but at the same time, why bring it up if it brought both of us no joy.
"There's nothing to talk about." Oh, there was a shit ton to talk about in regards to that subject matter, but I'd rather eat rotten shit than swallow that subject ever. "Besides, I already told you, Nana was my friend in the brothel when I was forced there for my two years. I don't know why everyone keeps calling me that when they see me. All of them, not just one, all. It's stupid. Can't they fucking see that I'm not Nana? I'm not her! I'm me!" My raising voice cracked with rage and confusion.
A long sigh passed out of Stepan as he held me tightly and kissed my forehead longingly after whispering, "Mne ochen' zhal' za to, chto ya sobirayus' sdelat', no eto dlya tvoyego zhe blaga. YA tebya lyublyu."
The shock of his following words cut off all trains of thought in my brain. "Yes, you are."
The bastard. Anger and betrayal grit at my teeth achingly as I shoved at him. "Not you too! You know damn well I'm not!" How could he do this? Of all the people in my life, the only one I trusted to have my back through it all, even he turned on me in the end. He didn't deserve to look so hurt and broken at my reaction, not when he was the direct cause and knew damn well the reason.
His grip on me didn't falter, though, no matter how much I pushed and shoved at him. "Yes, you are. You're Nana. Nana was your name in the place, what they called you." He insisted firmly with a resolute voice.
Snapping back with as much bite as I could muster, "No! It's not! That was her name!" I don't care how much I cared for him; his neck would be wrung for this.
Grunting through my hits, he wrestled with me slightly to keep me from escaping. "Her who? Tell me who this 'her' looked like then. What was she like? Who was Nana, Hanna? Put yourself back there and tell me what Nana looked like and how she was as a person." He continued to press despite my increasing discomfort and fight.
"Why the fuck does this all matter?" I wanted to shut myself in a dark room and brood alone, not answer his stupid questions.
"Just answer me and I'll let you go." He wagered while tightening his hold on me.
If that's what it will take to get away from him, then fine. "A girl, I told you, she was a girl there who was my only friend in that God-forsaken hell hole." The answer came out nearly robotically, but there was pain breaking my voice as tears stung my eyes.
He urged in a soft voice, "Keep going." Slowly, he lowered my hands into my lap and bear hugged me. "What did she look like Hanna? What was she like?"
All the fight I had left me the moment my mind went back to years ago before I shut down completely to preserve myself. "Why are you making me do this? What did I do?" Was this a cruel punishment for something I did? It had to be. Why else would he bring this shit show up and shove my face into it?
Whispers of a sigh ghosted my ear before the chill of warmth from his lips touched my temple. "I'm not punishing you, malenkaya. I'm doing this for your benefit. Now, answer my question. Put yourself back there, immerse yourself and tell me everything the day of the fire after you tell me what Nana looks like." What was his plan here then?
Tightening my lips, I fought the memories that threatened to bust the door down to flood me. In a silent plea, I looked at Stepan with desperation. Unfortunately, he wasn't having any of it. "I am right here love. I got you, and I will keep you rooted. You won't go through it alone, I won't let you." His eyes softened with his own plea for me to continue.
The mere thought of reliving that day spiked my heart rate and caused my stomach to churn my dinner up. "No, I can't, don't make me, please." I needed to make it to the toilet, or the sink, or some container to vomit in.
Erratically, my eyes darted around the area as my chest tightened uncomfortably. "Hanna." Stepan's voice boomed, making my attention zero in on him. "You can, and you will. Do it for me, you can do it. Tell me what Nana looked like, start there." He spoke in a softened voice as his arms released their constriction around me so he could hold my face tenderly.
"Daddy, I'm gonna throw up," I whined before the dry heaves hit me, causing my body to jerk as I did my best to hold back my vomit.
