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Tightening his arms around me, he quickly carried me over to the trashcan in the kitchen, where I proceeded to hunch over it and empty my stomach's content into it. Well, at least I had Stepan comforting me by rubbing my back while he held my hair back, even though this was all his fucking fault.
After I got done hurling my life out into the trash and rinsed my mouth, Stepan carried me back to the couch and situated us like earlier before coaxing me to open up about Hanna with words of comfort and reassurance in between until I relented.
My hesitation waned enough to where I felt myself slip back to that day. Just a quick glimpse and I could—no! They were there, I didn't want them to be, but they were there. They touched me, grabbed me—the pain, it hurts, it hurt so much! "No! Nonononono! Stop touching me! It hurts!" I was back in the mold-filled room on the ratty mattress with a monster on top of me; his alcohol-filled breath was all I could taste all the way into my lungs.
"H…a!" A familiar voice, but who? My body moved, but not because of this horrid bastard in front of me. "It's not real, not anymore, you're not there, you are here, safe, with me. Focus, find Nana and tell me what she looks like. I am here Hanna. I am here, and I have got you."
Pain, all the pain I'd felt, staled out as my eyes searched the plain room. Where was Nana? She was usually right here, right—there! There she—no… Yes? "Nana?" The blurry figure of a girl faded like a ghost until all I saw was my own reflection on a floor-length mirror across from the mattress.
"No! Nana come back!" I pleaded until my throat became raw.
Lashing my hands out, I clawed my way towards her fading figure, towards the mirror. Then, I touched something solid. Splaying my hands against the warm surface, I blinked a few times before snapping out of it to face Stepan's concerned but comforting face.
Hot tears burned my face like trails of lava as they spilled over uncontrollably. "What did you do? She was there but then she disappeared. I can't see her." What trickery did he play on my mind? What fucked up mind games was he playing at?
"What did you see then, tell me." The air around Stepan shifted as he wiped the tears away with his thumb.
"A ghost of her, but then she disappeared…" Words lumped and lodged at my throat, choking my own voice from coming out any further—preventing the truth from surfacing.
"Then what, Hanna? Then what did you see after that?" He urged me in a desperate voice while his eyes comforted and coaxed me.
My mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water as I struggled to get the single-word answer out. Instead of answering him, I did something stupid. I went back. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I remembered wrong.
Very bad idea. Worst I ever had in my life.
Acid like breath hit my neck and ear as the man reappeared before me. "Nana, you're such a good little doll."
Well, I definitely remembered why I hated being called doll by people. That was not the point, though; I needed to find Nana. Shutting the man out, I searched the small room again, only to have my attention jerk back to the man because of something he did.
"Nana."
"No! Stop calling me that! And stop touching me! It hurts! Please stop! Please! Just stop!" Viciously, I threw my head from side to side in denial as I lashed out with my fists and kicked my legs.
A slam into something solid caused my mind to fully snap back and realize that I'd lashed out at Stepan when I noticed how I tried to pull my wrists free from his grip. "I'm so sorry, I didn't—"
Releasing me, Stepan shifted me against him and soothed me with long strokes up and down the length of my back. "Shh, you don't have to apologize, you've done nothing wrong, it's just an unconscious reaction, you weren't here fully. It's okay." His lighthearted tone meant he held nothing against me for beating at him just now.
Continuing to soothe me, he whispered something in Russian to me as he peppered my face with loving kisses. "Whenever you're ready, tell me where you went and what you saw." He encouraged, not letting up with his kisses while he threaded his fingers through my thick hair.
There was a moment of understanding silence between us as I worked up the nerve to relive the moment through my words. "I was back there, in that horrid room, some man was there, I don't know who, just a gross man. He was touching me, he had his hands all over me, and I was naked. He kept calling me his doll, kept calling me Nana. I tried to look around for her, but all I kept seeing was my own reflection in a stupid mirror. But why? Why can't I see her? Why do I see myself? It makes no sense." Confusion gripped and choked at me, causing my anxiety to rise again with every quickening breath.
Stepan's eyes softened with sadness as he stroked my face with the back of his finger. "Breathe, in and hold then out. Breathe. Tell me about the fire now, what happened that day? How did you start the fire, Hanna?" Down then up, just as I calmed enough, his question threw me for a loop.
"What? What you? How I started the fire?" I'd already told him the fire wasn't my doing! It was Nana…
…Who didn't exist…
Embracing me, he covered me in his presence of safety and comfort. "Tell me what happened, malenkaya," he urged me warmly and softly, "It's okay. The truth won't hurt you, it will set you free."
Memories of the fateful night came flooding in, memories I barely had any recollection of.
It's done, it's over, breathe.
My tiny body shook with every trembling breath as I lay curled on the mattress, paying no attention to the man as he dressed himself. But something caught my attention: a small box. I don't know what came over me, but I lunged for it on a whim, snatching the box into my tiny hands and cradling it closely to my chest like a lifeline.
"Oh Nana, it's okay, I'll be back tomorrow, you don't have to beg at my feet." The man's chuckling words echoed out with his fading footsteps, and they shut out completely with the opening and closing of the door.
Alone, I pulled my hands away to study the box of matches closely. I decided at that moment, no idea what, but I made up my mind about something dire.
