Chapter Text
Anya lay in her bed staring at the wall, trying with all her might to erase the evening’s happenings from her brain, and trying to forget about the nasty bruise that had just formed around her wrist. She and her family had just returned from a Gala, held by her uncle George. Of course, seeing as it was a Gala, she appeared there with her boyfriend of two years, Gleb. He was a nice boy, passionate, thoughtful, and slightly possessive at times, but all boyfriends are like that.
After both Anya and Gleb had done the rounds with their separate families, Gleb had come up to Anya and held his hand out for her to take. She did so without an ounce of hesitation and felt his cold hand envelope hers. He guided her over to a small couch, that was just far away enough from the party that you could hear yourself think.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Gleb observed in his usual brash tone.
“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking,” Anya replied. She could barely recognize her own voice, It had changed drastically from bubbly and excited to sheepish and timid.
“What about?” He questioned, leaning back with his large arms folded over his chest.
“Just about the art project I have to work on in September.” Mistake one.
“Art Project? Is this a personal hobby?”
“No,” Anya mumbled. “It's for school.”
Gleb shook his head and let out a cold laugh.”I thought you said you were switching from art to family studies?”
Anya swallowed, hoping it would lessen the sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. “Well, I just, amn’t that interested in Family Studies, you know? And Art is one of my biggest passions, so I’ll most likely get a good grade in the subject-”
“What are you even going to use Art for in the future? You can hardly be an artist for a living, you would be broke the second you left your family home.” Why did she say anything, she knew he would react like this. It was always like this.
She had to refrain from letting her posture falter anymore than it typically did when she was in Gleb’s presence. Why did you bring up the fucking art project Anya?
“I know, but not everything you do has to be for your career. Some things are just for fun.” Mistake 2.
“Wow,” His voice was eerily calm. “So you think I’m just what? Some kind of Android who only thinks about his future?” He spat the words out with such fervour that Anya flinched. “God Anya, there’s no need to flinch.”
“I’m sorry Gleb, I really am. I didn’t mean to imply that you only think about your career. I meant it about me.” She meant for this to come out cool and collected, but instead, she blurted it out in a panicked rush.
“You’re really pathetic sometimes, you know that?” He wasn’t wrong. She was a pathetic coward. She couldn't even look him in the eye. It was a wonder he still put up with her.
“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t, I just wanted to-”
“I’m not saying this just to be mean, I’m looking out for you. You’re still caught up on that immature idea that you can pursue your little hobby of painting as a career. Remember what we were planning? I’d start doing some police training and you would major in Russian.” His tone had switched from the aggressive, vindictive one he had been using just moments ago.
“I know, then we’d get married and move to Russia.” The mere thought of this “plan” made her want to run. Run out of the gala, away from New York, away from everyone.
“It’s a good plan, stick to it.” His voice was final. He once more offered his hand to her, and once again she placed her hand in his, attempting to stop it from shaking. “Let’s go get a glass of champagne, God knows I need it.”
He lead her back into the life of the party, it was loud and people were dancing in the centre of the marble floor. It was a beautiful venue, that was something she could appreciate. Her father and his siblings had all been gifted an array of intricately designed buildings to share among themselves. They were the perfect spots to hold Galas and Birthday Celebrations.
A young boy, no older than Anya, was standing, wearing a tux and holding a tray that held several glasses of champagne. Gleb took two and thanked the boy.
“Here, this one is yours,” Gleb said, handing her a cold glass. Anya stared at the liquid, watching bubbles climb up to the surface and be popped. She took a small sip of the liquid and grimaced. She had never liked the champagne they served at these parties.
“Anya!” A smooth, honey-like voice cut through the noise, and she knew immediately who it was. She turned around to see Dmitry walking over to her, looking as stunning as ever.
“Dmitry!” she smiled, just a bit too enthusiastically. Gleb’s posture straightened beside her and he placed a tense arm around her waist.
“Hey, Gleb.” He greeted, his voice was colder when he regarded Gleb, but she knew that wouldn’t have much more of an impact on her than everything else was making.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you since-” He hesitated, and to the untrained eye, it could appear as if he was trying to recall when he last saw Anya. But to Gleb, this was much, much more than that. “It must have been early July!”
“God that feels like ages ago,” She giggled nervously, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks.
“Are you going out for track team this year?”
Gleb let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I hardly think so.”
A look of anger flashed across Dmitry’s face briefly before he masked it with confusion. “Why not?”
“She’s hardly the sporty type, is she?”
Anya knew she should have intervened, for her sake and Dmitry’s, but her mind was blank, and all she could think of was the way Dmitry had called her name. It sounded like a song when he said it.
“Well, I think you’d be good at it Anya,” There it was again. “You're small, but you move really fast.”
“I’ll see,” She said with a grin. “I presume you’re doing soccer.”
He grinned at her and Anya could feel sparks going off in her chest, something that she had yet to experience with Gleb. “Of course, the school needs a good striker.”
“Well, you’re pretty much guaranteed that spot.” The compliment slipped out so quickly she couldn’t stop to think what it would do. Immediately after she had spoken, Gleb tightened his grip on her waist. She shrunk even more than she thought possible.
Anya was positively terrified. Terrified that someone might notice the pure anger and violence so visible in his eyes or the way she cowered away from him when he faced her.
“I see Elijah over there, let’s go over and see how he’s doing,” Gleb commanded, and she knew by the tone of his voice that she was going to regret even acknowledging Dmitry’s existence. “It was nice speaking with you Dmitry, come along Anastasia.” The way he said her full name filled her with such a level of horror she could have sunk to the floor.
Before Anya could even say her goodbyes, Gleb wrapped his fingers around her wrist so tightly that it made her gasp. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Stop embarrassing yourself, you’re not going to go out for track. I don't want my girlfriend to be all muscley, understand?”
Anya nodded silently, trying her hardest to blink back the tears threatening to spill down her face and ruin her mascara.
“Do you understand me?” He hissed in her ear so aggressively that she shuddered. “Yes.”
“Gleb, Anya! How are you enjoying the evening?” Anya’s uncle George interrupted before Anya could get herself in even more of a mess. Gleb’s demeanour quickly changed back to the loving boyfriend he played in front of all their families.
“We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we Anastasia! ” Gleb beamed at her jolly uncle. It made Anya want to gag. “You always plan such lively events.”
“Oh, you’re too kind! You have a good one here Anastasia.” George commented.
Anya gave a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “I sure do.”
Gleb flashed a smile at her and pressed a kiss to her temple, but his iron grip on her wrist never relented for the whole evening.
The evening went on in that same way. Gleb paraded Anya around, playing his role as the perfect son and boyfriend and Anya stood there smiling nervously and wishing more than anything that the evening would be over soon.
The night finally came to an end, and Gleb had insisted that he drive Anya home. Her parents of course not just agreed, but encouraged it. He opened the door for her, and she settled into the leather seat of his Mercedes. The ride back to her home was filled with so much tension, Anya felt like she could drown in it.
“When did you really last see Dmitry?” He demanded.
Anya swallowed trying to keep her composure enough to tell a convincing lie. “Early July, like he said. It was a party for my cousin Katerina. You were there, don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember, I just know you’re lying.” His voice was vindictive, and she knew he was going to start getting violent. The scariest part was that they were alone.
“I’m not lying I promise.” She was playing a risky game here, but she didn’t want both her and Dmitry to suffer.
“What do you think I am, Anya? Do you think I’m as gullible and pathetic as you are?” The louder his voice grew, the more Anya shrunk in her seat. “In case you forgot, you’re my girlfriend, not his. So you can’t walk around acting like a whore!"
At this point, she had stopped attempting to hide her fear and was pressed up against the car window. She was shaking relentlessly and she could feel herself sweating. This wasn’t the first time he had gone ballistic at her in the car, so she had a vague idea of what was coming. But this time, he seemed really and truly furious.
He was slamming his fist down on the dashboard and shaking her shoulders vigorously at every red light, at least the windows were tinted, Anya thought bitterly. She just hoped he wouldn’t crash the car.
Finally, after half an hour of Gleb roaring at Anya, they pulled into her long driveway. Her parents were already inside. He opened the door for her and they began to say their goodbyes in front of his car.
“I don’t trust him, he’s messing with your head, I just know it. You shouldn’t speak to him anymore,”
She nodded, willing him to get in his car and drive away right then and there.
“Use your fucking words, Anya.” He spat, She looked down at the ground momentarily. That was her last mistake of the evening. When she looked back up he was met with the sting of his hand, forcefully meeting her cheek. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and she began to well up, trying profusely, for probably the fifth time that night to not break down sobbing.
“You’re being so overdramatic. I’m just saying this so you don’t get a bad reputation, it’s because I love you, Anya. Dmitry is just using you, he’s trying to mess with your head.”
“You’re right, I won’t talk to him again. I promise.”
“Good.” And with that, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you soon,”
.
Anya hurriedly ran up to her room and collapsed onto her bed. And now she was staring at her wall, reliving every moment, involuntarily. She could still feel his lips on hers, his arms around her waist. And she wouldn’t be able to forget about his hand around her wrist for a while.
Over and over the feeling wouldn’t leave her, until she finally got up from her bed and went into her en suite. She shed her satin grey dress and scraped her curls back into a bun before stepping into the shower.
She turned the shower onto its highest heat setting and let it just pelt onto her. She then picked up a loofah covered in shower gel and scrubbed her skin for a good ten minutes. She scrubbed and scrubbed until several layers of skin had been forcefully shed.
The bathroom was filled with so much steam that when she went back into her bedroom a large cloud followed her. Her skin was red and raw and it burned when she lay back down on her bed.
She fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning until sunlight fell onto her tired eyes.