The Path Back to You | Levi x OC

Chapter 39 - Phoenix

Anastasya

Fury and grief swirled within Anya, threatening to snatch her breath away. As she stared up at the moon, her mind replayed one of the most tragic days of her life, and she struggled to restrain her tears. It had been the day a part of her had died and another, stronger part had sparked into existence, changing her path forever.

***

After a day spent playing with friends, Anastasya darted through the sun-baked streets towards home, looking forward to the special meal that her father had promised to cook that evening. She trotted up the worn steps and flung the door wide open, pausing on the threshold as her father looked up from where he was preparing ingredients in the kitchen.
"Anastasya!" he said, smiling. "You're the first one back! Your mother and sister are still out shopping."
She closed the door and skipped over to him. She threw her arms around his legs, not yet tall enough to hug him properly, and grinned as he ruffled her hair.
"Are you going to help me with dinner?"
"Yeah!"
"All right! Well, we don't want your dress getting dirty..." He did a double take and frowned. "Or should I say dirtier! Your mother will be angry if she sees that mud at the bottom! Be a good girl and go change, and then you can help me with the surprise."
"Okay, daddy!"
She raced upstairs and changed as fast as she could before scrubbing her face clean and tying her hair back. As she was leaving her room, she heard a crash and muffled shouting from the kitchen and froze.
"Interfering... whatever you think you know... should have just kept your mouth shut!"
Full of fear, she crept down the stairs and peered through the wooden railings. Two men wearing cloaks were attacking her father, beating him again and again. She watched, petrified, as her father spat blood onto the floor and tried to fight back, but they took the knife he had been using to prepare the ingredients for dinner with and stabbed him in the chest.
"Problem solved," one of the men said, watching as Anya's father dropped to the ground.
"We still have to tie up loose ends. No doubt the wife knows something. We'll get her another time, though," said the other. "Let's get out of here."
After trashing the house and stealing the few valuables the Morozov family possessed, the men fled out of the back door. As soon as she was sure they were gone, Anya tore down the stairs and fell to the floor next to her father.
"Daddy! DADDY! Wake up!"
Her father groaned and rolled onto his back. He raised a trembling hand to caress her face, the colour draining from his skin as blood pooled around them both.
"Anastasya..." he sighed. "I love you, your mother and your sister so much. Make sure...make sure to tell them...okay? Anastasya... I'm proud of you. You're...you're going to do such fantastic things. Remember that you must question everything in this world. Things...things are not as they seem. Trust few people... Don't tell everyone what you really...really believe. Not until...you have...support. Too much corruption... Wanted...a better world for you...you all. I...I'm sorry."
She screamed as her father took his last breath. She clutched at one of his hands and kissed it, trying to bring him back but it was no use. She was terrified that the men would come back and kill her, her mother, and her sister and so after a few minutes, she got to her feet and bolted back into the city. Every step she took vibrated throughout her entire body. She'd left with the intention of finding her mother, but now she simply ran and ran and ran, trying to escape the awful images that appeared in her head each time she blinked. At last she tripped and fell, grazing her hands and knees. The impact was enough to jolt her out of her trance, and she began to wail sitting on the cold, hard paving stones next to the canal.
"Um... What's wrong?"
She looked up and the face of a blonde-haired boy swam across her vision. The only fixed points were his icy blue eyes.
"Are you hurt?!" he asked, kneeling in front of her. "Here."
He spat into a handkerchief and then used it to wipe at her cheek.
"What's your name?" he tried.
Anya, however, was still sobbing hysterically. The boy, seemingly at a loss as to what to do, gently put an arm around her. When she didn't react, he pulled her into a hug. Her fingers curled around his shirt and she clung onto him, desperate to block everything out. The boy held her tightly for a good five minutes, only releasing her when her sobs started to subside. He offered a tentative smile, and she scrubbed at her eyes.
"Will you tell me why you were crying?"
She shook her head, feeling as though her tongue had turned to stone. The boy frowned, his bushy eyebrows angling downwards.
"Did someone hurt you?"
She shook her head again, fresh tears springing forth.
"I'm Erwin," he told her. "Erwin Smith. What's your name?"
She felt her tongue loosen just a little and tried to speak.
"A-Anastasya...M-Morozova," she sniffled.
"You have a beautiful name. Anastasya, why don't we go for a walk?"
She looked at him, her father's last words echoing in her mind. Trust few people. Could the boy be one of those people? He seemed kind, and she felt safer in his presence. Slowly, she got to her feet, nibbling at the top of her thumb. Erwin got up, too, and began to walk but Anya stayed rooted to the spot. When Erwin realised that she wasn't following, he turned round and held out one of his hands.
"It's all right, Anastasya. You can trust me."
After another pause, Anya reached forward and took his hand, and together they walked through the city. Erwin talked the entire time about school, animals, and the book he was currently reading. However, when they approached a house, Anya froze again.
"This is where I live," Erwin told her. "I want you to meet my father."
Upon hearing the word 'father', she began wailing again, and Erwin led her inside as quickly as possible. Moments later, a tall, thin man wearing glasses approached them.
"Erwin? What- Erwin! What's happened?!"
"This is Anastasya Morozova. I found her like this by the canal."
"Goodness... Bring her into the kitchen."
Anya was led to the kitchen and sat down on a wooden chair.
"Is she hurt?" his father asked.
"I don't think so, apart from her hands and knees. The blood... it's from someone else."
"Morozova, you said?"
"Yes."
Erwin's father disappeared into another room and then reappeared with a blanket, which he carefully placed around Anya's shoulders before crouching down to be eye level with her.
"Anastasya, my name is Mr Smith. It's very important that you tell me what happened to make you so upset."
Something about Mr Smith's eyes and Erwin's worried but determined face next to him made her crack.
"They killed my daddy!"
She watched as Mr Smith and Erwin's expressions became horrified.
"Who did?" Erwin blurted.
"Erwin," his father scolded him. "Anastasya, do you know who hurt your father?"
"The...the men. The policemen!"
Erwin's father took a sharp intake of breath.
"Did they see you?"
She shook her head, snot dripping from her nose. Mr Smith straightened up, a deep frown on his face.
"Erwin. Stay here and look after her. I'll be back soon."
"Father?"
"Don't answer the door for anyone. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Mr Smith left, and Erwin shifted awkwardly.
"Would you like a drink?" Anya nodded, and Erwin started preparing tea. "My father says children shouldn't drink this, but every so often he lets me have some."
A few minutes later, he placed a cup down on the small table beside her.
"You have to wait a little because it's hot. Hey...How old are you?"
"Seven."
"Ah, I'm a few years older than you, then."
They fell into silence and Erwin shifted again.
"Do you want see my room?"
"O-Okay."
He led her upstairs to a medium-sized bedroom which was absolutely packed full of books.
"That's where I study," he said, pointing to a wooden desk with a small chair in front of it. "These are my books. This is a really cool rock I found. Look; it sparkles."
Anya was momentarily distracted by the violet-blue rock. It was only small, but it glittered and glimmered in the light of the lanterns.
"My father told me it's a rare-coloured amethyst," he said, holding it up and glancing between it and Anya. "It's the same colour as your eyes!"
"Pretty," she mumbled.
"I was really proud when I found it! Oh, and here's a fossil I found. My father teaches history, and even he doesn't know what it's from. Do you know what a fossil is?"
She shook her head, and Erwin fetched a book before going over to his bed and patting a place next to him.
"I'll teach you."
She went over and let Erwin tell her all about fossils, realising that learning something was helping to distract her from what had happened earlier. After half an hour or so, Mr Smith appeared in the doorway.
"Anastasya. I bought some new clothes for you. You need to change into them straight away."
She slid off the bed and dutifully took the bundle, and Mr Smith ushered Erwin from the room. She realised her clothes were saturated with dark blood and, dazed, she changed into the black skirt and lavender blouse that Mr Smith had given her. She opened the door to find him and Erwin waiting outside.
"Good girl," said Mr Smith. "Now, I think we need to get you back to your mother, don't you?"
She nodded, though she was afraid to go near her house again. Afraid of seeing her father there, staring up at the ceiling with cold, glassy eyes.
"Father, may I come too?" Erwin asked.
Mr Smith hesitated.
"It's better if you stay here..."
Anya didn't want to be apart from Erwin. He'd been the first one to show her kindness after the horror she'd witnessed. She grabbed onto his hand.
"Erwin!" she said, desperate.
Mr Smith sighed.
"Very well. Fetch your coat, son."
The three of them left the house and emerged into the darkened street. Anya wondered how Mr Smith knew where she lived. Within ten minutes, they arrived at her front door. A light was on in the window, and Mr Smith knocked. Moments later, Anya's mother appeared, her hair a tangled mess, her face red and glistening with silver tear tracks.
"Anastasya!"
"Mumma!"
She released Erwin's hand and ran into her mother's arms. Her mother hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head and glancing down the street before inviting Erwin and his father inside. Anya went to sit in the living room, staying well clear of the kitchen. She wondered if her father was still there. Erwin joined her on the sofa as her sister, Katerina, ran down the stairs and hugged her.
"Daddy's dead!" she wept.
"I know," sobbed Anya. "I saw it! I saw what they did!"
Mr Smith stayed talking to Anya's mother for a long time. Katerina drifted off to sleep, but Anya was still far too traumatised to dare shutting her eyes for more than a few seconds, let alone hours. Erwin quietly read aloud from a book, and she listened, letting his calm voice carry her into the world of the story. When they heard the adults emerge into the hallway, Erwin shut the book and turned to her, his icy gaze intense.
"I'll come back tomorrow," he told her. "I promise."
"R-really?" she asked.
"Yes. And the next day, and the day after that. I'll bring new books, too."
The smallest glimmer of light shone through the darkness of her grief, and she knew, then, that she could trust Erwin Smith with all her heart and, that in him, she had found a friend for life.