[Story #1 - Breaking Hearts]
“I’m so sorry, Ivan…”
He stared at the woman blankly, uncomprehending. She didn’t look at him, preferring to look at the cap she was twisting helplessly between her hands in her lap. Without it, her long hair fell to hide a large part of her face. It had been gathered to the right side and she had nervously run her fingers through it so many times it was almost impossibly tangled.
“Arina? What’s wrong?” His voice was tired and pained, holding a note of confusion he would have tried to suppress if it were anyone but her. His sister gripped the cap tightly between both hands.
“Brother… the doctors told you where you were found, correct?” She whispered the words hauntedly. Her pale, tired face was nothing like he remembered. The spark of life in her eyes was almost gone, as if she had gone through hell while he had been asleep in the hospital bed. The last time he had seen her like this had been when their mother had died.
“No,” he whispered back, worriedly, “nobody told me anything.” For some reason, he couldn’t remember. He pressed a hand to his head, trying to remember. The stranger- he remembered him. He was hard to forget. The man dressed in scientist garb who had knocked him out so easily. But after that, everything seemed to be blank.
She shuddered, gripping the cap so tightly that it made a faint noise of protest, the fabric creaking as if it threatened to tear. How could she tell him what the doctors refused to? How could she tell her brother what had happened? A faint frown crossed Ivan’s face and she jumped as he spoke. His voice was hesitant, dreamy, as if he was trying to remember something best forgotten.
“I woke up in a dark, dark place. I couldn’t move. There was so little room. I think it was one of the lockers. I could hear a voice. Someone called to me and I- I can’t remember...” His voice trailed off and he looked at her with puzzlement in his eyes. “Why can’t I remember, ‘rina?”
“The soldiers sent to the base found you in the jungle, Ivan.”
She kept her voice as light as she could, which wasn’t very light at all. Her voice was trembling and he had to lean over to hear her words. Arina drew in a shuddering breath and resolved to tell the truth if it killed her.
“Brother… when they found you, you were unconscious. The soldier who found you said he thought you were dead. You weren’t moving and there was blood- you’d hit your head on something.”
He took a moment to mull over her words. It made sense. If he had fallen that might account for why he couldn’t remember anything. But it still didn’t make sense for him to wake up in a Moscow hospital. Surely the Colonel would not have sent him so far away over such a minor thing? Seeing his confusion, his sister choked back a sob and continued.
“Vanya, dear, dear brother, don’t you understand?” she whispered, keeping her voice low in case anyone overheard. “You were found, you’re safe, that’s all that matters…”
He began to ask what she was talking about, but cut off sharply, clutching his head. An image of something burning seemed to have jumped into his head. A building? No… it couldn’t be. But he could almost feel the heat just from the faint memory, hear the crackling of the flames as they consumed-
“Arina, where is the Colonel? Why has he sent me here?” He snapped out the question sharply, sounding distressed. Even as she opened her mouth to answer, a doctor, alerted by the distressed note in his voice came rushing over to silence her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“I think that’s enough for now,” he warned, looking at Ivan with cold concern. “He’s getting worked up. Come on, I’d better show you out.”
Jerking away from his hand, she moved forward to lean over Ivan, pressing her lips gently against his cheek. Her lips moved silently, as if she was trying to tell him something private. Before he could ask her to explain again she was gone. All that remained was the memory of soft hair brushing against his skin as she kissed him.
It would be two agonizing days before he was allowed to hear the truth.
“Everyone… died.”
The softly spoken words were loud in the silence of the empty room. Arina didn’t dare to look up. She didn’t need to look at him to see his reaction. Without even thinking about it she could picture it in her mind. It would be the same look on his face from fourteen years ago. She could see the confusion as he tried to make sense of the words, billowing into shock as they sank in fully. Without even looking she could tell his eyes were slowly widening, his skin paling as he shrank back from her. He would be gripping the sheets beneath his hand tightly, tight enough to turn pale knuckles even whiter.
There was silence in the room. She lifted her head slowly to look at him. Just as she’d thought. His normally warm eyes were wide in shock, looking distressingly bright against his starkly white skin. He had paled to the point where he might have been mistaken for an упыр, a possessed corpse reanimated by demons. She half-expected him to lunge forward and bite her. She swallowed, continuing with her story.
“I don’t know what you were doing in the jungle, Ivan. All I know is what I got from the soldiers that found you. There had been no contact. They came there to find the fortress burnt to the ground.”
He made a strangled noise deep in his throat and leaned back against the wall. His body was trembling without his awareness, slow, harsh tremors that were the implications of his memory. The building had burnt. He remembered standing there in front of it, lost and confused, and watching as the flames reached up towards the sky. How had he gotten out? He thought someone had helped him, but he couldn’t remember. The feel of arms around him, tugging him towards safety- who had it been? It had been before the building had gone up. Someone must have been aware of the danger. The thought that they were probably dead was not a pleasant one.
What had happened after that? He seemed to remember voices, people calling to him. The Colonel. What had happened to the Colonel? He hadn’t been able to take it. Even though he could have helped… in the end, all he had been able to do was run away. What kind of soldier was he, to have reacted so pathetically? Until he felt soft fingers gripping his wrists tightly, he hadn’t even noticed that his fingers were gripping his hair tightly almost at the roots. At the realisation, he loosened his grip, noticing the pain for the first time. His head was aching.
He leant forwards, burying his face in his sister’s chest and clinging to her without shame. There was no need to ask. He knew Yevgeny would never have allowed him to be taken away if he were able to prevent it. Her soft arms cradled him like a child and she rubbed his back soothingly with long fingers, massaging rather than caressing.
They stayed like that for a long time. He could feel her hair tickling against his ear. In their position he could hear the steady beat of her heart. It would have been soothing if he had not felt so distressed. In that moment, he felt entirely empty inside. It was as if he had woken into a nightmare rather than escaping one. He felt something warm and damp touch his neck and he knew it was tears. Arina was grieving for him while he was unable to grieve for himself.
Her head was bent over him, her eyes closed. She knew her brother better than he knew himself. Ivan had always been the devoted type. Once you were in his heart, he never let you go, no matter how many times you stuck thorns into the walls and made him bleed. Her own body shook slightly with the effort of holding back her sobs. It was as if she was feeling the pain she knew he was trying to suppress.
“Brother…?” she whispered softly, knowing he wouldn’t answer. True to form, he remained silent. Wrapped up in his grief, she knew he wouldn’t move unless she pulled herself away. Somehow she couldn’t do it. It hurt that her distant brother was only ever close to her when he needed comfort. It hurt her deep down, in a place she had long since locked away inside her heart. The shallower part of her revelled in this closeness, knowing it was only borne of grief but still unable to resist it. He was desperate for comfort and so he came to her, the only person he would show weakness to. It was beautiful, somehow.
She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, her arms tightening around him. It wasn’t fair, somehow. He was her brother. She had always been devoted to him, and yet the only time he wouldn’t flinch away from her was when he was desperate for comfort, for affection. It hurt somehow. Perhaps he was not the only one who stood still and allowed thorns to be pushed slowly into his heart if they were pushed by people close to him.
His strong arms tightened around her waist slightly, almost imperceptibly. He was too lost in his grief to think of her, to even notice anything of her but her comforting warmth and the soft scent of their mother’s perfume. It was on the dress she was wearing, which had belonged to their mother. It was only the third time he’d ever seen her in one. He faintly suspected she had worn it specifically for that purpose, aware of how he’d react. It was somehow soothing despite that knowledge.
It was like being a child again, being held like this. Ivan rarely allowed himself to feel guilt over anything, no matter how foolish, unless it had caused the Colonel distress. Now, however, his mind was racing, wondering if he could have helped. It was painful to realise he couldn’t. If the Colonel was hurt or dead - and he suspected the latter - then an ordinary fool like him would have been unable to do anything. Did he even know he was alive? Had he been informed at all when he was found? His throat feels constricted, too tight for him to breathe. If Yevgeny had died thinking he was already dead…
He slumped against her. One of her hands came up to toy with his hair affectionately, recognizing the sign. She ran it between her fingers, admiring the soft feel of it without even noticing her own treacherous thoughts. Ivan would simply not move for a while, she knew. He would be too wrapped up in his own grief to notice her. It had been the same back then, the last time she had had to comfort her grieving brother. She could hear a faint litany of mumbled words from his lips, barely noticeable, but she didn’t pay attention. It wasn’t her he was talking to.
She could feel his hot breath against her chest as he whispered into her breasts. It was pitiful, this horrified, broken state her brother so rarely entered into. It had been fourteen years since she had seen him like this. He must have been closer to this man than he was to anyone else.
She petted him absently, her hand lightly rubbing the back of his head every so often. It had been a shock, she knew, but he would survive. As painful as it was, he would recover. Still, her heart bled for him a little, even as part of her rejoiced in the loss of the man who had held her brother’s heart so possessively close to his own. Lifting a hand, she wiped the tears from her own cheeks. It was not the Colonel she grieved for. It was Ivan.
Before long, the murmured words died down and she risked a glance at him. “Ivan?” she whispered softly, not expecting a response. There was none. Whether he was asleep, or simply too lost in grief to hear, she didn’t know. She simply held him close, not caring as the hours passed and the room darkened. By the time the sun rose the next day they were both asleep, slumped together against the wall.
TO BE CONTINUED…
NOTES
упыр - “Upir” (oo-pee-r). Basically, a vampire. Traditionally in Russian mythology, they were considered to be corpses brought back via demonic possession or sorcery. The original myth was of corpses that would rise and drink the blood of their loved ones before returning to death once their loved ones were forced to join them in the afterlife.
He stared at the woman blankly, uncomprehending. She didn’t look at him, preferring to look at the cap she was twisting helplessly between her hands in her lap. Without it, her long hair fell to hide a large part of her face. It had been gathered to the right side and she had nervously run her fingers through it so many times it was almost impossibly tangled.
“Arina? What’s wrong?” His voice was tired and pained, holding a note of confusion he would have tried to suppress if it were anyone but her. His sister gripped the cap tightly between both hands.
“Brother… the doctors told you where you were found, correct?” She whispered the words hauntedly. Her pale, tired face was nothing like he remembered. The spark of life in her eyes was almost gone, as if she had gone through hell while he had been asleep in the hospital bed. The last time he had seen her like this had been when their mother had died.
“No,” he whispered back, worriedly, “nobody told me anything.” For some reason, he couldn’t remember. He pressed a hand to his head, trying to remember. The stranger- he remembered him. He was hard to forget. The man dressed in scientist garb who had knocked him out so easily. But after that, everything seemed to be blank.
She shuddered, gripping the cap so tightly that it made a faint noise of protest, the fabric creaking as if it threatened to tear. How could she tell him what the doctors refused to? How could she tell her brother what had happened? A faint frown crossed Ivan’s face and she jumped as he spoke. His voice was hesitant, dreamy, as if he was trying to remember something best forgotten.
“I woke up in a dark, dark place. I couldn’t move. There was so little room. I think it was one of the lockers. I could hear a voice. Someone called to me and I- I can’t remember...” His voice trailed off and he looked at her with puzzlement in his eyes. “Why can’t I remember, ‘rina?”
“The soldiers sent to the base found you in the jungle, Ivan.”
She kept her voice as light as she could, which wasn’t very light at all. Her voice was trembling and he had to lean over to hear her words. Arina drew in a shuddering breath and resolved to tell the truth if it killed her.
“Brother… when they found you, you were unconscious. The soldier who found you said he thought you were dead. You weren’t moving and there was blood- you’d hit your head on something.”
He took a moment to mull over her words. It made sense. If he had fallen that might account for why he couldn’t remember anything. But it still didn’t make sense for him to wake up in a Moscow hospital. Surely the Colonel would not have sent him so far away over such a minor thing? Seeing his confusion, his sister choked back a sob and continued.
“Vanya, dear, dear brother, don’t you understand?” she whispered, keeping her voice low in case anyone overheard. “You were found, you’re safe, that’s all that matters…”
He began to ask what she was talking about, but cut off sharply, clutching his head. An image of something burning seemed to have jumped into his head. A building? No… it couldn’t be. But he could almost feel the heat just from the faint memory, hear the crackling of the flames as they consumed-
“Arina, where is the Colonel? Why has he sent me here?” He snapped out the question sharply, sounding distressed. Even as she opened her mouth to answer, a doctor, alerted by the distressed note in his voice came rushing over to silence her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“I think that’s enough for now,” he warned, looking at Ivan with cold concern. “He’s getting worked up. Come on, I’d better show you out.”
Jerking away from his hand, she moved forward to lean over Ivan, pressing her lips gently against his cheek. Her lips moved silently, as if she was trying to tell him something private. Before he could ask her to explain again she was gone. All that remained was the memory of soft hair brushing against his skin as she kissed him.
It would be two agonizing days before he was allowed to hear the truth.
“Everyone… died.”
The softly spoken words were loud in the silence of the empty room. Arina didn’t dare to look up. She didn’t need to look at him to see his reaction. Without even thinking about it she could picture it in her mind. It would be the same look on his face from fourteen years ago. She could see the confusion as he tried to make sense of the words, billowing into shock as they sank in fully. Without even looking she could tell his eyes were slowly widening, his skin paling as he shrank back from her. He would be gripping the sheets beneath his hand tightly, tight enough to turn pale knuckles even whiter.
There was silence in the room. She lifted her head slowly to look at him. Just as she’d thought. His normally warm eyes were wide in shock, looking distressingly bright against his starkly white skin. He had paled to the point where he might have been mistaken for an упыр, a possessed corpse reanimated by demons. She half-expected him to lunge forward and bite her. She swallowed, continuing with her story.
“I don’t know what you were doing in the jungle, Ivan. All I know is what I got from the soldiers that found you. There had been no contact. They came there to find the fortress burnt to the ground.”
He made a strangled noise deep in his throat and leaned back against the wall. His body was trembling without his awareness, slow, harsh tremors that were the implications of his memory. The building had burnt. He remembered standing there in front of it, lost and confused, and watching as the flames reached up towards the sky. How had he gotten out? He thought someone had helped him, but he couldn’t remember. The feel of arms around him, tugging him towards safety- who had it been? It had been before the building had gone up. Someone must have been aware of the danger. The thought that they were probably dead was not a pleasant one.
What had happened after that? He seemed to remember voices, people calling to him. The Colonel. What had happened to the Colonel? He hadn’t been able to take it. Even though he could have helped… in the end, all he had been able to do was run away. What kind of soldier was he, to have reacted so pathetically? Until he felt soft fingers gripping his wrists tightly, he hadn’t even noticed that his fingers were gripping his hair tightly almost at the roots. At the realisation, he loosened his grip, noticing the pain for the first time. His head was aching.
He leant forwards, burying his face in his sister’s chest and clinging to her without shame. There was no need to ask. He knew Yevgeny would never have allowed him to be taken away if he were able to prevent it. Her soft arms cradled him like a child and she rubbed his back soothingly with long fingers, massaging rather than caressing.
They stayed like that for a long time. He could feel her hair tickling against his ear. In their position he could hear the steady beat of her heart. It would have been soothing if he had not felt so distressed. In that moment, he felt entirely empty inside. It was as if he had woken into a nightmare rather than escaping one. He felt something warm and damp touch his neck and he knew it was tears. Arina was grieving for him while he was unable to grieve for himself.
Her head was bent over him, her eyes closed. She knew her brother better than he knew himself. Ivan had always been the devoted type. Once you were in his heart, he never let you go, no matter how many times you stuck thorns into the walls and made him bleed. Her own body shook slightly with the effort of holding back her sobs. It was as if she was feeling the pain she knew he was trying to suppress.
“Brother…?” she whispered softly, knowing he wouldn’t answer. True to form, he remained silent. Wrapped up in his grief, she knew he wouldn’t move unless she pulled herself away. Somehow she couldn’t do it. It hurt that her distant brother was only ever close to her when he needed comfort. It hurt her deep down, in a place she had long since locked away inside her heart. The shallower part of her revelled in this closeness, knowing it was only borne of grief but still unable to resist it. He was desperate for comfort and so he came to her, the only person he would show weakness to. It was beautiful, somehow.
She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, her arms tightening around him. It wasn’t fair, somehow. He was her brother. She had always been devoted to him, and yet the only time he wouldn’t flinch away from her was when he was desperate for comfort, for affection. It hurt somehow. Perhaps he was not the only one who stood still and allowed thorns to be pushed slowly into his heart if they were pushed by people close to him.
His strong arms tightened around her waist slightly, almost imperceptibly. He was too lost in his grief to think of her, to even notice anything of her but her comforting warmth and the soft scent of their mother’s perfume. It was on the dress she was wearing, which had belonged to their mother. It was only the third time he’d ever seen her in one. He faintly suspected she had worn it specifically for that purpose, aware of how he’d react. It was somehow soothing despite that knowledge.
It was like being a child again, being held like this. Ivan rarely allowed himself to feel guilt over anything, no matter how foolish, unless it had caused the Colonel distress. Now, however, his mind was racing, wondering if he could have helped. It was painful to realise he couldn’t. If the Colonel was hurt or dead - and he suspected the latter - then an ordinary fool like him would have been unable to do anything. Did he even know he was alive? Had he been informed at all when he was found? His throat feels constricted, too tight for him to breathe. If Yevgeny had died thinking he was already dead…
He slumped against her. One of her hands came up to toy with his hair affectionately, recognizing the sign. She ran it between her fingers, admiring the soft feel of it without even noticing her own treacherous thoughts. Ivan would simply not move for a while, she knew. He would be too wrapped up in his own grief to notice her. It had been the same back then, the last time she had had to comfort her grieving brother. She could hear a faint litany of mumbled words from his lips, barely noticeable, but she didn’t pay attention. It wasn’t her he was talking to.
She could feel his hot breath against her chest as he whispered into her breasts. It was pitiful, this horrified, broken state her brother so rarely entered into. It had been fourteen years since she had seen him like this. He must have been closer to this man than he was to anyone else.
She petted him absently, her hand lightly rubbing the back of his head every so often. It had been a shock, she knew, but he would survive. As painful as it was, he would recover. Still, her heart bled for him a little, even as part of her rejoiced in the loss of the man who had held her brother’s heart so possessively close to his own. Lifting a hand, she wiped the tears from her own cheeks. It was not the Colonel she grieved for. It was Ivan.
Before long, the murmured words died down and she risked a glance at him. “Ivan?” she whispered softly, not expecting a response. There was none. Whether he was asleep, or simply too lost in grief to hear, she didn’t know. She simply held him close, not caring as the hours passed and the room darkened. By the time the sun rose the next day they were both asleep, slumped together against the wall.
TO BE CONTINUED…
NOTES
упыр - “Upir” (oo-pee-r). Basically, a vampire. Traditionally in Russian mythology, they were considered to be corpses brought back via demonic possession or sorcery. The original myth was of corpses that would rise and drink the blood of their loved ones before returning to death once their loved ones were forced to join them in the afterlife.