This chapter has taken me about a month to write as it is INCREDIBLY INTENSE. You have been warned.
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Chapter Twenty-One
Time and Space
Mikkos stared at Alexis, Stefan, and the sleeping Sam. He would have liked to go back into the past and return the beautiful newborn to his niece's arms. He would have truly seen that she had loved her. He would have trusted that in spite of how she had lived in his home, Alexis knew how to love her baby. He would have believed her when she proclaimed her love for her baby. Witnessing the gentleness in her touch and the love evident in the way in which she spoke to the child and the way Sam responded to her, his heart overfilled with regret. He knew it might not mean much to her, but he would do anything to protect them.
- "You're very good with her."
Seated beside Stefan on the couch, with a sleeping Sam resting her head on the pillow on her lap, Alexis nodded to her Uncle. Despite how upset she was with him, she appreciated the compliment; it was perhaps the only she had ever received from the man.
- "Well, she makes it easy. She's a wonderful little girl."
He nodded in agreement. He clearly did not know anything about the child aside from what he read in the filed, and quickly refuted upon sight, but even he knew what a ray of light she was. He noticed the secret smiles she snuck to her mother as she slowly ate her pop-tart while seated on the woman's lap. She even put a smile to his face when she broke a piece of her meal to share with Alexis. It was apparent to him, who only knew her for such a short while, that she was as her mother claimed her to be.
- "I can see how much she loves you… both. She's very attached to you."
Without truly meaning to, she smiled at the man as he continued to speak kindly of the best part of her. She could not help herself; any discussion of the girl brought a smile to her face.
- "Yes, she's actually emotionally… traumatized… right now; she can't handle having me out of her sight for longer than a few minutes. I'm rarely without her or not in the same room with her. Actually—"
Alexis, feeling Stefan's hand over hers, turned to her cousin. She smiled at the man who provided both Sam and her a sense of comfort and security. Even in his silence, she could read his mind and feel the mutual desire for a creation of a safe house for them and their children away from the Cassadine influence. They were connected.
- "—she loves Stefan. If need be, and with much assurance, she'll stay with him so I can have a few moments to myself. She actually spent the day with him so that I could get some rest. He's really great with her; Sam loves spending time with him."
Stefan gave her hand a squeeze.
- "After much cajoling, that is; it's her mother, Samantha adores… and Nikolas, of course; they're very close. Me? I'm merely part of the packaged deal."
Mikkos stared at the two… Alexis and Stefan; it was quite the family the two had formed with one another. When one standing on the outside of the family's gate observed the relationship, it was normal: two cousins raised together from childhood would naturally forge a close bon and perhaps later raise their children together. However, when one who lived with the two actually witnessed their verbal and emotional mistreatment by their aunt, albeit by marriage, and mother, respectively, the physical abuse inflicted upon them by their cousin and brother, respectively, and finally the absolute… disinterest… he, Mikkos Cassadine, the family patriarch, had in them, their connection made even more sense. On whom were they supposed to lean, if not on one another? When one, with inner knowledge of the Cassadine family, apart from the façade displayed for the public viewed the utter dysfunction that existed in the palatial and enviable structure that was their home, it was no wonder that the two ostracized children would find solace in one another; they were, in fact, unloved.
- "I'm sure she loves her Uncle Stefan. I am truly sorry that she's suffering as she is; it must be uncomfortable for you, Alexis."
She took her eyes from Stefan and shifted her gaze back to her uncle.
- "What do you mean?"
He was unsure how he should respond to her, as he did not want to offend her; his words, as few as they might have been, typically had such an effect.
- "I mean that she must need quite a bit of attention. You live in a small one bedroom, one and a half bath apartment; she must infringe upon your privacy—"
She glared at the man who, in the name of preserving his own... privacy... deprived her of her identity, and memories of her parents and the life she had had with them before they died. He had no right to speak to her about the child she had begged him to allow her to keep. He had no place to comment on her daughter whom he was to ensure received a better life than he had given her. He was supposed to protect her baby; instead, she was raised in a home of filth, liquor, and beatings. Sam infringed upon nothing, but her mother's lonely and secluded life; Alexis welcomed her with open arms.
- "Unlike you, Mikkos, I'm not dismissive of my child; Sam and I have a relationship with one another. I am not raising her in the cold and insular environment that Stefan and I endured, where she would live in fear that if she stepped in the wrong direction she would be beaten or starved. My daughter knows that she is loved and that she will, no matter what, always be taken care of and fed. She is bathed, fed, spoken to, told that she is loved, held, comforted, and anything else that would ease her heart. If it means that I have to give up my bed, a few drawers, closet and living space, or privacy of any kind, I gladly do it because my kid is terrified of… of… LIFE, Mikkos. She truly is. She is so scared she—"
In order to preserve her daughter's esteem, Alexis continued on in Russian knowing that even if she were to awake, Sam would not understand that she were being spoken about, especially concerning something that embarrassed her so deeply
- "—she wets the bed when she realizes I'm not beside her, or when she's dreamt that she's been taken from me, or I from her. She has horrible nightmares almost every night. She cries if I'm out of her sight for more than a few minutes, follows me about as though were still attached by the umbilical cord, and she holds onto me, as you might have witnessed, like a leech, when she's uncomfortable. I mean, do you see her right now? Her face is buried so deeply into my stomach that I have to continuously check to make sure she's breathing."
Seeing tears roll down her cheeks as she spoke about the fears harbored in such a tiny body belonging to Samantha, with his handkerchief in hand, he leaned forward to hand it to her.
- "I didn't mean—"
She shook her head. She did not want his handkerchief. She has no desire to dry her tears to ease his discomfort and shame for all he had caused. He needed to know the pain that befell her daughter from the moment she was handed to the McCalls and the continued trauma she suffered because of it. He would never grasp the strength it took in her to not breakdown alongside her daughter as she cried herself back to sleep in the middle of the night after yet another nightmare. He would never realize the pain he had caused them both because of everything he had done and failed to do. He would never understand… and despite all of this, she could not hold it in any longer. She had to continue so that he would know.
- "My daughter is fragile and I gladly do whatever it takes to keep her whole. That's what a parent… a good parent does for his or her child. It doesn't matter how I feel. If she's upset, scared, or sad, and there's something I can do about it, but I won't just because it inconveniences me, I've failed her; I can't… won't… do that. I love her too much to ever do that. Sam does NOT infringe upon anything, Mikkos, because I willingly give her what she needs."
He, not knowing what else he could say in the matter, simply nodded his head. He knew all that she had stated was a stab at him for all that he had failed to do for not only her, but also for Stefan. As she spoke to him in a tone that he had never before heard uttered from her lips, Mikkos, although sitting on the other side of the coffee table, felt as though they were separated by a great divide. In the same way that Stefan had been her shield, it seemed to the older man, that Alexis was now returning the favor before his culprit. He was their enemy, who unbeknownst to them, had arrived to save and protect them.
- "I see."
She narrowed her eyes at the man for a moment, hating the fact that in spite of all that had transpired he remained a man of few words.
- "Now, can we get off of this subject and onto the one where you tell me what the hell you did with my baby after you ripped her from my arms?"
Stavros, dressed as dapperly as he had been that night, sat across from her. He held a cigar in one hand, while taking a sip from the glass of scotch he held in the other. Taking a moment to revel in the taste of the expensive liquor, he shook his head.
- "You're asking the wrong question, my dear."
She stared at him hoping that his father would not notice the way she held her breath in his, Stavros', presence.
- "What?"
He took yet another sip before responding with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
- "You're asking the WRONG question, Natasha. You're focused on you and me, when you should be focusing on yourself and what you are… and how that connects… US."
Seeing as she gazed at the empty chair across from her, Mikkos saw that her attention had shifted from both Stefan and him. He stared at her for a moment, noticing the color drain from her face as the fear glossed over her dark eyes; it was as though she had seen a ghost. He once again leaned forward; instead of offering her his handkerchief, he lightly tapped her knee, causing her to jump.
- "Are you alright, Alexis?"
Glancing quickly to the now empty seat where Stavros had been seated, she looked down and kissed her sleeping daughter's hand; she was grateful that her sudden movement had not awoken her. She brought her attention back to her uncle who continued to stare curiously at her.
- "I'm fine… just tired—"
Mikkos interrupted her.
- "Perhaps we should continue this conversation tomorrow?"
Stavros now stood behind the man, bending so that he could whisper directly into his father's ear. It was not as though Mikkos could even hear him, but it was not for his benefit he spoke… it was for hers. Of course the man would have liked to prolong the revelation of a secret he had spent decades hiding; it would only made him look guiltier.
- "Coward."
Alexis stared at Mikkos knowing that Stavros was right; he was a coward. He spent years keeping her entire life from her and now, he wanted another day, night, or hour. She sighed as she shook her head; she would not give him another minute.
- "No, it's okay… I need to know."
Feeling her sweaty palm connected to his, Stefan sensed the change in his cousin; he could tell that Stavros was somewhere in the room taunting her. He could feel the slight shiver run throughout her body as she attempted to fight the need to run from the room and hide in a steam-filled bathroom under a scalding shower. He needed to protect her. He needed to save her from… herself.
He leaned toward her, pressing his forehead against her temple, whispering so close that his lips nearly touched her ear.
- "Alexis, you don't have to do this tonight; we can wait until tomorrow. If you need to take a—"
She shook her head. She looked down at her daughter who, in spite of being so close to her, nevertheless held onto the bottom of her shirt. Even she, in her slumber, could sense that with any false move, Mikkos could whisk her away from her home… her mother. Alexis could not allow that to happen. She needed to hear what Mikkos had to say. She would remain strong as she did so.
Wiping the stray tears that continued to roll down her cheeks, she looked her cousin into his green eyes, his mother's eyes in color only, hoping he might hear her.
- "I said I'm fine, Stefan. I'm fine."
She gave him a pleading look, begging him to refrain from pushing her any further.
- "Please—"
Seeing him nod, she turned back to her uncle. Staring directly at Stavros as he anxiously awaited her response, she continued.
- "Mikkos, please tell me what happened to my daughter. What happened to Sam?"
Noticing his father staring at him for approval of whether or not he should answer, Stefan once again apprehensively nodded. He was not certain he should, but he also knew that Alexis would not heal unless she were told the truth. He had spent weeks watching as she slid down a slippery slop of despair over the dark past returning to reclaim her. He had him firm to her, but he could sense that he was losing his grip; the file filled with… something concerning his niece, was a devastating blow. He knew this discussion might be the final one that would completely destroy his cousin. He could not imagine the adverse impact it might have on her, but she did not care; she needed to know, in that very moment. He could not stand in her way. If need be, he would catch he if she fell.
- "Yes Father, please tell us what happened to Samantha."
Staring at the two, he did not know where to begin. There was no real way to explain such a circumstance to two people who hated him the way they did. Where could he begin? How could he tell Alexis… Natasha… that he had taken more from her than she even realized?
- "Alexis, what do you remember about your parents… your father?"
She stared at her uncle in confusion; she did not remember anything about her father. Thinking of the lies that had been told to her, how could she know anything about a man whose name she had only recently learned? She closed her eyes as she tried to think. Mikkos had lied to her the moment he… NO… no, he had told her the truth… 'I am your Uncle.' That's what he had said. And then… and then somewhere along the line, between the time in which she had cried her heart out in the hospital room not knowing who she was and where her parents were, and when she and Mikkos entered the dark and dreary estate in Greece, he transformed into her cousin; her parents were long gone and never to be spoken of again. Aside from the recent flashes of her happy life with her mother and father, she did not remember the man. How could she?
- "I… I… don't—"
She attempted to rack her brain for something that might clue her into what her uncle was or might have been looking for as a response, but she could not; there was nothing there.
- "What does he have to do with anything?"
Stavros walked about the room in clear agitation with her; everything she needed to know was in her hands, he had given it to her, but she continued to run from it. It was infuriating. He came to a stop right behind the sofa where she sat with the child and his brother.
- "Why are you not listening to him? You must listen."
Mikkos thought for a moment; he wanted to phrase his words in a way that would not cause her to shut down from him. He knew that the years in which he had shielded her, and everyone else he… he loved… grew to love… from pain, had had an opposite effect. He had not meant any harm; he simply meant for his family to move on from the horribleness that life had mistakenly given them. He only wanted to… protect them… in the only way he had known how.
- "Because your life changed the moment I took you in … and I… I should have realized it then. I should have known… and I should have done something more about it before… before it was too late."
Stavros watched her reaction to his father's words knowing that she was not listening. He could tell in her glassy eyes, and the way she continued to cradle the child close to her, shielding her from… from… herself that she was creating a new web of lies that she could spin for her when she grew older to shield her from what she actually was. But, even in death, he would have no part in this elaborate cover up. It was time the mirrors were uncovered. It was time they were all made to look at themselves for who and what they were.
- "LISTEN!"
He slammed his hands on top of the console table causing her to once again jump.
- "You HAVE to listen."
She shook her head. She whispered softly to herself hoping that neither Stefan nor Mikkos would notice that she had truly lost her mind and had begun responding aloud, in their presence, to a dead man whose living existence was only a figment of her twisted imagination.
- "No, I need to know what happened to Sam!"
Mikkos felt his heart beating hard in his chest. He had hoped he would never have to disturb the dead or reopen the past. By refraining from any discussion of the matters that harmed their hearts, he had believed that he was teach them to conquer it all. He had thought he was teaching them to become the conquerors, rather than the conquered, and the predators, rather than the prey; instead he had weakened them. He had allowed the past to eat away at the core of his family until all that remained was an empty and dark hold waiting to swallow them up.
- "It has EVERYTHING to do with Samantha."
For the very first time, a second person appeared; it was the man from her locket. It was her father, a man about whom she had created stories as a lonely child longing for some form of parental connection. He stood before her as vivid as the final time she could recall seeing him standing at the foot of the stairs, watching as she and her mother descended in their matching red dresses.
- "You're so beautiful."
- "How—"
Staring at the young woman who looked so much like his brother the day he had banished him from his life, Mikkos, mistook the her soft, yet audible, comments as responses to what he had said.
- "Your father loved you so much, Alexis."
- "I do love you… I never stopped."
Andreus slowly approached her, careful not to frighten his little girl.
- "Natty, you already know the truth. You've known it for a long time… but you won't accept it! You've seen it… felt it… cried because of it. Now you must accept it! Don't hide from it, my baby girl. Accept it."
She wiped the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. It was him. It was her father, the man she had begun to slowly remember. The man she had wished had been in her life, protecting her from the pain of her childhood since losing him. He, in the four short years that she had known him, had been her hero; and there he was standing in front of her… rescuing her.
- "Daddy—"
Mikkos nodded his head as he watched Stefan gently wiped her tears. It seemed that she was remembering the man he had once considered his best friend. He and Andreus had been ten years apart. From the moment he had been born, Mikkos took his younger brother under his wing, teaching him everything he knew about life, money, and love, and protected him from anything that might have caused him the least bit of pain. His brother meant everything to him.
- "He asked me to care for you… and I suppose… I… I… know I failed him."
Andreus knelt in front of her looking more handsome than she could have ever imagined… and yet quite familiar; she felt as though she had been staring at him all of her life.
- "I… I can't! I don't want… you're… perfect."
He looked down at the sleeping child whose face remained partially concealed; he could tell that she was beautiful. It only took looking at her mother, his daughter, to make such an assessment.
- "No, I'm not, darling."
He gently kissed Alexis on the forehead, for the first time in eighteen years.
- "Listen to me; if you want to fully let this beautiful bird into your heart, you must open all the doors and windows to it. Let her fly through the dense trees of the forest and into your arms. It's hard, I know, but you have to stop hiding, Natty. Let her find you."
She held his hand to her cheek, allowing more memories to fill within her as the tears hit his hand one by one until they became a single stream flowing from her. She missed him… not the idea of him… but him. But, staring into his eyes, she saw a darkness that she had thought characteristic of only those in whose home she had lived. It was a look she had never seen in the picture she kept close to her heart. She grew frightened of what she might learn if she listened to her uncle… and, of what she had already known, but could not bring herself to accept. Feeling him and the resurfacing of a terrible pain, worse than she had ever known, she was afraid of what lay beneath the house of cards that had been built for her… But the fear was not great enough to stop her from realizing all that she felt about the man she saw before her and all that she had deduced in the four years that she had known him: he was her father. He was her father, and that was all that mattered.
- "I love you, Daddy."
And she was his daughter. She finally belonged somewhere.
- "And I love you, my Natty."
Mikkos took a breath before speaking. He assumed Alexis was bracing herself as held her own breath. In reality, however, she knew the moment she released it, her father would be gone from her; she did not want to lose him all over again. And so she held it.
- "There's something you need to know."
She closed her eyes as she once again felt her father's lips against her forehead. The tears continued to flow as she realized that despite her efforts, he was leaving.
- "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."
Her heart was breaking.
- "Alexis."
She felt a shaking of her arm. She knew that it was Stefan shaking her back into reality, but she was reluctant to return; she wanted to remain in a time and space where this man recognized her as his, and Sam as hers, forever… even if all that meant Stavros would continue to haunt her. She wanted her father to care for her as his princess, her mother to hold her close as she did with Sam, and her daughter to continue to love and cherish in spite of the way she had come into being. She wanted the life that she should have had all along. She did not want this jigsaw puzzle of irregular pieces to disassemble and reassemble into Mikkos' version of the truth. It was not her life… not the life she and Sam deserved… but she had to nonetheless accept it.
- "Bye Daddy."
She opened her tear-filled eyes to look at her cousin whose own eyes were filled with concern for her; it was as though she were still… dreaming… daydreaming… hallucinating.
- "I'm sorry?"
Stefan reached for her face so that he could once again gently wipe the tears that had rolled down her cheeks; it seemed they would never stop. His cousin would cry lakes, rivers, and oceans before they would stop.
- "Darling, are you sure you're alright?"
She let out a sigh in agitation. She knew he could blindly see what she clearly had seen in Stavros and perhaps her father, yet she still attempted to elude him of the implosion of memories occurring within her. She had to fight to keep it all together.
- "Stefan, my goodness, I told you that I'm fine! Please stop—"
Stavros, who had remained silent in the corner as her father comforted her, chuckled mockingly at the tears she shed for him.
- "You remember, don't you? It's not little glimpses anymore, right? You remember it all… that night?"
And with that, she felt, even with Sam asleep in her arms and he across the room, his hot, liquored breath against her skin. She could smell the cologne he had worn that night, stinging her nostrils. She wanted to vomit.
- "Come on, talk to me."
She felt his cold finger run across the nape of her neck; it sent chills down her spine. 'Why are you crying, Alexandra?' She had spent weeks listening to him taunt her about the love she should not have for her daughter, having him touch her in the worst of ways all over again, but this time, in his various states of decomposition, and finally that evening, watching as he taunted her with a dead child in his arms. 'Where do you think you're going?' She felt the room spinning around her as the memories of that night continued to fill her thoughts.
- "Please… don't—"
He gently kissed her neck while Stefan continued to wipe her tears and speak softly to her.
- "Alexis, it's alright. We don't have to do this tonight."
She could feel his fingers through her hair, rubbing gently at her temples, massaging them.
- "I'm only here because you want me to be, Alexis. You didn't want to learn the truth from a man who has lied to you since day one! Instead, you wanted ME because I've NEVER lied to you, have I? I told you the truth! I told you EVERYTHING, but you… you blocked it out. But I'm here to help you again, my dear. I'm here for you… AND our baby."
This evening was different. This time, he wanted to harm her, rape her, and scar her in their presence. He wanted Mikkos and Stefan to watch as he broke her into a million unidentifiable pieces simply for the pleasure of knowing he could. He would bring his family to their knees.
- "My… my… Sam—"
He smiled widely; she caught his final words.
- "See, I'm generous, Alexis! I've told you what you wanted to hear about this child, I've made her ours. Now, it's time you do what I've wanted of you. It's time you learn why that child is poison and not worth your time. Why she would be better off… dead. It's time you learn who YOU are because but for you and your pathetic existence, that child would not exist."
Alexis felt her skin begin to crawl to the intensifying memories he caused to reemerge. She knew she needed to get out of the room quickly. She could not allow Mikkos to witness what was becoming of her because of what he had done to her and his family.
- "I… we… we need to… leave—"
Mikkos, seeing sweat begin to cover her ashen skin, quickly ran into the kitchen area to retrieve her a bottle of water.
- "Stefan, perhaps you should take—"
But the younger man needed no instruction on how to care for his family. Knowing the look of destruction in his cousin's appearance, he had already stood calmly and reached for the sleeping child.
- "Darling, why don't you allow me to put Samantha to bed?"
She, despite the fear Stavros had put into her of what he was prepared to do to her, could not bear to release Sam. She needed her daughter close. She needed the one good thing that came out of something so horrible by her side. She could not let her go… not again.
- "Um…"
Mikkos returned with the drink, but Alexis made no effort to take it; she stared only in her daughter's face as she attempted to once again block out the muffled cries of agony she had released the day she was conceived.
- "Alexis, Samantha might be—"
Stefan shook his head at his father; he had no right to presume anything about Alexis or her daughter.
- "Darling—"
He bent toward her knowing that Sam would be frightened to see the woman as she was. He once again reached for her, but Alexis held her firm to herself.
- "She'll be fine, darling; I'll simply put her down with Nikolas. Where is her bear? Hmm? Where is Danny?"
Recalling the morning's bedwetting incident, she slowly shook her head; she did not want her daughter embarrassed if she were to once again awaken from fright.
- "I think it best if I put her down in our room... I think she'll be more comfortable… all of our things are in there."
Stefan was not certain her actions wise, but he knew that in spite of her pain, Alexis always put Sam first.
- "Are you sure?"
She sadly looked him in the eyes, afraid to lose him.
- "Yes… but… can you—"
Knowing what she was asking of him, he immediately nodded.
- "Of course I can come with you."
Although feeling as though the world were spinning around her, she composed herself enough to carefully stand and lift her sleeping daughter into her arms; the girl immediately buried her face into her mother's neck and clung to her shirt. Mikkos noticed the act.
- "She knows it's you."
Stavros stood by bedroom door with a wide smile on his face.
- "It is you. Everything is about you, Alexis."
She nodded before quietly leaving the room.
"I'm pregnant." She held the bar of soap so tightly into her hands that it appeared it might melt to her touch. She let the scalding water hit her as she scrubbed her body in the shower. With every drop of water that hit the top of her head, she felt as though her head might explode with the thoughts swirling within it. "That's… wonderful." It was like a slow and agonizing death for the woman as she had long ago allowed… forced… such memories to be forgotten. "No, it isn't, Mikkos. I can't do it again… I won't! I won't have another child… certainly not this—" She had placed them onto a high dusty shelf in the back of her mind with the unwanted gifts she had received at various points in her life; in doing so, she had hoped that they would never to be discovered or resurface in anyway. "You will! It'll be our child. Stavros needs someone to play with, Helena. It's not normal for a young boy to spend all his time with his mother." Unfortunately, one such trinket, a cheap one, that she had believed had broken soon after it came into being, had merely been sold at a thrift sale. "Don't you DARE talk about what is and is not normal for Stavros! He is MY son! I will dictate what's right and is not right for him. This child is not… and you know it, Mikkos! I don't want it." And now, while the buyer rested her filthy head on the pillow of her suite couch, the trinket found its way back onto her already burdened shelf… "Regardless of anything, Layna—"… breaking it.
She looked down at the bar of soap that had slipped from her hands and onto the shower floor dissolving away in the heat of the water. "Don't you dare say it—" As she bent to pick it up, she wondered why everything in her life did not simply melt away as easily. "—the child is an innocent."
Flashback
Holding her son's hand, she stepped off the plane and walked confidently toward the gate's entrance where her father stood waiting for her. She had called him the night before telling him that she had had enough; she was leaving her husband and that child she had had but a month earlier. Although she could tell that he was not pleased with her decision, she also knew that he would never turn her down; he knew the toll her pregnancy had taken on her.
She had hated every minute of it. In fact, for every morning she awoke with the child still moving about within her, she wished it dead. She had hoped that like her precious Sofie, one morning she would be rushed to the hospital only to be told that she had lost yet another baby… except this time, she would not shed a tear. She would not cry for a child she had begged her husband to allow her abort. She would not cry for a child whose very existence would continue to remind her what was wrong with her marriage and the man her husband had become.
- "Do you see him, Stavvy? Do you see Grandfather Cristoff?"
The little boy nodded his head as they walked down the corridor toward the man.
- "I see him, Mama."
But, it did not work out that way… things never worked out the way that she would have liked. Instead, he was born healthy with ten fingers and ten toes, light eyes that would undoubtedly take the green color of hers, and dark brown hair that appeared lighter than that of the silky black hair that was on her Stavros' head. She was able to admit that the child was beautiful, but she wanted nothing to do with it. She did not want to look at him, hold him, and certainly nurse him. She wanted nothing to do with it. He was to belong to her husband and she could not spend another night in that house.
- "Papa—"
Upon reaching the handsome gentleman, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and never let go, but she could not. She was a married woman with a child to look after; she needed to be a good example for her young son. And so she stood solemnly holding the boy's hand in her own; she longingly smiled at the man in whom she trusted her life.
- "Thank you for allowing me to return."
Cristoff pulled the woman into his arms and gave his daughter a kiss on either cheek. He had never seen his daughter look as run-down and haggardly as she did in that moment. He knew the pregnancy had been long and difficult, but it had clearly taken its toll on her; this was not his Helly.
- "I'm worried about you, darling. I could not very well refuse you when I can see how much pain you are in."
He wanted to remind her that his allowance of her return to him was not permanent, but merely temporary so that she could heal, however he knew it was neither the time nor the place for such a reminder. She needed him to be there for her as her father, not as her timekeeper. He gently passed his hand along her cheekbone hoping to see some glimmer of the strong and ferocious daughter he had raised and always known. This shell of a woman broken into pieces by her husband's selfishness, ego, and pride was not the same person he had proudly walked down the aisle some years prior. She had disappeared and he was willing to fight to have her returned to him.
- "How was the flight? It wasn't too difficult with this little one, was it?"
Helena bent to kiss her son on the cheek. He was the glue that kept her together during such a difficult period in her life. Although she knew she should not rely on the three year old, she did. He spent every waking hour by her side, assuring her, just in his presence, of a time when her husband was not such a stranger to her, but a man who would have walked through heaven and hell just to spare her a moment's grief. It seemed that somewhere along the way, he left her in hell to fend for herself.
- "Oh Papa! Stavvy was wonderful, as usual. Isn't that right, darling?"
Cristoff looked down at the tall three year old standing beside her. He could tell that the boy, with his already exhibited air of superiority, was watching his every move. Stavros, tightly holding his mother's hand while keeping the other balled into a fist at his side, was prepared to strike his grandfather if he caused a single tear to be shed from his mother's eyes. Looking at the child, the man could tell that he had witnessed more of Helena's pain and sorrow than he should have; it appeared to be quite the cross the young boy bore on his shoulders.
- "Hello Stavros."
Although, he would have liked to embrace his grandson, Cristoff did not trust the child's calm demeanor; he was known for his temper. His daughter had told him about times in the recent past in which the boy attacked his father after he had had an argument with her. He had displayed a level of anger issues that Cristoff was certain would lead to trouble as he grew older if it was not curbed. He had attempted on numerous occasions to inform his daughter of this fact, but the woman continued to evade the truth; she saw him only as her young prince, capable of doing no wrong. The man, in viewing the child before him, knew different. As a result, rather than risk harm to himself whereas he would have disciplined his grandson appropriately in front of his mother, the man patted Stavros on the head as he would have done an animal on the street.
- "You've grown so much since I last saw you, Stavros. You look like quite the young gentleman. Are you taking good care of your mama?"
The boy eyed his grandfather from top to bottom before looking to his mother for assurance that, unlike his father, this man would not cause her heartache. Upon an assuring, he turned his attention back to the man.
- "Yes, Grandfather."
For a child of such a tender age, Stavros was well-developed. He looked, at three years old, like a child of five, but spoke like one of six. Already reading, he fluently understood and spoke Greek and Russian. Great things were expected of such a gifted young boy.
- "That's a good boy."
Helena was quite proud of her son whom everyone, due to his prematurity at birth, believed would be delayed. She had known better; attention and love was all he had needed.
- "My little prince is, as always, an absolute treasure, Father. He's wonderful with his mama."
With the handsome smile he had inherited from his grandfather, the boy looked at his mother. He had sensed a change in her demeanor from the moment they had stepped off the plane. Unlike her recent behavior, she was happy and smiling, something he could not remember her doing in some time. It was clear to him, even at his tender age, that such a change in temperament was attributable to the distance from his father and the new baby toward whom he had previously felt jealousy. If this were to be the reaction in his mother from being with her father, the boy knew it best that they remained where they were.
- "Are we going to be living with you Grandfather?"
Cristoff, feeling a twinge of guilt at knowing he would not give the boy an affirmative answer, knelt before the child so that he might stare into his beautiful eyes.
- "Well—"
However, his daughter intervened. With tears in her eyes, she looked at her father as he had hesitated to speak; she knew, even if he did not say otherwise, that he would and could not keep her. Despite whatever anger she felt towards her husband, he would have her return; if not for Mikkos, but for the child she left behind. As much as she would have liked to abandon them both, he could not enable such an act; she was a grown woman with a family of her own. Regardless of how much he would have loved to intercede on her behalf, she had to fight her own battles. Knowing this, she turned the boy away from his grandfather so that she could be his mother.
- "Stavvy, my love, no. You and Mama are only here for… for… a little while."
And her heart broke with every syllable uttered from her lips.
End of Flashback
Helena, freshly showered, made-up and dressed in the black and red suit she wore to her son's funeral six years prior, stood at the couch gazing at the woman whose greed had contributed to her current predicament.
- "Evelyn."
The woman drunkard who, in the six weeks she had spent in prison had learned to sleep lightly, immediately awakened at the sound of her name. She looked at the clock; it read 2:57a. She scowled at her dressed sister who now walked about the room turning on the lights.
- "I could've sworn you told me you'd let me sleep. What do you want?"
Not caring that she was once again disturbing the woman, Helena quickly found a pair of jeans a shirt; she threw them at her.
- "Get up. We're leaving."
With Stefan by her side, Alexis walked into the room holding a sleeping Sam in her arms. She stopped just shy of the bed, unable to move; the room was no longer the one she had occupied but two hours prior. The bed, with its chocolate colored silk sheets, a beautiful cream duvet, and throw pillows of a variety of colors and patterns, was not the one on which she and her daughter had previously slept. "So, you say I'm nothing to you?" The room, all aglow with candles as though awaiting an enamored pair of lovers, was the same in which, seven short years earlier, he had raped her.
- "I… I… can't. This isn't… this isn't right."
Stefan looked about the room; it still contained her duffle bags spilling of her daughter and her clothing and, from what he could see, boxes of PopTarts and canned food. The bed aside from the obviously slept-on pillows, disheveled sheets, and the teddy bear that sat in its center awaiting its owner's return, was just as it had should have been; there was nothing out of the ordinary… that he could see. "So, if Stefan is like a brother to you, how do you see me?" He passed his hand along her back, failing to notice the look of terror on her face his gesture had caused. He moved to the bed and pulled back the sheets.
- "Sweetheart, it's fine."
As though to reassure her further, he pulled back the sheets and ran his hand along the bed. He smiled at her when he discovered nothing on which to report.
- "There's nothing here."
But, the room remained the same. The bed remained pristine and extravagant, and there he stood pointing to it, inviting her in.
- "I suppose it's time I changed that."
She held more tightly onto the girl, not knowing of what other sick deeds Stavros was capable.
- "You can't have her."
He sat on the bed taking yet another sip of his drink.
- "I don't want her. SHE, my dear, is nothing. I want you."
And then he was gone.
- "Come, I believe Samantha might be more comfortable here, than in your arms."
Hearing Stefan's voice, she blinked; she was once again standing in the room he had allowed her and her daughter to stay in until she found a new apartment. She stared at the bed, amazed at the trick her eyes had played on her. She knew it would get only worse. She could feel Stavros continuing to prepare himself to strike at any unsuspecting moment.
- "I'm falling apart, Stefan—"
Feeling his heart breaking for her, he stood in front of her. He soothingly rubbed her arms, holding her and Sam close, as a sob escaped from her lips. He could see the terror that filled within her over everything she already knew and things she wanted to know about her life, and most importantly her daughter's mysterious past; it was eating her alive. He could hear the despair in her voice at the thought that she might become so destroyed by all that his father had to tell her that she might be unable to care for her child. He could see it all. But he would be damned if he allowed it to ruin her.
- "Not on my watch, darling."
Without asking for her permission, he gently and easily lifted the sleeping child from her fatigued arms. Sam, sensing the shift, awakened long enough to notice it was in her Cousin Stefan's safe arms she was placed, before returning to her slumber. Feeling the child's head resting comfortably on his shoulder and her secured grip on his shirt, he gave her mother a tender kiss on her tear-filled cheek.
- "I've got you both, Alexis. There's never a moment you need to worry about that. I'm holding onto you, and I'm not letting go."
She watched as he carefully and expertly tucked her daughter into the bed, prying her tiny fingers from his shirt before placing Danny into her arms.
- "How wonderful he is with her."
Her heart quickly beat in her chest at the feeling of his hot breath, once again, hitting the back of her neck causing the hair to rise. She gasped in shock. He had appeared behind her, running his hands underneath her shirt, circling his fingers along her breasts.
- "Oh, my Alexandra—"
She let out a cry as he kicked her hard in the back of her legs.
- "Why are you doing this?"
At the sound of her cry, Stefan quickly turned from his niece to find Alexis collapsing to the floor. He quickly ran to her, catching her before she hurt herself.
- "Alexis, are you alright? It's me; it's Stefan."
Feeling his arms around her, but mistaking them for that of her assailant, she quickly crawled away from him and into a corner of the room as far from him as she could escape.
- "Not again! Please don't hurt me, please!"
Moving to wear she protectively held her knees against her body, Stefan quickly put his hands up; he did not want to frighten her any further. Although he wanted to shake her from whatever conscious nightmare in which she had become consumed, he knew that it would not release her from her inner torture. It would continue until it killed her. It was time she fought it; she had to conquer the demons from which she had spent years hiding.
- "Alexis, listen to me; you have to fight him! Let him know that he can't make you his victim again. You've moved on from what he did you. Darling—"
He quickly stood and pointed to Sam, who had miraculously continued to sleep.
- "Look at your daughter! Look at her! She needs you, Alexis! You fight for her! Don't you DARE let that bastard defeat you… don't you dare!"
She looked at her… she looked for her in the slightly messy room they shared, but it had transformed. The candles were once again alit, but where the bed had been empty that night, Samantha… her daughter… the child for whom she lived and breathed, now slept.
- "Oh God—"
Stavros stood before her with his pants already removed; he was ready for her.
- "Alexandra, do you REALLY feel that I'm nothing to you? I mean, you've been living off of my family's dime for years, being fed the finest meals, having the best clothes placed on your back, and finally, being sent to the best schools, and you have the nerve to tell me that I'm not ANYTHING to you? Surely you don't think my family would have done any of this for you if you had not been SOMETHING to us. No, I'm more to you than you even realize… or at least I will be."
She shook as he approached her and finally flinched at his touch.
- "Please, don't—"
It was Stefan.
- "Alexis, I swear to you, darling, that I would neither harm you, nor allow anyone to do the same to you; I hope you know this."
Pinning her against the wall, and holding her in place by her neck, he tore her clothes from her sweaty body.
- "You'll learn that I'm not NOTHING, Alexandra. I am SO much more than that."
And then he roughly entered her, holding her face in his hands as he did so, bringing it close to his own with each thrust; he wanted to stare her directly into the eyes.
- "I am EVERYTHING you love, Alexandra. EVERYTHING."
She felt as though she could not breathe, as though the house of cards that had built for her and called her life was beginning to collapse with each rough thrust he made. Brick by brick, it fell apart, crashing into her body, bruising her, shattering all of her beliefs and creations. Everything around her became a haze blurred between what was true and what was false… she was not sure to what life she belonged… or even if she were still part of a life… or hell.
- "Please—"
He grew frustrated as she refused to make eye contact with him. He roughly shook her, slamming her head against the hard floor.
- "You LOOK at me! Don't you DARE turn away! LOOK AT ME!"
Watching as she shook like a leaf to his touch, Stefan knew to what level his dead brother had brought her. While he could see her before him, somehow, the ghost had managed to keep her lost within herself… himself… a combination of the two and far from all she knew and loved. He gently held her face, willing her to match his tear-filled green eyes to her dark brown pair. For the first time, he felt as though he might not be able to save her from this demon. He felt a sense of desperation fill him, terrified that she might not only lose the battle, but also the war. He could not lose her.
- "Cousin, look at me… please."
Stavros smiled when she finally lifted her heavy eyes and locked them with his own. He continued to thrust within her ensuring that she read every thought and emotion he conveyed through their matching dark pupils. They shared more than a child… more than a family… they shared lines of blood that would forever connect them. He was not nothing… And he did not ever want her to allow another to allow her to forget that.
- "Do you see?"
Exiting her, he released her face for a moment in order to show her the switchblade he now had in his possession.
- "Nooo—"
Her eyes widened and she released a gut-wrenching sob. He had her exactly where he had wanted her.
- "Dear Cousin Alexandra, I want you to always remember this…. remember who you are… remember your roots."
He stuffed his sock into her mouth causing her to gag. Knowing that she would nevertheless attempt to scream, he pointed to the bed where her daughter slept, he put the blade to his lips.
- "Shhh… you don't want to wake her, do you?"
Stefan, pulling her into his arms, felt the blood drain from her body as each carving was made in her skin. He attempted to hold her as she sobbed, but with as much force as she could muster in spite of the horrible pain she felt as her skin was shallowly cut open, she pushed him away from her.
- "Don't TOUCH me!"
Struggling to stagger away from him, she blinked to rid her eyes of the tears that blinded her. She could not see anything. She felt as though she were drowning, but felt all the same as though her skin were on fire. She ripped at the clothing that somehow found their way back onto her, but clung to the wounds on her stomach and back. Tearing at her flesh as she attempted to remove them.
- "I… I… can't… I can't breathe!"
Wanting nothing more than to help the woman, but knowing that his actions were useless, Stefan sobbed helplessly from the corner where he sat.
- "Alexis, FIGHT! Please, FIGHT!"
He watched as she tore her clothing off not caring that he was frozen in his spot watching. He attempted to cover his face when she had removed every stitch of clothing and she found herself hypnotized in front of the mirror, but something significant caught his eye as he witnessed his cousin becoming undone before him.
- "Alexis, what the hell is that?"
But she did not hear him. She did not see him. She saw only herself, fifteen years old and alone in that large hotel room with blood running down her legs, stomach, and back. She stared at herself. She wanted to run her fingers along the wounds, but the blood made it impossible. She stared at it, turning so that she could see as it continued along her back. Feeling that her legs might soon give out on her, she attempted to reflect upon all Stavros had said and all he had done. She allowed his words to play and replay in her mind until… until… it made sense. It all made sense. She heard a sound at the doorway. There he stood, the creator of the house, in shock.
- "Alexis—"
She shook her head. There would be no more lies, no fabrications and elaborations of the truth; it was there stained on and beneath her skin… in blood.
- "I know—"
Stefan noticed the man standing in the doorway. He wanted nothing more than to strangle him for setting into motion a path of destruction meant only for his beloved cousin, but she needed him first. He stood and walked toward her. He grabbed the throw blanket that rested at the foot of the bed; he needed to shield her from any further pain.
- "Darling—"
Feeling lightheaded, she blinked as she once again looked about the room until she met his approaching gaze.
- "My… my… Stefan."
She stared at him for some time tracing the scar with her finger as the tears continued to fall from her eyes.
- "I… I'm—"
Getting a closer look at her, he gasped as he removed her hand from her stomach. He stared at her, turning her around so that he could continue viewing the terrible scarring on her slender body.
- "What did he do to you, Alexis? What does this mean? Do you know?"
Before she could respond however, a whimper was heard from the bed; her daughter had awoken. Turning to look at her, Alexis could see that the girl shook in her spot, almost afraid to move a muscle, as she stared at her. Returning the little girl's gaze, she weakly smiled.
- "You are not a monster…"
Feeling as though her final effort would take all of her energy, she held onto his shirt. She stared him in the eyes.
- "Stefan."
Her body, exhausted from carrying a heavy burden, gave out; she broke, in front of her daughter, her uncle, and finally him, into a million pieces.
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