"I have something to show you; something important." That's what my faceless angel said to me. And while I slept soundly on my flight over the Atlantic, a series of memories played out inside my mind; they swirled just like a movie. But they weren't my memories… I don't know whose they were or where they came from. All I knew is that they were important- my beloved angel told me so.
Twenty-Eight Years Ago:
"Would you like to come to the hospital with me, Eric?" "Is Carla still there?" "Yes; she and the baby." His eyes narrowed profoundly. "Yes."
The two men arrived to find Carla sitting in a nursing bed, coddling the newborn infant in her arms. She smiled down at it with such warmth and love…. A kind of love she'd never looked at Eric with before.
"Awe, sweet Ana. You're such a good girl; yes, you are." Grinning himself, Ray went inside the hospital room. With one arm draped over his wife's shoulder, he put his hand on top of his tiny daughter's forehead. While they indulged the infant, Eric merely watched from the side; his arms folded and him leaning up against the doorframe. "Isn't she beautiful?" Ray asked his close friend. "Yes, beautiful…." Eric's eyes drifted onto the happy Carla while answering.
After a moment, he relaxed his shoulders and face a tad. "Maybe it's a good thing after all… giving new life to this earth; one full of hidden promises and the other unknown factors that come with it." "Would you like to hold her, "Uncle" Eric?" Carla grinned over at him. Without another word, he came over to carefully take the baby in his arms; he was much calmer around the child than her new parents. "Doesn't she look like Carla?" Ray asked. "It's too early," his eyes narrowed onto the sleeping infant. She didn't look a thing like Carla in his opinion, but there was still time….
That night, in the infant ward, while Eric's men took care of Carla- he could not bear to watch- the monster of man approached the baby girl. He stood over her cradle, watching her sleep for a long moment. "Doesn't she look like Carla?" "Carla….." He remembered to breathe. Even the mere thought of her name… That precious, precious woman- the mother of Ray's child. It was too much to bear.
The baby cooed and Eric rubbed her cheek with one of his fingers. Unconsciously, the child reached up to wrap her tiny hand around his forefinger. His eyes narrowed sharply on her peaceful face. "So, you are Ray's heir? The little princess? The one Carla gave her life for…" His lower lip quivered for a second. "I hope you're worth it," he said as he was suddenly overcome to strangle the infant in her sleep. It took all his strength to refrain. The longer he watched her, the more the bloodlust swallowed his mind. Carla… I will let you grow and develop. And hopefully, you will look just like your mother; but still forever imperfect by that Steele blood tainting your veins.
I -Christian- watched with wide eyes as the terrifying man loomed over the baby like a beast hungrily stocking its prey. And as I observed, I could hear his thoughts in my mind. My first ally was myself. When I think of it, it was a long journey- too long. My soul must have been become exhausted a long time ago. After Carla's murder, I decided to enter a voluntary mental slumber, of which I had no intentions of ever waking from. Carla was dead, there was no reason for me to remember, to recall any memories of beauty in this world. The man escaped the infant ward before Ray came running. He had blood on his shirt and was breathing heavily; he had been crying. He ran over to his daughter's cradle, inspecting it first before scooping the sleeping, now crying child into his arms. And while he wept, he held her close; as close as one could. The baby kept crying until her eyes locked onto mine. She just stared at me with now huge, curious eyes; mine growing equally as wide. Hesitantly, I stepped towards her.
"Why are you showing me this?" "I don't want you to hate my father. He's a good man."
Reaching her, my right forefinger extended for her. Just like the other man, her tiny hand wrapped tightly around it; her eyes not moving off me the entire time. She gave a little squeeze; as much as a newborn could squeeze anything. I understand…. I see now: this is Anastasia- baby Anastasia. My eyes lowered gently onto her. I knew…. I felt I'd seen those eyes somewhere before; several times. And then… My lower lip dropped slightly. For some reason, the thought came to me…. No matter what, I want to protect this source of warmth. The image of adult Anastasia with Eric's hands impending all around her flashed through my mind. I won't remember any of this when I wake up, but I know for certain what I want now.
I want to keep protecting this warmth.
I woke up in a cold sweat. A gasp erupted from my throat. W-what the hell was that? I was laying on my back in bed, with my hair all sprawled out around me. A dream… a dream with a man… a bad man; a dangerous man. He was reaching for me from behind while I was blissfully unaware. Instead I was too busy looking at another… One right in front of me, with my hand wrapped around his finger. Just like that, it was all erased from my memory. I laid there motionless for a second more, unaware of the red rose lying beside me on the other pillow.