Act Two

XXIII

Minor mentions of choking are included in this chapter. Read at your own risk.

The word "home" can take on many meanings. A feeling, a place, a smell, or even a person. For a young woman, that sense of home has never been. What does home feel like? Moscow does not hold much significance for her besides upbringings, determination, pulled muscles, and lots of pain. Although Saint Petersburg is her new home, it isn't the exact feeling she's been trying to pinpoint her whole life. However, it seems that her sense of home resides inside the heart of another. Home is a sense of security, comfort, laughter, joy, and everything else in between. Just being in the arms of that person is enough to feel safe, like everything will turn out okay. The warmth alone against her back is enough to bring a sense of comfort to what that feeling actually is. The tight embrace releases all sorts of happy chemicals, plenty to get intoxicated from. Time freezes and it's just them. If only it could always be like that.

So, this is what home feels like.

A small nod is the only response, savoring the silence broken by the quick heart beating against her skin. The voice rises again but is stolen by a howl of the wind. Before she can even speak, the sensation of tightness around her throat cuts her off. The feeling got worse, to the point of no oxygen penetrating her lungs, not able to move beside her hands holding the other's arm. The ability to breathe was cut off so abruptly, struggling to claw out of the torture and regain a breath. The voice gently hushed her, leading her to the cold, hard cement ground. That was the last noise or feeling before the horizon shifted to a deep, lonely haze followed by a buzzing. Suddenly, there was a peaceful sense. The tight, burning throat had soothed but there was no more need to gasp for air. The little dark world did not require such a thing. Unfortunately, before the young woman could relish in the serenity, her neck felt as if it was being clawed apart, stealing her voice before she could scream.

Finally, an escape from that harsh reality was available but she nearly jumped out of her own skin in the process. When the true reality set into place and all vision was restored, the woman sighed and met the young eyes of her child. "Mama!" The girl whined and shook her shoulder, then wrapped her arms around her neck in a tight hug. "Yalusha," The woman sighed and attempted to get out of the death grip. She must have fallen asleep and upset her daughter which explained the frown on her petite, round face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to." The mother mumbled mostly to herself since the young girl could no longer hear her voice. Once the child let go, she slid off the couch and returned to sit in front of the old television which broadcasted some sort of figure skating event. The obsession seemed to come out of nowhere but the mother never questioned it.

As she sat there, anything that inflicted pain upon her neck and throat had subsided although it did feel itchy and irritated. That wasn't the first instance of a nightmare like that. They had been going on for almost the past year and they were always the same. They involved her horrible ex. She wondered if she would ever rid her mind of those awful scenes of him. Apparently not, at least, not anytime in the near future. While her gaze was fixated on the blonde head in front of the screen, a black and white picture popped up with an announcement. The next figure skater was participating in the men's singles. She knew not a lick about it but her own mother noted a fascination her grandchild held for one person in particular. Some young gentlemen from the southeast. Anytime he was shown, the girl would pause and watch in awe, not making a single sound as she absorbed the moment. As she watched from the couch, the woman brushed her fingers against the base of her neck, then released a held-in breath.

I miss your voice.

"I missed yours too." The brunette responds to the man's second statement, eyes shut as they stand in place. Once they open back and reveal the hidden hues, she tilts her head back to see his own. "(1) *Привет." She whispers, her breath showing in the cold air. "(1) *Привет." He replies, captivated by the missed beauty. "Shall we go before we freeze in place?" He suggests, arms still around her tight. "Okay. Just one more minute." The lady nods, spinning so their chests can press together. The station becomes quiet as the train has left along with the passengers it dropped off. The only occupants besides themselves are a few travelers, early for the next engine. To them, no one else fills the space, they are alone and with each other. It's only been a week yet it feels like an eternity has passed. Although being reunited, it seems that no time has passed either. The comfort he brings is still the same, nothing has changed. It feels right like it has answered all her questions.