Once Upon A Chance

Chapter Fourteen~ Olivier

Waking up a second time, I discovered Anya was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed with nothing but a sheet wrapped around her. Her body was slouched forward, head down, arms around her waist.

My first thought was to bite her. Honestly, did she even know how sexy it was, her just sitting there like that? With the sheet barely covering - and still struggling to stretch across - her entire chest, but leaving her bare back exposed...

But I got my thoughts together and slowly moved to her, wrapping my arms around her. "What's wrong, love?" I asked, trailing my lips down her neck slowly.

She tensed, taking a few seconds to relax again. "Oli, I feel insane," she said quietly. "Every time I turn around, something new is being thrown at me. I can't handle this. I can't."

I frowned, kissed her shoulder. "You can't handle what-" I stopped. Was she telling me she wanted to leave? Was she really that afraid? Of me? "Anya-"

"I love you, Oli, I do. But I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. Your mom hates me, I've supposedly lived over three hundred lives, I haven't even told Johnson-"

"Is that what this is about?" I asked, surprisingly offended. "Johnson?"

Anya paused, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear fell. "I just don't want to hurt him," she finally whispered, her voice nearly inaudible.

"You don't want to hurt him?" I yelled. "Anastasia, this guy has hurt you so bad so many times. Whether he meant to or not, it's still a terrible thing. You can't forgive him. He's a bad guy, Anya-"

She sat up straight, the sheet still covering her chest as she faced me and yelled. "I don't care how horrible he is, he doesn't deserve to be put through what I have. No one does. Do you have any idea what it's like to be so lonely in life that all you want to do is die? Do you know what it's like to be suicidal? To have scars running up and down your arms? Do you know what it feels like to have your abusive father find the scars and yell at you for not creating more? To sit there helplessly as you listen to him tell you to just kill yourself? I had three people to get me by in life, Olivier. My mom, one friend, and Johnson. My mom? She died when I was seven. My friend? She moved to Colorado. Johnson was all I had left, Olivier, and if you can't seem to process the fact that I don't like hurting people, then that's your problem. But I refuse to put people through the kind of pain that I've had to endure for nineteen fucking years."

I'd gone speechless, my mouth moving, but creating no sound. No words. Nothing. Is that what I missed these past nineteen years? Her attempts at death? Her horrible fate?

"Anya... I'm so sorry," I whispered, moving to brush the hair from her face.

Gaze on the floor, she turned her face away and shut her eyes. "Just take me home," she whispered.

Wha...? Home? Why would she want to go home? To him. To her stationary life...

To get away from me, I realized. She didn't want to be here. She was overwhelmed and needed a while. I'd take her home, but no way in hell was she going alone.

"Yeah. Alright. Okay. I'll just..." I flashed around the room, redressing to stand and exit. "Just give you a second to get ready."

I don't think she realized that I could still hear her. Once I was out, she broke down crying into the sheets, doing her best to muffle her sobs. After a few seconds, she stood and grabbed her clothes, dressing quickly. "God, Anya. You fucking idiot," she whispered. "Why can't you just be normal for a change, huh? Why do you have to hurt everyone around you? You really are the biggest waste of life ever, you screw up."

Oh, Anya. My precious Anya. What has this life done to you?

~~~~~ Three Hours Later ~~~~~

I pulled into her driveway, watching as a light flicked on in the main room. "Johnson?" I guessed.

She nodded slightly. "Thanks for driving me," she mumbled.

It was silent for a moment, both of us attempting to survive the awkwardness. "Anya," I finally whispered, "please, don't leave me. Look, you can talk to Johnson. My mom's opinion doesn't matter. You want to live outside of hell, we'll live outside of hell. The underworld doesn't have to be your home-"

"Don't make this harder than it is, Olivier. For me or for you."

Olivier? What happened to just Oli? Why wasn't she calling me Oli? Dammit, why wasn't she staying with me? This was supposed to work. She needed to see that Johnson didn't care. He wasn't coming outside or anything. I could see his shadow through the curtains, his scrawny figure slumped over on the couch, most likely drunk. He didn't care about her like I did. He didn't care at all. Why wouldn't she just leave him?

"Anya," I tried one last time. When she didn't look up from the dashboard, I gently turned her face towards mine and kissed her, our tongues tangling in their usual slow, erotic dance. She whimpered, grabbing my wrist. I gripped her face just slightly harder, bringing her closer to me.

The moment got hot. I got caught up, and I leaned in closer, pushing her up against the passenger door. Her warm breath hit my mouth as I pulled back, both of us panting heavily.

Anya bit her lower lip, kissed me one last time. "I'll be back," she whispered, opening the car door, her gaze on my mouth. "I promise."

I watched as she closed the door and walked up to the door, using the key in her back pocket to unlock the door. Johnson opened it, kissed her hard - and, yes, drooled down her chin - and tugged her inside.

She wasn't going to be alone. I'd watch her until she came back. I had to. I didn't trust Johnson, not even the slightest bit.

Oh, God, Anya, you'd better stay safe.