The Shadow's Grip • bxb [COMPLETED]

-22-

Dimitri's P.O.V.

Felix is already sleeping, his eyes closed and his chest slowly rising with every breath he takes. He looks like he doesn't have any worries, so peaceful.

I could get used to this. Us, sleeping in a bed together, actually getting some rest and not having nightmares constantly.

For some reason, I'm restless and I can't fall asleep even if I would want to.

Now, my thoughts all over the place, jumping from a normal life with Felix by my side to Harper and the past. My parents are also slipping in, their voices slowly coming back up from where I buried them deep.

And I can't help but feel like shit, remembering how I ran away from home and how I fell in love, but in vain since Harper left this world so soon.

It's almost as if I spent all my teenage years trying to please my parents, but when I finally saw a glimpse of freedom I gave it all up.

All those nights with Vasya back in Poland, sleeping god knows where and then going to school the next day or skipping.

When he first showed me how to smoke, and I coughed until I cried, my chest feeling heavy. But it was thrilling and I wanted to feel that again. So I would buy cigarettes from the pocket money my father would give me.

I didn't like smoking, I found it disgusting, but it was the only way I actually felt something. I felt as if it was the first step of my rebellion against my parents, and I should be proud.

Doing something forbidden, that would anger my parents, was my objective. I was sick of them always wearing those masks, happy faces and acting like they understand, when in reality they didn't give a shit about me.

My mom, trying her best but being caged by my asshole father. Their different views on life and what it meant to be a good son. What did they expect from me? I don't even know to this day.

I was behaved, always listened, never went against their word, but it still wasn't enough. So then why try? I gave up. I didn't have any plans for my future, so running away was the first thing I could think of.

When I turned 18 years old, that was the first thing I did. I ran away, not knowing where I'll end up. Do I regret it? Sometimes, but at that point in my life I couldn't see any other escape other than that.

If I wouldn't have run away I wouldn't have met Violet, Luna and Harper. I wouldn't have fell in love. I wouldn't have suffered. But all these things made me who I am today, and I'm happy with the outcome.

I'm not some perfect guy with his life together and the safety of a good tomorrow, but that's what I like about myself.

For me safety is the opposite of freedom. And I want freedom. I don't want to live my life in a lie like my mom and father did. They couldn't accept me because of that lie.

What about grandma? The only one I actually considered my family.

How she was always waiting for me, patiently in front of her house. She would always prepare the best deserts for me, and I would always eat until my stomach hurt. And then I would run outside and play with the other children in the village.

Children I can't even remember. Back when friendships were made with the simple exchange of names and they lasted a day.

And when it was getting dark outside, I would beg my parents to let me stay a bit more, but they would always say it's dangerous at night. I would be angry and frustrated, but all those feelings would disappear when I would see my grandmother sitting in her chair, with a cat on her lap.

She gave me the warmest hugs and would caress my hair, telling me some old story she heard from her mother when she was also a child. And I would fall asleep feeling safe and loved in her arms.

I always hated when the trees turned all shades of orange, brown and yellow because I knew autumn was coming. School was starting and I had to go back home, in Warsaw and leave Russia.

My parents had to literally drag me away from there while I was always crying and screaming. If anybody heard me back then, they probably had thought my parents were slaughtering me.

It's almost as if I can still remember all my grandma's stories, even though it happened so long ago.

I remember a story about my grandpa. I never met him, since he died very early, being only 30 years old. An unwritten rule in our family was to never talk about him since his death was too painful for my grandmother.

But from time to time, she would tell me stories about him herself. How he went to war, and how they fell in love. How he was very handsome when he was young, showing me some pictures she keeps in her closet, under all her colorful headscarves.

Once, with tears in her eyes, she told me about how she thought she wouldn't be able to go on after his death. About how the death of your lover feels as if a whole part of you was violently ripped out and your hands yearn for someone to hold. But there's nobody there to fill that empty space.

I think it's mainly thanks to her that I didn't lost my mind when I lost Harper. If she could go on then I would be able to do so too. In the days when I felt at my lowest, I would remember grandma and her honest smile.

How can somebody so overdone by life be so happy? How can she still smile? Don't the memories haunt her?

I'm only 20 years old, barely lived through life, but feel like I should just die already. Like I can't take it anymore.

I look at Felix and wonder what he thinks about life. He's also been suffocating all these years, suffering in silence, but he seems contempt and happy.

Well then what's wrong with me? How can all these people that have been hurt still go on?

What do they have that I don't?