faded

26.0 - dream sequence

an - this chapter should clear a lot of things up for anyone who's confused. also if my readers could recommend some fucked up stories for me to read, i would appreciate it!

"I don't understand."

Harry made his way to her and sat on the bed. His hands fiddled nervously, his leg shaking. He had wanted to speak to her with the truth, like he always had, but some things could easily be misunderstood and that was the last thing he wanted.

"I think I always did regret not stealing you from him when I could," the man chuckled, "he'd say you were not well behaved, I'd kinda laugh."

Anastasia looked at him, almost starry eyed. She let herself relax and stopped picking at her nails.

"No one deserves this treatment from anyone, no one deserves to be scared," Harry looked at her longingly, "You are something different and beautiful, not someone's property or someone's excuse."

She appeared to be stunned at first, not exactly knowing what to say. She knew somehow Harry had always been there, though she never took the time to really notice. She felt herself begin to feel warmth in her chest, a serenity she hadn't felt in a long time. Anastasia truly felt lucky in that moment, to have found someone who was so willing to risk all of this for her, just to ensure she'd be okay.

She did what seemed natural and hugged him. He felt cold and very distant at first, but moments later she felt his arms wrap around her tightly. She felt safe for once, she felt like everything was gonna be fine.

"I don't even know how I can reply to that."

They hugged for a few more moments and when they parted, Harry found himself specifically drawn to her face. He swept a piece of hair away from her eyes, allowing himself to look at her for more than a few moments. Before he had allowed himself to steal glances at her, but this was different. He was learning her features by heart just in case something went wrong and he never saw her again.

Anything could go wrong. Sure, it all seemed okay now, but eventually Zayn would return from the UK looking for the girl he had very easily abandoned.

It had always been easy for him to lie to people. He knew she would be vulnerable after what she had witnessed him do to her father right in front of her, fearing that if she made the wrong move, that would be her.

Anastasia was still very confused about that day. A lot of things were unclear. She knew they had gone to the hospital, she knew she had been giving different types of drugs. But one pill in particular had messed up any hopes she had in remembering.

Truthfully it had not been Harry, but one of Zayn's associates. It was so easy for him to convince her it was him due to her drugged state, her ability to recognize anyone was shot to shit when Zayn began to give her drugs in her food and drinks. It didn't help that she was drinking as well. The months that followed seemed to make matters worse. Anastasia thought that if she got away from him, everything would change. Day after day - she struggled with getting off the drugs she was using and fought to control her drinking. She thought it was a coping mechanism, to an extent it was, but she was already addicted to the pills unknowingly.

"The whole purpose of this is to find you a good place to be. That's all I want, I think we deserve that after everything we've been through."

Anastasia nodded, confident enough to put her hand on his knee. "I just fear the inevitable. Not knowing what's gonna happen is slowly making me afraid to go to sleep."

Harry understood, though his fear was different from hers. "No reason to be afraid. You have to believe everything will be okay and not psych yourself out."

"You're probably right, I'm overthinking. What's the plan then?" Anastasia asked, feeling slightly better.

"We wait until Saturday, we're going to a place I have in Berlin."

"Why are we going all the way over there?" She asked in a worried tone.
Harry bit his lip. "I left word at your house that you had skipped off to California. Zayn wouldn't dare go look for you in Berlin, he has a lot of enemies there."

Ana looked somewhat surprised, she didn't think he had enemies. It seemed to her like everyone was afraid of Zayn, she wasn't the exception either. Harry's statement left her wondering... Just how many enemies and why?

Harry picked up on her mood change. He suspected it was because she was afraid of going into uncharted territory and out of the country, but at this point in time he knew it was for the best.

He tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, you'll love Berlin. You won't be cooped in a hotel room and you can wander around all you'd like."

She smiled. "Maybe it's best, yeah. You're right. I've never been there before, I think feeling free will do me a lot of good."

"I think so, too."

------

Everything was crimson.

It seemed like the walls enclosed around me were made out of my own insides, the various scarlet shades mixing together like assorted party gelatin made me want to empty my stomach on that flesh colored floor.

I couldn't tell if I was lying on a bed or a cot. It didn't make a difference, as I lay there not able to move without my own bones betraying me by crunching, an ungodly sound to match the sharp pain that I inflicted on myself with my own movement.

I knew I was in the apartment. I could tell by the broken frames that hung on the wall, familiar frames I had once been thrown against. It seems like I can feel that glass in my back like a dagger, but it is too late for me to simply reach in with my fumbling fingers and take it out, it's become a part of my spine.

"I never thought it coincidental that your name and the word euthanasia were so similar."

I hear his voice, though I can't feel him close to me. Fear is a very bizarre thing. How can I be terrorized by someone who is so far away? How can this feeling - like a boa constrictor wrapping around my neck - attack me whenever he decides it should? It begins so slowly, gently almost, at first I just struggle to breathe on that cot. But as I wiggle around and try to stand, my cracking bones heighten my fear. I cannot move.

I cannot fucking move.

Euthanasia - mercy killing, assisted suicide.

I don't hear his footsteps, but I feel his eyes. I know he's close because I can smell the cigarette he's smoking, I can smell his cologne, but masked under that, I can smell blood.

"You've not changed," he simply states, coming into my view.

Zayn hovers over me like a ghost, his solemn expression puzzling. He comes closer to me, the back of his hand caressed my cheek, only two words leaving his lips.

They sound like dirty words, but he disguises them as prayers.

"Euthanasia, Anastasia."