1. Anatasia's Here

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Chapter One
Anastasia's Point of View:

Cover by: -PAPAYA

[PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT!!!]

Three years later.

Dear Diary,

Today marks three years since the last time that I have stepped foot in Jonsville and the large amounts of overload anxiety that I was currently facing was enough to keep me away  from that town for another three years. Even though every single part of me was telling me to stay in Jakrivers, where I have created this bubble within it and keep myself safe from any attachment towards my horrid past— I knew I had to see my family. It's been way too long and they don't deserve to have to wait for another half ass excuse on why I have to miss the holidays or any other event they invite me too.

My therapist Lou told me that I am now at the mental stability to take going back and being reminded of everyone who I lost and what I lost three years ago. He told me to invite whatever feeling that comes to my body and accept it and then let it free. He told me that I was an asshole for not letting my family seen me over a particular reason I couldn't say out loud. As much as I wanted to go into another screaming match with him I knew he was right. My family doesn't deserve the shit end of the stick and I missed them more than anything in the world.

Zayn has been so concerned for me also since I told him that I was going to go down there for a couple of days. I couldn't tell if his concern was for my mental health or because of the main reason I have been avoiding that place all together. I didn't want to ask him and unleash that can of worms, not ready for us to both face that reality with one another. We were finally at a stable place in our relationship, no longer having any complications such as me going to college and him working too much. We were able to spend some time together and I wasn't read to mess it all up.

I'll end this letter here.

Love,
Anastasia.

I stare down at the white blue lined paper that was filled with ink before I fold it in three and place it into an envelope and place it into the box of letters I have been writing to myself for three years now.

I guess some habits never change.

My eyes flicker to the picture of me and Zayn and a smile reaches my lips. My eyes glowed with my lips stretched wildly with a blissful smile and his lips were on my cheeks, attempting not to smile himself as he took the picture of us right before we started arguing about him leaving me to go to work on our second year anniversary. It's odd how people would assume we were the most in love couple on the planet from this photo when we were barely hanging on by a string at the time.

I walk out of our room and my heels clap against the wooden floor in the hallway, making my presence known and I follow the sound of humming in the kitchen before I see Zayn standing by the stove with a glass of coffee in his hand.

Zayn hasn't aged much from the past three years, only thickening his beard slightly and went back to his jet black roots after years of dying it variety of colors. He wore a white button up, with black slacks, and black dress shoes, indicating to me that he was about to go to a meeting. He finally was able to become the therapist he always wanted to become, but we both didn't know how time consuming it can become.

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