Second Chances

Chapter 9: Relive the Past (Part 1)

So, hi. This is part one of Chapter 9, because Chapter 9 is freaking ENORMOUS. Like, this part alone is almost 11,000 words (I'M SO SORRY). But, I've fucking loved writing this. It's a bunch of big moments from Anastasia's history. This part is a little bit sad and angsty at some points, but, oh, mes amours, you haven't even SEEN the next part of Chapter 9. THAT'S WHERE IT GETS PURE ANGST WITH A LITTLE BIT OF FLUFF IN BETWEEN. Oh, I'm so excited to post the angsty part of Chapter 9. Working hard over here. ANYWAY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Warnings: Abuse, Slave ownership, foul language (more than usual), and Nathaniel Reama is even more of a piece of shit than Nathan Reama

Much Love, Krissy

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I hold the violin up and place it on my shoulder, holding it with half of my cheek. I lift my bow and position my other hand against the strings, before slowly starting to play. I let the music take me, guide me into a new world of bliss and tranquility. I close my eyes and let myself fall into it. Falling...Falling...Falling. Memories flood into my mind, and suddenly I remember everything.

Many, Many Flashbacks:

I creep down the stairs, seeing my mother stepping out the door.

"Mère (Mother)?" I call softly. She stops and looks over at where I stand on the stairs. She smiles softly in the darkness, walking quietly over to me.

"What are you doing awake so late, mon cher? You should be asleep," she whispers. I tilt my head at her.

"Where are you going?" I ask quietly. She smiles at me and taps my nose.

"You needn't worry about that, petit (little one)," she says, "go back up to bed." I nod and quietly sneak back up the stairs. I look back only once, when I hear the door open and close, but do not think further about it. It is simply adult business.

I wince as my father whips one of our slaves. It's a boy, around my age. All he had done was smile at me. I look up at my mother, who isn't watching the exchange.

"Mother, he did not do a thing wrong," I say softly. She looks down at me and nods, putting a hand atop my head.

"I know, darling," she says. I glance back at my father and the slave boy.

"Why is father hurting him?" I ask, voice sounding something like a whimper. My mother sighs.

"It is just the way things are," she says, before softly adding, "though, I wish that it was not." I don't respond to her quieter statement, but it sticks in my mind. As does the boy. I run the thought through my mind over and over again. He did nothing except smile at me, and my father had hurt him. I don't understand.

Later, I return to the fields, without my parents. I look around, searching for the boy. There. I look around before walking over to him. I clear my throat, and he jumps and looks up at me.

"I-I'm sorry miss, I didn't mean to," he says as soon as he sees me. I shake my head, once again looking around before drawing closer to him. I'm sure my father would hit me for what I'm about to do, but I will make sure he never knows. I gently take the boy's hand in both of mine, watching him with the sincerest look I know.

"I'm so sorry for what my father did to you," I say, tears welling up in my eyes. He looks shocked at what I've just said, and the other slaves look up from their work. I see a slash mark on his cheek, and wince at the way it sticks out of his skin, a blistering color. I offer him a soft and apologetic smile.