Anastasia rolled over and opened her eyes. Sunlight shone through the windows, and she squinted as she sat up. She was surprised when her muscles didn’t scream in protest; last she remembered she had been the owner of multiple broken bones, and yet she didn’t feel any pain as she moved.
She didn’t recognize the room, but as she looked around, she saw pictures of her and Dakota. Pictures that they couldn’t possibly have taken.
Butterflies filled her stomach as she stood slowly and lifted a picture of the two of them off the dresser. They were smiling, and she was wearing a wedding dress. “What in the world?” she mumbled, setting it gently down on the dresser. She moved to the window and gasped when she recognized her old neighborhood. She was in Dakota’s parents’ house.
She looked down at her feet and saw that she was wearing her favorite pair of pajama pants. Ones that he had gotten her for Christmas when they were in high school.
“Momma!”
Anastasia turned just in time to catch a little girl who had flung herself at her. The small child gripped her leg, and Anastasia knelt.
“I'm so glad you’re awake, Momma.” Her bright face smiled, and Anastasia saw herself in the little girl’s eyes, Dakota in her goofy grin. “Daddy said that we could have pancakes this morning! Come on, he is making them now!”
Slowly and disbelievingly, Anastasia followed the small girl down the stairs. She passed pictures of the three of them smiling. Her head was spinning. Was this it? Had she died and this was her Heaven? Maybe she wasn’t being punished after all—this seemed like a pretty great place so far.
“There are my girls.” Dakota, wearing plaid pajama pants and a dark T-shirt, turned to face them. “I was wondering when you were going to get up, sleeping beauty.
“Annabelle, go and make your bed. Breakfast will be done soon.” He kissed the little girl on the cheek loudly and she turned to run off to her room.
Anastasia stood staring at Dakota. His face was clean-shaven, unlike it had been when she had seen him last. His hair was cut shorter than she remembered it, more like he had worn it when they had been in school.
She wrapped her arms around him. Even if this wasn’t real, and she really was dead, at least she got to hold him again. His arms came around her and he kissed the top of her head. She breathed deeply—he smelled like pine-scented aftershave.
After a moment she pulled away, tears filling her eyes.
“What is going on?” It was the first thing she had been able to say. Her heart ached, and her brain was insisting that none of it was real.
“What do you mean? Are you all right?” Dakota’s face grew alarmingly serious, and he set down the mixing bowl he had picked up.
“This can’t be real.”
“Ana, what’s not real?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “This, Dakota, all of this!” She gestured to the house and the pictures that hung on the walls in the kitchen.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Last night I was in a dark, cold cave. I was injured and not even sure I was alive anymore, and then this morning, I wake up here. With you, and her.” She gestured towards where Annabelle had run off to. “It can’t be real.”
Dakota shook his head slowly. “You had the nightmare again. Ana I keep telling you, if they scare you then don’t write about them. Making them come to life like that is only going to make things worse for you.” He wrapped his arms around her again and lightly kissed her forehead.
“Write about them? You mean the Brutes?” She pushed away and backed towards the wall.
“Yes, in the book you are writing.”
“No, it all happened. It’s real,” she insisted.
“No it didn’t. Come here, baby, I’ll show you.” He reached for her, and she cautiously took his hand and followed him down a hall and into a small office.
“Oh my God.” Anastasia stepped into the room and turned. The walls were littered with sketches of Brutes and of Kaley. A timeline covered an entire wall, sticky notes with different events mapped out. She leaned in closer.
“MC sacrifices herself for 2nd MC. She is captured and tortured” was written on an orange sticky note next to a sketch of a woman who looked alarmingly like Anastasia.
“Brute force attacks small village and takes captives” was written on a blue sticky note next to a drawing of a Brute.
Dakota’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You’ve been writing about them for about a year now. Your first book was a bestseller, so you dove back in ready for another. Every now and then you have these episodes where your brain mistakes the events in your book for reality.”
She turned to face him and saw the truth in his eyes. He believed everything he was telling her, didn’t that make it true?
“Daddy, the pancakes are burning!” Annabelle yelled from the kitchen.
“Oh crap!” He laughed. “Pancakes are your specialty, not mine.” He grinned at her and then turned for the kitchen.
Anastasia walked closer to the timeline board. She ran her fingers over the sticky note that read “loses love to the Brutes and goes for revenge.” Could all of that have just been a nightmare? Could what Dakota was saying be true?
“Mommy?”
She turned to see Annabelle standing in the doorway. “Hi.” She knelt in front of her and smiled softly. “What is it?”
“Do you remember me?”
Her words felt like a punch in the heart. “Of course I remember you, Annabelle! How could I ever forget such a perfect little girl?”
Annabelle smiled and wrapped her arms around Anastasia’s neck.
“Just making sure.”
She followed her daughter back into the kitchen and sat next to her at a tall dining room table. Dakota set the platter of pancakes on the center, and a plate with eggs over medium, just the way she liked them, in front of her.
“This is delicious, Daddy!” Annabelle grinned through her mouthful of scrambled eggs.
“Thank you, honey, now don’t talk with your mouth full.” He winked at her, and Annabelle giggled.
Anastasia took her first bite of pancake, and the taste exploded on her tongue. She didn’t believe she had ever tasted anything so delicious. She ate quickly and cleaned her plate, even having thirds of the brown-sugar-tasting pancakes.
Later that morning, Dakota came down the stairs dressed in scrubs. Anastasia’s mind fought the image. He had never become a doctor. It told her he is supposed to be a detective.
“I should be home from work around five.” He smiled at Anastasia and pulled her in for a kiss.
“Gross!” Annabelle laughed and made a face that had all three of them giggling.
“Okay, now, we get it.” Dakota smiled at her. “Six and going on sixteen, huh?” he asked her, and then reached for her hand.
“Bye, Mommy! I’ll see you after school. I love you so much!”
“I love you too.” She reached down to accept a hug and then watched as they walked down the driveway. If this was all just a dream, then it was one she prayed she never woke from.
Anastasia walked back into the house and took a deep breath. The scent of jasmine and vanilla filled her lungs. It smelled like home to her, just like she remembered Dakota’s house smelling. She walked to the sink and started washing the dishes. It was such a normal thing to do, and she smiled the entire time. She couldn’t remember a single time chores had been peaceful. When she had lived at Mitch and Monica’s house, she had always rushed through it, afraid Mitch would come home and she would get in trouble for any single drop of water that fell out of the sink.
She made her way back upstairs and walked down the hall and into Annabelle’s room. Pictures that Annabelle had drawn covered the walls. Pictures of her, Dakota, and the little girl each colorfully and wonderfully drawn. Anastasia stopped and lifted a picture that was on the desk. “Mommy and me” was written over the top, and Anastasia clutched it to her chest, the tears welling in her eyes. What had she done to be blessed with such an amazing family? Her brain shouted at her, telling her not to be fooled, that none of this was real, but she pushed the voice down.
She gently set the drawing back down and turned to leave the room. The mirror caught her eye, and she jumped back. In it wasn’t the reflection of the woman she was now, it was of the woman she remembered. The Anastasia who had spent the better part of her lifetime being beaten by her father only to discover he wasn’t her true father.
Before her stood a warrior. Bloody, bruised, and dirty, a sword in her hand. The Anastasia in the mirror reached for her, and she backed away. Anastasia closed her eyes and shook her head. Dakota had told her it was only a dream based on the book she was writing. As long as she continued believing that, then maybe this horrible sinking feeling in her stomach would disappear.
When she slowly opened her eyes, she was relieved to see a normal reflection looking back at her. Her face was clean and bruise-free, and she wore her pajama pants and a clean white T-shirt. She took a deep breath and headed back for the stairs. It would just take time, she told herself, time to adjust after the nightmare she had suffered. She had no idea how right she was.