Chapter 58: Anastasia's story
Ava's POV
"My father and brothers have been obsessed with me for as long as I can remember," Anastasia began, her voice trembling as she tried to steady her shaking hands.
Gwen reached out, gently holding Anastasia's hands in her own, offering silent support. "Her brothers were always in her business. And when I say everything, I mean everything," Gwen added, her tone thick with anger. "They couldn’t even differentiate between boy and girl."
Anastasia nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath. "When my mother was alive, she thought their behavior was cute. No matter how much I complained, no matter how uncomfortable I felt, she brushed it off. ‘You should be grateful,’ she’d say. ‘ You have a loving father and brothers who care so much about you.’ She saw their display of madness as affection and something for me to be appreciative of."
I clenched my fists as I listened. Somehow, I already knew where this story was going, and it hurt. To see someone as strong as Anastasia reveal such vulnerability was heart-wrenching.
"I’m sorry," I said softly.
Her eyes flickered toward me briefly before she continued. "When my mom finally died, they unleashed their hidden desires on me. I was twelve. Twelve years old, they took turns with me, my father one day, and my brothers the next day," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "I summoned the clan elders and told them everything. Every horrific detail. And they ignored me. Classified my words as irrelevant ranting of a girl or maybe, they did the same to their daughters. Who knows?" Anastasia shrugged her shoulders.
Gwen’s hands tightened around Anastasia’s as her shoulders started to tremble.
"The elders called a family meeting and demanded I recount my ordeal. I did every word, every disgusting truth. My father and brothers admitted to what they’d done, but they dismissed and excused it as the result of grief over losing my mother." Her laugh was bitter, hollow. "I thought that would be the end of it. But speaking out only made things worse. It gave them more power. They used my own words to control me, to strip me of any strength I had left, they made it known that no one believed me and that I should stop wasting my time. Even though I was blessed with divine powers from the deity herself, it was useless because I was battling with my mind."
I felt sick to my stomach. The injustice of it all, the blatant cruelty, mirrored the horrors of my world. It seemed some men, regardless of realm, couldn’t hide their vile desires to control and degrade women.
Somehow, I wonder if men are the problem in this world. Why wonder? They are the problem. Every single one of them. Women would be safe in the world if men didn't exist. Should I make it my life mission and just end them all? Maybe I should.
"Do you want to stop?" I asked gently, not wanting to push her further, but at the same time willing to listen if she needed to speak.
Anastasia shook her head. "My father had another obsession, books. He loved his books more than his children. However, his dawdling sons never shared his passion for books. They didn’t care for his craft." Her face turned ghostly pale, and I suddenly feared what might come next.
"What kind of books?" I asked quietly, my voice barely audible.
"The old bastard was fond of erotic books," Gwen spat out, her anger palpable. "He used to gather the older men in the clan to read them together. But that’s not all. He forced Anastasia to read them aloud to him—and act them out. Every detail in the books. Nothing was to be left out. She was to play the characters, the old men would touch on her and many more dirty things."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught, and all I could manage was a whispered, "Goddess."
How could anyone do something so horrific to their child? Now I understand why she burnt down the mansion and killed almost half of her clan. I would have done worse if I was her.
Anastasia’s face was emotionless now, but her eyes held a deep, unrelenting pain. The world saw her glamour, her strength, but they didn’t see the chaos, the suffering that had shaped her. Some people would even have called her lucky without knowing her story.
They would have told her to be grateful. Poor girl, I wanted to hug her and tell her, she did great surviving.
"I’m so sorry," I said, my voice heavy with emotion. "Why did you stay so long with them? You’re so strong, you could’ve ended them. Why didn’t you?"
Her lips twitched into a bitter smile. "I stayed because of Gwen. I met her when we were five. Even then, I hated men. I still do, regardless of the fact that there might be good men out there. By sixteen, I started having feelings for her. By twenty, I confessed. At twenty-two, my father found out." She exhaled shakily. "He always knew I cared for Gwen. Even before I did. And he used her against me, constantly threatening to hurt her if I didn't comply."
The sheer cruelty of it left me speechless.
"I’m sorry for burdening you with my sob stories," Anastasia said, glancing at me with a weak smile.
"You’re not burdening me," I replied sincerely. "It would be an honor to have you both come with me." I smiled at them, hoping to convey how much their presence would mean. Having them by my side wouldn’t just give me strength, it would keep me grounded, and maybe even hold me back when my rage threatened to consume me.
Before anyone could respond, a voice interrupted.
"Hi, Ava. Hope I'm not interrupting?"
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