Horror Fan Fiction ❯ Anette: Testimony of Lives ❯ Awake to Disaster ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Act Three: Awake to Disaster
In which I learn the obvious.

Someone was shaking me awake. As a child, the best I could do was swat pathetically at their hand before rolling over in bed and tucking further into the position I was made. Whoever it was was rather determined, for at that point they let out a grunt of irrirtation and shook hard on one of my shoulders.
I started awake and sunk my dull little teeth into the hand of my attacker before scrabbling away and falling off the bed and landing with a thump in a heap of messy hair and tousled sheets. I later learned from Petros that my sleeping habits were far from normal, and if I'd been given the chance, would sleep throughout the day. He thought it was funny. I did not, and made it a point to break that habit later on... Going back to my ridiculous episode..
I peeped up at the intruder through the white sheets that had wrapped around me in my hasty retreat from the hand that shook me awake. Whoever it was was still grumbling.
"Annette! For heaven's sake, wake up you lazy child!" Sister Clarance shrilled. I was no more pleased that she was. Curling up further into the sheets on the floor I ignored her grousing and tried to get back to sleep.
"Father Petros is awaiting you today! You are to be adopted."
That woke me right up. Father Petros?
"Father Petros?!" Stunned by the proclomation, I jumped up wide awake.
"Not by Father Petros you silly fool!" She laughed. "He is waiting with your adoptive parent as we speak. Come now, lets gather your things."
I raised a small brow at her happy quipping. She was rather charming today, wasn't she? As went around the room gathering what little belonged to me, I wondered what was going on. It was far too soon to be adopted in such a large ophanage, especially when there were dozens of other children by which wealthy benefactors could choose from.
"What else is there left to bring?" Came his familiar barritone. I tilted my head away from the drawer and eyed Father Petros, who was returning my stare before looking back through the drawers with renewed interest. Eyes remember. Eyes.
"J-just that trunk, Father." She stammered. "I can carry it down."
"No, Sister, allow me. A woman as lovely as yourself shouldn't burden yourself with such unsightly tasks."
"T-thank you Father." Sister Clarance said, a bright red blush blooming across her cheeks. I snorted internally. It was about that time that Father Petros went to touch the trunk and something inside my soul sprang up.
"No!" I shouted in protest, striding as menacingly as a child could to the trunk. I stood stubbornly before the Father in spite of my fear to touch him again.
Father Petros eyed me with curiosity.
"I think it would be far easier if you would just allow-"
"No!" I snipped in protest, my nose going in the air in deffiance. Somehow I felt that if he were to lay hands on this box, something detremental would happen. Something that would never be able to be repaired. And even if I didn't know just what was inside the box, I could feel that Mother had wanted to keep something prized alive and untouched before she disappeared. So there I stood, tentively guarding the trunk with my shoulders down and my chin up with the very air of confidence. Petros took a step toward me, reaching out.
"Come now, little Annette-"
I slapped his hand as hard as I could from the distance and let out an ear piercing scream of rage.
"Don't you 'little Annette' me! You cannot touch this, and I refuse to allow you to!" I proclaimed. Father Petros' blue eyes widened at first with surprise then narrowed as his smile dropped, replaced with a scowl of agitation. Sister Clarance looked completely stunned, staring between the two of us blinking.
"Annette, why do you insist on making things difficult?" He let out a huff if a sigh as he stood straight. I automatically opened my mouth and said the first thing that came to mind.
"I've always been.." I paused, suddenly thoughtful of the words I was saying, "..like..this.."
Father Petros raised a brow and looked at me with eyes that said 'Of course, you silly little imp.'
"Sister Clarance, please begin packing the bags out with Sister Joy to the Del Vwela carriage please. I will have a bit of a chat with Miss Annette." He said dismissively. Sister Clarance looked ready to protest, but thought better as she picked up the smaller suitcase and headed for the stairway. I was unnerved at the thought of being alone with that man and my priceless trunk, but I would brave it as best as I could. My eyes drifted towards the stairs as I wondered if the Sisters would hear me if I screamed.
"Annette."
He called my attention back to his face. The blue was bleeding out of his eyes again, the silver mercury returning as he frowned.
"What is so precious in this that you would hide it from me?" He asked. I pursed my lips, chewing the inside of the bottom lip. Sighing he shook his head and knelt down as he looked up at me before placing a hand on each of my shoulders.

Knelt before her, he grinned and took one of her hands in his own, sliding a ring onto her fourth finger.

I snapped back out of his grip with a sharp hiss.
"Don't touch me anymore." I ground, flopping down onto the trunk. Petros studied me, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"Why?" He reached for me again, grabbing my ankle as I shoved myself and the trunk away from him.

He kissed her quietly on the brow, holding her in his arms before dancing quietly in the midst of an enormous dark room, the marble gleaming in the light beneath them.

I kicked him with my free foot and growled at him, pushing myself closer to the window away from my bed. He smiled as he face filled with knowing.
"Does it make you remember?"
He reached for me again, snatching me away from the trunk. I could feel myself dragged into his lap as memories came rushing back. He propped his chin on my forehead as I writhed in his strong hold, not by my choice, but simply because it was so much to remember.

A white veil and a woman with steel coloured eyes, a blue-eyed Petros in a sharp, tailed tuxedo awaiting me, our first kiss at the altar, the night after our wedding, our first fight and the time we spent in sweet caresses and moans making it up to one another...

We had lived together, married one another and cherished the other's life.
"Little Annette, do you remember?" He whispered, planting a tender kiss on my cheek. "Do you remember what happened to you that terrible night? The night I lost you to those monsters?"
I was crying again. It was terribly unsightly, red puffy cheeks and tear stained eyes. For I knew that if I had lived a life with Petros, then I had lived a life before this child's body, and something had gone horrifically wrong.
"Who am I, Petros?" I sobbed. "Why am I in this body?"
Another cool sigh came as he thumbed away the dewy teardrops and wrapped his arms around me.
"I don't quite know myself. One moment you were there in that beautiful body of yours, looking as luscious as ever when you are bound, the next I see an innocent child with your hair and eyes." He murmured quietly. I snuffled for a moment.
"I am to be adopted by a family named Del Vwela?"
Petros nodded his head above me, one of his long black hairs tickling my temple.
"Don't worry, they've known the two of us for a long time, as well as what you are capable of. When I sent word last night that I'd found you, they were simply thrilled. You will be safe with them. Now about that trunk..."
I leaned out of his embrace and eyed him warily, face still blotted with tears.
"No. I don't know or understand why, but no. You cannot touch it."
He nodded before releasing me and turning my small body towards his, pulling a bright white hanky from his pocket.
"We can't have you going down looking like a mess now can we?" He said gently, drying my face and blowing cool breath over the red eyes. "I will drop you off to the house so we can continue our little talk, however I cannot leave the orphanage for another few months. I am positive the monsters have at least one creature posted on me and putting you in danger is something I shan't tolerate. Come now, lets be off. I'll send the sisters upstairs to retrieve the trunk."
"I'm watching it go down into the carriage." I insisted stubbornly. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"Leave it to you..."
Now that I had discovered Petros was a very large part of the strange life I'd led before being a child, it lead to a whole new series of questions, that I'm sure have sprung to mind. Things like, who was I, what happened to me, why did it happen to me, when did it happen, and where was I since I couldn't even remember one scene from the memories of my life with Petros. I helped another nun pull my suitcase down the stairs and waited outside, staring at the carriage that was meant to take my belongings to my new home. I watched them load my trunk inside carefully, with the enormous note I'd attached to it with my childish scrawl telling them not to touch it and mind the warning. Another wooden carriage pulled by the same chocolate velvet coloured horses pulled up and waited for me to step in. Petros grasped my hips and lifted me up into the carriage before stepping up beside me and closing the door behind us.
I glanced around and immediately noticed the unnecessary peculiarities of the carriage. The velvet seating cushions stuffed with what felt like goose feathers, the carpeted floor, the smooth clear glass in the panes that were tipped with silver.
"The finery is something you will have to re-accustom yourself to, Annette. I understand you lived with Maria Antoinette DeGarcia on the shoreline, and she was naught but a pauper." He grinned at me cheekily. Still uncomfortable with the stranger beside me I pursed my lips and looked out the window as the street began to roll, giving what few friends I'd made a short wave goodbye. I did notice the boy throw an insulting gesture my way, and decided to stick my tongue out at the offending young man.
"Annette, we must speak now that we are in private quarters." He said slowly. I glanced over my shoulder at him and turned back to the window, nodding once.
"Since you have no recollection of what happened, I suppose I will have to tell you what I know. Your name, full name, is Annette Jaqcueline Girsterre, Third Daughter of Baroness Girsterre. You were thirty-six when you left my side, twenty two when you married me, and twenty one eleven months and twenty six days when you first coupled with me." he said. I jerked my head to him at that, my lips pursed in irritation. The man was a sex-crazed maniac!
"I thought you were a holy man, Father Petros." I spat, turning back to the window to watch the cobbled streets roll by.
"Only when I wasn't with you. In fact, I was an angel, little Annette." He answered silkily. Once again I had to turn and stare at the black-haired beauty. His pale boyish face was split in a sleepy grin as two thick strands of his long dark hair framed his face.
"You aren't a normal angel, Father." I said cautiously. He nodded solemnly.
"I'm a Repentant Angel. A saved Demon, if you will."
I nodded slowly, chewing over the information as a horse whinnied somewhere beyond the carriage's walls.
"How did I come to marry you then? And before you said I had other... Abilities. What of them?"
Petros pinched my cheek roughly.
"Curious, aren't you? You married me because you are the one that saved me. An impossibility unless you have the abilities you had. You will learn of those when you return to the Del Vwela Manor." He answered.
"So I saved fallen angels?" I questioned, intrigued by the notion. He paused, seeming to think carefully.
"You do much more than save fallen angels, and that is a rarity in itself Annette. You see, you have a precious ability, something that even the most honored prophets in Old Testament history could not do. There were only a few fabled to do this, and one that actually did it."
I growled in irritation. He was mincing words and dancing around truths. I looked into his eyes to see if I could find suspicion in him, wondering if he was like the brown-haired man that attacked my mother. He stared directly back, allowing me full access to his large silver eyes. They sucked me into him, and I could see no fault in what he had said. And when I say I could see no fault, I was quite literally looking into him and seeing every shade of his thoughts. Some were gray, some were peach coloured with a tinge of pink, and what he had said had produced a white-yellow colour. I could see what you called, an aura. But this was different from what typical spiritualists and psychics see, for I could see more than just colours. When Petros had spoken, the words held colour as the came out and all of them were the white colour. He was speaking truth.
My hand moved on it's own accord, the small still growing fingers brushing back a strand of dark hair before ghosting over the priest's cheek. He captured the roving appendage and spread the fingers open, inhaling deep before kissing it tenderly and putting it back into my lap as he graced me with the same tenderness.
"One would think you would have known me forever in that motion."
My gaze was held out the window as we passed by the street lights, which were being lit as dusk began to fall over the outskirts of Rome.
"Haven't I?" I whispered to myself.