Until the Last Petal Falls

“Don’t you understand?! You don’t have to live this way!! This penitence, this lifestyle—it is only your family’s influence and nothing more!! Be your own woman, Anya! Break these foolish bonds of tradition, and make your own way!!”1

Behind the thundering Ralph, the sky thundered in its own right; brightly colored sparks danced in-between the stars as fireworks exploded, highlighting Anzhela’s terrified face in alternating reds, greens, and purples. The new century had arrived.2

Ralph’s hands suddenly became gentle; one of them released its captive wrist and settled on Anzhela’s face instead, tracing a cheekbone. Ralph’s voice became naught above a whisper, barely audible in the roar of the firecrackers.3

“Do you hear them? The world celebrates tonight. It is the 1900th year of our Lord, Anya. The turn of the century. People are saying that lives will change; that a new beginning has dawned upon the Earth. What about you, Anya? What about your life? Cannot yours be susceptible to this change as well?” 4

She remained silent and wide-eyed, trapped against the wall and Ralph’s body, one of her arms still held captive by the midnight thief. A sudden burst of violet light flooded the room and accentuated the fear, sorrow, and doubt cast in Anzhela’s mind and reflected upon her features.5

Despite knowing he was terrifying the cornered aristocrat, Ralph grew irate and frustrated with the woman’s continued silence. “Cast out your damned family traditions, Anya!! Cast them away with the past century’s memories, and begin anew! Start over … with me …” Ralph pleaded, moving his hand reverently over the blonde’s sallow cheek, over her delicate throat, over that head of long, elegant hair …6

Anzhela shook, closing her eyes at Ralph’s touch. She was violently torn—the wonders of a life without bonds were so appealing to Anzhela that she ached for them … just as she was aching for the fires that were being started under Ralph’s fingertips. And yet, from the depths of her lonely soul, the voices of a thousand years of ancestry cried out and shook her very ribcage in anger. A whimper rose to her pale lips, and she was torn. Torn, torn, torn between the pain in her heart and the pleasure in her body, between a continued life chained to the Kozlov manor and a life free and meaningful with Ralph …7

She was so desperate to keep her head she was loosing it—Ralph's caresses brought with them only sinful allure—and, for the moment, she had quite enough of that already. She bit her lip, moaning slightly as Ralph brushed a sensitive spot behind her ear, causing her pale skin to flush with a heat she had never known before. Oh, what was this warmth, this utter fire that Ralph was delivering to her door? Anzhela had never felt anything quite like it—so sinful, so taboo, and yet so tempting …8

Ralph waited patiently for Anzhela’s response, occupied with other things. In fact, one could go so far as to say it didn’t matter anymore if Anya spoke or not—Ralph stared in tender awe as Anzhela’s twin suns sunk into their oceans of blonde eyelashes, blanketed by slender lids as the angel closed her eyes. He watched openly with admiration as Anya’s soft lips, tinged with the lightest shade of rose, parted slightly as she panted, overheated by Ralph’s passion. And, mainly, Ralph concentrated on pouring as much of his feelings into his ministrations as was possible, so Anya knew without a doubt exactly what he wanted.9

Anzhela, stubborn to the end, resisted Ralph’s overbearing passion just long enough to finally speak—but it was not without it’s effects, as the words were forced out on a gasp, between pants.10

“Ralph … Ralph, I can’t …”11

Ralph’s hand, halfway through Anya’s golden tresses, ceased all movement. Anya, painfully aware of what she had just lost, struggled with the tears pooling in her eyes. There was a moment, though to Anzhela it seemed another full century, of silence.12

“… Why not?” Ralph finally muttered; Anzhela winced at paradoxical tone—a mixture of hurt bewilderment and forced indifference.13

Inside her soul, the drumming of her demons began anew, and soon Anya was wincing for a different reason.14

“Ralph … please … I—“15

“Why can’t you? Why do you shy away from freedom’s door? I’m offering you a lifetime of happiness Anya—why can’t you take it?” Ralph cried desperately, his grip on the angel becoming harder again. Anzhela shook from head to toe, clutching a hand to her bosom as the hammering in her heart became more prominent; a deadly cadence struck by her diseased mind.16

“It’s them…! I see them, Ralph; I feel them! Their very essence lies in my soul, and it is a bond I can never break! Don’t you understand? You offer me false hope. Wherever I go, whatever god-forsaken corner of the earth I run to, they will follow. I will never escape them!!”17

“No … you speak with hysteria and irrationality! These demons of yours reside only in your head, Anya! They are hallucinations cast by your remorseful, estranged mind—only hallucinations!” Ralph urged, shaking the blonde’s shoulders with no amount of desperation. “You have to focus, Anya! Focus on the here and now—on me, damn it all!! Can you not see me?! I am right in front of you, Anya. Open your eyes!! See me!!”18

Ralph began his frenzied touches again; his other hand left its position around Anzhela’s wrist and began stroking slender hips and curved sides, desperate for the feeling of flesh under his fingertips. The sensations he delivered upon the reclusive angel elicited stifled moans from her pale lips, and Anzhela felt her fingers clench tightly around the fabric of the thief’s chemise. Ralph leaned in closer, woody eyes locked on Anya's hazel ones.19

At this point, Anzhela Kozlov reached her breaking point. Releasing a choked sob, she gave in to everything—to Ralph’s ministrations, to the voices of war in her head, and to the tears in her eyes. Throwing all caution to the winds, she literally hurled her arms around Ralph’s neck, and drew the startled thief down onto her impatient, waiting mouth.20

The kiss was surprisingly gentle for two beings as primal and emotional as Ralph and Anya were at that moment, equaled in passion as they were in frustration. Ralph’s eyes at first widened at the blonde’s startling show of guilelessness, but soon they closed in sweet pleasure as he began giving back what he was receiving in earnest, burying one tanned hand in silken hair as the other one wrapped firmly around a slim waist. Meanwhile, Anya’s arms had backtracked until both the thief’s cheeks were palmed in her hands, guiding the man’s mouth as it moved over hers tenderly. 21

When at last they separated, satisfyingly less primitive in their passions, Anzhela immediately slid her arms back to their proper place around the thief’s neck and laid her tired head on Ralph’s shoulder, a flush crossing her cheeks as she suddenly realized the extent of her audacity. But she needn’t have been embarrassed at all, for Ralph smiled warmly at the angel in his arms, and didn’t tarry a second to fully embrace her.22

They remained silent for a while, listening to the sounds of the fireworks and the celebrations going on outside. Happy shouts could be heard ringing from every corner and rooftop; “Prosperous New Year!! Glad tidings to all! Salutations!!”23

An arm disappeared from around his neck. Ralph, above the din of the explosions, could hear Anzhela busying herself with an unknown task, but it couldn’t hold his attention for a sufficient amount of time to be curious about it. Right now, Ralph was satiated just holding his angel, to feel the breath upon his cheek and to sense the scent that was solely the aristocrat’s filling the air about them.24

The rustlings stopped, but Anya’s arm did not replace itself.25

“Ralph … I don’t want to live this way any longer …” 26

Ralph tightened his embrace around the still form in his arms, and replied firmly, “You don’t have to.” He gently laid his head on top of the blonde’s, and rubbed comforting patterns on her back. “You can be free! All you have to do is release yourself, Anya, and only then will you be able to leave this place.”27

Anzhela looked up at him, and when their eyes met Ralph’s warmth quickly turned into chills at the look in the woman’s eyes.28

“Anya …?”29

The blonde’s eyes were a melting pot of emotions, boiling and churning until none were distinguishable from the rest. There was joy, sorrow, and fear. There was resolution, resentment, and resignation. There was love, hatred, and self-pity. And there was, above all others, freedom.30

“I can be free … you are right, Ralph. These family traditions and outdated notions of aristocracy have been my downfall throughout the years!! All this time, spent alone and in misery—the answer had been right in front of me!!” 31

Ralph looked down in growing concern at the hysterical blonde. Something was wrong! Things were not turning out like they had appeared they would, and it was frightening to watch this degeneration.32

“Anya, what is the matter? What is wrong?”33

Tears were spilling out of Anzhela’s eyes, but in her hysteria they seemed to be coming from happiness. And Ralph would have believed the Russian to be happy, had not the mad sparkle in her eye told him otherwise.34

Anzhela laughed as she sobbed; laughter so sorrowful and so crazed that Ralph began fearing that he had overestimated the state of the blonde’s mental health. He felt helpless, not knowing what to do or say that would bring his Anya back to him.35

“I’m going to be free … at long last, I have found light in this damned darkness…!! Ralph, thank you! Thank you, thank you!!” And the blonde crushed her lips to the thief’s once again, in a far more demanding and moist kiss than they had shared previously. Ralph shivered at the different sort of feelings the kiss evoked; feelings of dread and coming disaster … 36

Outside, the detonation of the fireworks reached an explosive crescendo as the finale of the New Year’s show began. One after another the firecrackers exploded in the night sky, the reverberations shaking the little study and nearly completely drowning out the sound of the gunshot that resounded throughout the room not a second later. 37

But Ralph didn’t have to hear it. There was no need—it vibrated so loudly in his chest and in his head that Ralph was forced to release his hold on the blonde, staggering backwards.38

There they stood, face-to-face; eye-to-eye. Ralph’s eyes were wide in horror, pupils dilated; his mouth was agape and his breaths came out in spasmodic gasps, a hand clutching his aching chest. Anzhela, calm-tempered and level-headed for the first time the entire night, met Ralph’s horror-struck gaze with one of determination and unrepentance. 39

Then, her head cocked to the side ever so slightly, and she blinked.40

“I … have come to realize … too late, of course, that I … I …”41

Tears ran down Ralph’s face and he clenched his chest even tighter. “W-why? A-Anya … A-Any-ya …”42

Anya’s eyes grew half-lidded, and she smiled. “I am in love with you,” she confessed airily. Ralph openly sobbed, shaking and gasping and disbelieving everything that was happening … it couldn’t be happening … not again, not after Rachel's death!43

Outside, there was thunderous applause—it was over. The last few embers of the final, colorful firework faded and died as they floated to the earth below, blown into oblivion by an unseen night wind. Ralph’s ears buzzed with deafening, roaring silence.44

And then, slowly, ever so slowly … the blonde closed her fair eyes, and her body fell.45

Roses are dead,46

Guns are gray, 47

By Death’s side I’ll wait48

For the arising of the day49

When beside me you’ll roam50

Heaven’s gold-laden streets,51

Where stay with me always52

With eternity meet53

I’ll dream so ardently54

Until that forever, glowing new55

Where you’ll smile and I’ll whisper,56

Darling, I love …57