Anya had been depressed for the past few weeks. It happened every so often, but it had never been this bad. Stress had been weighing on her mind and wearing her down for a while, and had triggered some of her anxieties, depression and nightmares.
She hadn't been sleeping, barely having anything more than water in her system when she left her room.
Patryk had tried to talk to her, trying to reason with her, but it didn't help.
She didn't want to take pills to lessen the stress or to help her sleep due to pure stubbornness. Anya hated doctors. A hatred her parents had instilled in her mind at a young age until it was nearly phobia levels. Yanov was the only medic who she let near her wounds without snapping at him, but not even he could convince her to seek professional help.
The build up of emotions left her restless, and even if she managed to fall asleep, she started to wake up terrified from a stress and anxiety infused nightmare. They'd sometimes get woken up at night, her horrified screams echoing in the halls like an alarm.
She had minor cases alot, some worse than others, some easier to handle. When it was bad, the stress made her vomit if she ate too much or too fast. When the nightmares got to her, she could barely focus during the day, she was so tired. Sometimes she would tear up but would quickly swallow her tears and sobs. Tord would watch as she tried to hold it in, going back to work, like the thoughts in her head weren't eating her alive.
Yuu had mentioned it wasn't good for her to bottle it up like that. Crying helped relieve stress, but Anya would instead force a smile, and the mask she was usually so good at hiding behind would show it's growing cracks.
Tord did his best to put her at ease when things started eating at her. It was when he saw her suffering that he realized just how much he had grown fond of her. Before she had been fun, a type of personal stress relief for him outside of work. But when he admitted it had become more than that, she was always on his mind. It became painful to watch her suffer. He wasn't a doctor though, he didn't know what to do. How could he help her?
He knew the root cause though.
Her parents.
It was always her parents. They had always been the reason she was so messed up, and why she ran away to join the army, just to have some stability in her life. Unlike the doctors who didn't question why she had been so thin as a child, or why she came to them bruised, or the teachers who never noticed her suffering in school.
The army noticed, Tord noticed, and they cared. To enter the service, you had to be healthy to a degree, and atleast afterwards they made sure you were eating enough, and taking the right meds if you got injured and needed them so you could continue training. That was mroe care they her parents had ever shown.
The two of them had a vaguely described relationship off and on for awhile, it had been one sided for longer than Tord wanted to admit on his part. It had gone on long enough for Tord to notice her periods of depression and the nightmares as a pattern alined with suble triggers. She never seemed to have nightmares about the storms of gun fire, the harsh training, or even bootcamp trauma some cadets suffered. All the nightmares that plagued her, and the depression that weighed on her, was always, because of her parents and her years of torment that made her so fagile and volitial behind that mask.
After a night together, he'd sometimes hear her mumble in her sleep, and her body would twitch as she started sweating if they were really bad. He didn't like how it started to bother him more and more. If he brought it up the next morning, Anya would get this cold look in her eyes, as if she had filled herself with icewater, it would chill a person to the bone. She didn't like talking about her homelife, not school, or even her childhood. Tord had only managed to find out about the neglect she suffered when she was too drunk to know her left from her right.
She had been in pain for years.
The woman hardly ever shared her issues willingly, that made it worst, it felt like a lack of trust, a wall that was hard to bring down. She acted like it was something to be ashamed of and to hide away. That let the feelings build and fester like an infected wound, till it wore her mental state down into exhaustion. Anya had a way of looking pitiful, melting a persons heart like butter, even when their relationship was purely for his enjoyment, Tord hated seeing her like that when she was at her worst. Anya was a genuinely sweet woman. She brought him comfort when he needed it, and she warmed his heart. Now his heart felt tight when he looked at her in her worn out state, knowing fully well, he was one of the reasons she was so stressed, and so tired.
When she didn’t come out for lunch that day, Tord went to her room to check on her. She would at least come out to nibble on something before hiding away again. When he found her silently crying at the edge of her bed, he knew she had finally been brought to her limit.
Her hair was a mess, and her blue eyes were foggy with dark circles under them. She needed to sleep.
“Min Rose…” the man called in a soft tone as he quickly made his way to her, “Are you alright…?” he asked as he gently cupped his lovers tear stained face, to make her look at him, it was a stupid quiestion. Ofcourse she wasn’t alright.
The russian woman looked at him, and her tears became bigger as they streamed down her flustered, red face. She was far from ok. She must have been so tired. Kneeling down beside her, hushing her gently as he leaned his forehead against her’s, Tord bushed his thumbs over her cheek bones, wiping away the tears, “It’s ok Min Rose…” she didn’t wail. She just cried letting out broken sobs, tears falling like hot salty rain. “I’m here…” he tried to comfort her by pulling her close, and holding her tight. “I’m here…” he hushed again. Anya was a big woman, yet as he held her, she felt so tiny and fragile.
He felt her wrap her arms tightly around him, as her hands clung to his shirt desperately as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her cries became muffled. Her body trembled in his embrace like she was about to shatter like glass. She was finally letting it all out though. Her tears were washing away the stress slowly. She mumbled curses and complaints, spitting venom, switching between russian and broken english, her voice muffled, and most of her words hard to make out. But she was letting it all out.
Tord was sure she'd feel much better later...
“It’s ok… just let it all out...” he hushed, stroking her head gently. He wanted to see her smile again.
Her face always had a permanently sad look, but to him, when she smiled-
She was radiant. When she was truely happy, she had a glow about her, and her eyes twinkled like stars, at least to him she was absolutely gorgeous. When he fell for her, Anya seemed to become the most beautiful woman in the world to him.
As she started to calm down, he whispered just how much he loved her. He kissed her face, and stroked her back as she relaxed against him. Gently, he pulled out the hair tie that was holding her messy braid together, before tucking her into the army standard bed. They sometimes shared a room at the makeshift base the group had put together, so it was no surprise the room was so dull and “standard”. At times like this, he wished she could be lulled to sleep in a better, more personalized room.
The only color was the dark pink wool sweater she got for her birthday, which had been carefully and neatly folded and placed on her dresser. It was accompanied by her other hair tie, and a colorful coffee mug labeled "I Needee Moar Coffee". The presents seemed to glow against the dull colors, they were cheap, simple things, but Anya treated them like gold, even when she crumbled. As Tord set the second hair tie down with its pair, he really looked at the room around them. It was the room which she had lived in for nearly a year at that point. There were no pictures up, the blankets and covers were dull muted colors, she didn't even have any kind of small knicknack, only the gifts she had been given during her birthday. The room was more like a cell she was locked in, rather than a room she lived in. It was depressing.
The others had decorated their rooms at least a bit, with things they liked, Tord wondered why Anya hadn't done the same. She liked the gifts, so she obviously enjoyed at least a bit of color, surely personalizing the room more would be more comfortable. When he returned to her side, watching her sleep, he wonder if he could get her something nice to help the room feel more like home.
Maybe something pink. Tord remembered how cute Anya looked in her sweater. Pink suited her. It was a softer, more tender color, that made her look warm and happy when she wore it.
At the moment, all he could do for her now was to also place his jacket over her tired form as she slowly breathed, having given into exhaustion, and he studied her tired features. They didn't have the funds for anything fancy, but women liked nice things right? Going out to nice places to eat, having nice clothes, or things that helped doll themselves up. Anya had never worn makeup to his knowlege, she grew up with very little, so maybe she'd like to have something nice for once. All his past girlfriends liked those kind of things after, and he wanted to see her happy again. Like she had been on her brithday when they gave her all those simple gifts.
Someday soon, he hoped to give her all she needed and more, he wanted to spoil her, so she could forget her troubles, and sleep peacefully.
“Good night, min Rose…” he hushed one more time, kissing her head.
Someday soon.
He’d have the world, and he’d give it to her.
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