Roots

By: Sarah-Laney Long

Prologue

 The Girl Who Lived

It was an eerie, silent of the early morning of the seventeenth day of July in nineteen-eighteen. Too, quiet in fact. The windows were covered with black tar, so no one could tell if it was night or day.  Somehow though, I knew that it was in the very early of the morning, perhaps around three or so. Despite the circumstances my Mama, my Papa, my three older sisters and younger brother were all fast asleep in the corner of the tiny room.  I was sure several members of the house staff that were placed a few rooms down were asleep also.  But I wasn't.  Something was going to happen at any moment, I could sense it. I just knew that today was going to change everything, and for that I knew I would not be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

My eyes shifted around the dim lit room, the only light coming from the open door which led into the secluded hall.  I began trying to still think of a way to escape this room, yet thought of nothing. It was hopeless escaping from this room; there wasn't a secret door, there wasn't a window that would open, and every door was guarded by a communist soldier, who I was sure to have been told to kill on sight if any of us were to attempt to escape.  As I stood up quietly I gathered my shoes and slowly approached the large thick wooden door where the same night guard stood, whom everyone called Bolshevik. This man was not really a man, but yet a boy who despite always having a gun in his hands, I did not come to fear like the others.  Perhaps it was because he did not have the same hint of anger, but only loyalty in his eyes. Whichever it was, he always gave me what I asked for, or tried to at least; my mind quickly remembering the moments of whispered conversations from nights past that took place between us.  Focusing back on the present, as I continued to approach him he quickly glanced to the right and left looking for the other guards, as he saw one down the hall taking a short nap against the column he relaxed a little giving me somewhat of a comforting smile.

"You are up early your Highness; you should go back to bed." He said in Russian.  My eyes glanced up at his young features; he couldn’t have been that much older than me, even though he was near Papa’s height.  His hair was a dark shade of brown that was always covered by the traditional communist hat, and the rest of his slim but well built body was covered in the normal communist soldier uniform I have seen most of my captors wear.

"Sir, please I have not slept yet, and I do not plan to tonight. Please I must go to the bathroom; I am not feeling so well." I replied, giving him a small smile of plea, knowing that the last bit was a white lie.  I only wished to stretch my legs, to get out from the dark prison. He quickly assessed my words, looking at my facial expression, and whether he believed me or not, something made him sigh just a little, giving me a slight nod.

"Ah, um well I can see if one of the guards will escort you, step back and wait here." He pointed back against the door frame as he whistled to the napping guard. 

"Brakov, come here for a second." Bolshevik said, briefly looking back at me before shifting his focus on the tired guard now walking towards us, mumbling something under his breath as he tried to stifle a yawn.  This soldier, was a good bit shorter than Bolshevik, and was slightly heavier set, yet still well built.

When he finally reached to where I was standing, the new guard, Brakov, looked down at me with pure hatred, for what I did not know, only that my surname was Romanov. 

"What do you want, you little selfish brat." Brakov looked down at me, pointing his rifle at my face. I gasped. Closing my eyes and leaning back away from it afraid that his finger might slip and pull the trigger.  I had sadly, come to expect this from this man, many times when he’d been asked to do anything that involved watching or escorting anyone within my family he’s always threatened with some sort of violence, his sick way of teasing us.

"Ummmm.....I I I I nnneeed..." I stuttered over my words, too afraid to answer like a duchess should. Gosh, if grandmamma could've seen me now. She would make me recite a whole Shakespearian sonnet three times for stuttering, like she always did to punish me, I thought silently to myself, feeling my heart racing with fear.  My back pressed against the now closed large wooden door that lead back to where my family was still currently sleeping, and as I briefly thought of them, my body began to shake and I knew now I really did need to use the bathroom.

"Comrade, put it down she’s in no way of a threat to you or I, she just needs to go to the bathroom. Will you take her? I must stand guard." Bolshevik asked, and something in his voice made me think he was slightly ordering Brakov to calm down.  I didn’t know much about who ranked what, but over the time of being held captive here, I began to realize most seemed to respect Bolshevik, most obeying what he commanded or suggested, even that he was slightly younger in age than the rest.

The look in Brakov’s eyes frighten me more, even as he lowered his rifle, it was if he was killing me here in this hallway with just his eyes.  He glanced down at my slight shaking body, and his facial features turning into an evil grin as he looked over at Bolshevik.

"No." Brakov said flatly in a monotone voice.  My eyes shot up in sadness at Brakov, this was to also be expected.  Despite whatever respect he had for Bolshevik, Brakov hated me more, and for that I knew he’d decline.

"Pppleease Sir?" I stuttered out. Stupid! Why did I just beg? Now he's really going to be mad. I cursed myself, and just as soon as the words left my lips, the pain of the consequence happened just as quick.  I winced and cried out as soon as I felt the hard smack of Brakov’s hand slapping me across the face, the result like always was that my lip was starting to bleed and I could feel the bruise of his fingers starting to form on my higher cheek.

"I said, no you filthy Romanov brat.  If you have to go so bad just go right here.  I'm not taking you, and that's final." Brakov said louder looking at Bolshevik making it perfectly clear.  My eyes lowering again, as hope of escaping my room even for a few minutes slightly died.

"Fine, well then Brakov at least watch my post as I take her." Bolshevik said with sharpness in his voice, his body more tense than a few moments before, his hands clenching in a fist over the hilt of the rifle that leaned against his hip.

"Yeah, whatever, just hurry up Bolshevik with the piece of trash. Commander will be here in exactly thirty minutes." Brakov said casually to Bolshevik, who was looking tenser by the second.

"Commander is coming here? Now at this hour? For what? Why wasn't I told of these plans?" Bolshevik asked with glaring eyes.

"God, man, weren't you paying attention earlier this evening Comrade?  Commander explained that England was planning to launch a rescue mission, if it’s not already underway.  He didn’t want the chances of those demons getting away.” He said pointing directly at me before continuing, “So, in a little over thirty minutes the task will be complete, and we can all go home afterwards.  I’ve got much better things to do than babysit these skeletons." He said just a casually as ever revealing he already saw us as being dead to him.

My heart stopped, my eyes widened...and his words echoed in my mind for what seemed to be an eternity, "the task will be complete…the task will be complete" Those words repeating over and over in my mind could only mean one thing. They were planning on killing my family today. They had been threatening it for so long, but they were actually going through with it today. God, now I really thought I was going to be sick.

My eyes lifted to the Bolshevik, who glanced down at me once, the words also registering to him, and for a brief moment I thought I could see some kind of emotion behind his eyes, and just as quickly as his eyes glanced at me, he shifted his eyes back to Brakov, his face never straying from being serious and looking like he could kill Brakov or me at any second. 

“Well I guess I should get on with it then, don’t want the Duchess to miss her date with the Devil.” He said with an evil grin at Brakov, both men laughing sinisterly before Bolshevik took my arm and roughly escorting me to the restroom. Whatever emotion that had been in his eyes before and the cruelty behind each of his words and the sound of his laugh became polar opposites of one another.  Did he really mean what he said?  Did I just imagine him looking at me like that?  I wondered as we continued to walk, grateful to the slight breeze as we walked because of feeling sick from the conversation.  I had so many emotions going through me, but I told myself not to cry. I had to be strong, I was the daughter of Tsar Nicholas Romanov II and I would not cry in front of the enemy or even this slightly more merciful soldier of the enemy, Bolshevik.

We walked in silence. Bolshevik holding my arm tightly, yet not hurting me like most did when escorting me places within the building. As we approached the door towards the bathroom he stopped me turning me to look at him, and with sad, blue eyes he just stared at me.  His fingers released their tight grip from my arm, but still continued to hold me.  I was frightened to be alone with any soldier and yet in a way I didn’t want him to let go.  I wanted to bravely ask him questions that stirred in my mind, however I knew that was completely out of the question.  I could see a war going on behind his eyes, he wanted to say something, and I could tell that the wall he had trained himself to have around anyone was slightly down. With a deep breath he gathered himself once more, and nodded me to enter.

“I’ll wait out here.  Don’t be too long, I don’t want to have to come in there after you.” He said softly, knowing he was breaking protocol.  Ever since my family and some of our staff were taken to this building to be held as prisoners, there had been some rule, a protocol, that stated that we were not to be unattended at all times.  Protocol included the bathroom. 

Walking into the bathroom, my cold shaking fingers traced the outline of the light colored marble vanity.  My eyes shifted upward, and as I looked at myself in the long mirror I just stared with emotionless eyes. In a little over thirty minutes, my family's life and mine would end. I had never imagined while growing up playing with my brother and sisters that my life would end at just the age of seventeen, and yet, it was going to.  I had to snap out of it, I would not feel sorry for myself,  I had to be strong for my siblings, even though I wasn’t the oldest, they still looked to me for guidance and strength. The other point being that there was still time. Our extended family was trying to save us, to make deals with the Communist Party and soldiers that held us captive.  From what Brakov had just said, some were already on their way. They would come through for us in time, I knew it. I just have to have some faith that we would get out of this somehow.

Finally after letting out a loud sigh, I cupped the running water from the spout and splashed some water on my face, and just as I was drying my face off with my dirty gown from sleeping on the floor, Bolshevik stormed into the bathroom with wide eyes and on a mission, and I just knew it was time for him to take me back for my execution.  I didn’t think I took that long I thought briefly to myself as I remembered what he told me before entering.

"Quick! We must hurry, there's a secret passage down the hall that I've discovered that will lead you out and I can get you to safety past the border and into French and English territory. But we must go at once!" He said quickly and almost sounded out of breath while reaching for my hand and not my arm this time.  My mind decided now of all times to take in things slowly.  Bolshevik’s eyes weren’t looking to harm me at this very second, but more like he was completely concerned, and was serious about his intentions to help me escape.  His eyes also held the truth that what he was doing meant death for being a traitor to the Communist army, if he were caught.  Even if he were to get me safely across the territory line, there’s no way to say if the governments would keep him alive because he was the enemy.  My mind quickly reeled back to his words.  Wait, what? No, not me, you mean it's time to kill me right? What about my family? Mama, Papa, Alex. No I can't leave them. I kept thinking.

"But Sir, my family, can't you save them? Please save little Alexei first and then come back for me. He's just a child." I pleaded. I couldn't leave them behind. I wouldn't! I also knew that of all people that should still live had to be Alex, he was the next in line to the throne, and of all situations I knew I had to hold true to my duty as a sister and as member of the Empire.   I looked to Bolshevik with determined eyes, knowing that my body was shaking from the thought of even trying to escape. Bolshevik looked at me with knowing eyes, he knew what I was asking.  He had thought about all this himself, I quickly assessed.  Despite being pressed for time, he calmly looked at me with eyes filled with grief.

"Your Highness, there isn't time. If I go back with you to get them, the other soldiers would kill us all. If we wait any longer they will come and look for you and still kill you. This is your moment. What is your choice? Live or die?" He said sternly, his eyes piercing into mine and I could see courage, fear, pleading, and another emotion I couldn't really describe or name.  My heart was racing; my eyes were stinging with tears wanting to form.  I knew I was hearing the truth.  Bolshevik was right, there wasn’t time to save the rest of my family.

Knowing the choice I had made, I closed my eyes and kissed them goodbye in my mind as I took his warm hand and rushed out the bathroom and down the hall as quickly and silently as possible to the passage that lead down a narrow, wooden staircase behind what looked to be a grand fireplace that had been bricked up some time ago. As we reached the bottom of the wooden staircase, Bolshevik stopped me with his arm, putting himself in front of me, as he held a finger to his mouth to silence me.  His eyes glancing back where we just came and I allowed my ears to listen closely to what was the meaning of us stopping.  I could hear the footsteps above us and the guns strapped to each of the men who marched. I could only make out a few of the muffled words, but nothing more. Were we found missing already? Where were the soldiers heading? So many questions raced throughout my mind as we just stood there not making a sound or movement.

All of a sudden, Bolshevik, grabbed my wrist and we began running down the rest of the stairs, to where I do not know, what I do know was that somehow I'm was only putting my blind faith in this one Russian communist soldier that was suppose to hate me, suppose to kill me, and yet was saving my life. I took one look back at the way that we came, the last time I'd be in the same building as my family, as we make our way through the servant quarters of the building. Rounding another hall corner we could see an orange glowing light, from a lamp from the dark outside. My heart was racing faster than before; my mind was consumed with thoughts about my family, with their fears, wondering what was happening right now up there in our royal prison chamber.  I was breathing heavily from the running and the adrenaline. I wondered if people were looking for me and I prayed to the precious Lord Above that they wouldn't know I was missing until after we were long gone. Yet, that prayer wasn't answered, for as soon as we got to the door loud whistles echoed throughout the entire building. Shouting and yelling. I knew that we had been discovered missing.

We had stopped running as soon as the loud whistles grew louder to the hallway in which we stood in. I looked up at Bolshevik, my eyes wide with fear. He looked down at me for a brief moment, with eyes that changed from being filled with worry to eyes so hard, so cold, which sent a scared shiver throughout my body.   His face became grim as he tightened his fingers around the trigger of his gun and glanced up looking back into my eyes, and then at something behind me. Then with a hard push he shoved me back away from him, pointing his gun towards me.

“You’ve run out of places to go little girl.” He said with an evil smirk.  I stared at him with hurt and betrayal eyes. So, this is it? It was all a lie? We can't escape so he's going to kill me and just say he caught me escaping? Lord, please help me. Please save me! I thought as I raised my hands, then begging him in stuttering pleas.

His eyes held the evil glare as before yet, "I'm sorry your Highness," was all he said to me in a soft voice filled with a bit of sorrow, as he pulled the trigger, and a loud gunshot echoed through the small, dark, hallway.

I bent over grabbing my stomach, expecting the pain to come any moment, or even just a quick death, but after a brief moment I realized that it never came, I wasn't ever hit.  Surely he had just shot at me I quickly traced back in my mind, and yet as I analyzed my body searching for some sort of pain, there was none.  I was alive. I quickly looked up at him, his gun was still pointing at me with smoke coming for the dark, metal, barrel; I looked behind me to see another communist Russian soldier behind me on the floor with blood coming from the small dark bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.  Dead.  He’s dead.  I quickly realized.  I had been so caught up with thinking of Bolshevik and thinking we were so close to escaping that I hadn’t heard this other soldier sneaking up behind me.

Bolshevik ran over to me, first leaning down to take the other man's gun, then grabbing my wrist firmly as he dragged me away, and heading out the door of the building.

“Don’t look anymore.” He quickly told me as he used the hilt of his gun to break through the door’s handle, allowing him to shove the door open.

“He’s dead.” I quickly stated out loud already knowing he was.

“Yes.” Was all Bolshevik said in response, and he had a tone of grief in his voice.  Had he killed before? I quickly wondered as he led me through the broken doorway, and picking up the pace as we exited the building.

Immediately as we exited the building Bolshevik shoved me down an alley behind the building that had been my prison for so many days and kept pushing me a head of him towards the railroad tracks.   Several guards had been outside, and Bolshevik took them out as if they were just children playing toy soldier.  That was the moment I knew he had held back so many times before from showing his full combat skills.  He was lethal.  The first two soldiers we came across he had taken him down with just one shot from his rife, and the second soldier, he had gotten a hold up from behind and quickly snapped his neck without hesitating.  This continued several moments, until he reached back and took hold my hand again, pulling me farther with him.

As we ran my mind quickly shifted from the darkness in front of us to the images of my family still being held captive.  My feet were protesting to the running, and though I tried to keep up with Bolshevik, I knew I was slowing us both down, still he helped pull me along.  He never let go of my hand, which I was grateful for.  My eyes finally began to take in the sight of the railroad tracks just up ahead.  Yet, I wouldn't remember ever getting to the tracks, for at that same moment that's when I heard the sounds that would echo in my mind for all eternity. Sounds that would change history. Sounds of less than a dozen of guns firing off, and the screams of my family as they were being murdered. That’s when my whole world went silent and black.

______________________________________

Author's Note: Hey Yall, I hope you enjoyed Reading! Please take a moment to click the orange VOTE button that's on the left hand side of the screen. Thanks so much for all your support.

This chapter is dedicated to one of my best friends Lauren "LaurenML45".  Thanks for helping me edit the handheld manuscript, and always being a great friend with the same love for books as me. Love yas. =)