Belonging

Petro doesn't say a word to me for the rest of the drive. I'm forced to busy myself by counting the threads in my oversized school skirt and the amount of trees we pass.

When the driver eventually does pull the car up to a house, my eyes widen. It's ginormous. The house itself is fenced off behind tall, menacing gates. The driver types a code I can't see in, and the gates split open, revealing a grand mansion.

The walls are white and there are windows fitted in neat, ordered lines across them. The thing that catches my eye is the balcony, held up by four supporting marble pillars that are grounded on the display of steps leading to the giant front door.

The car goes meticulously around a big fountain, over the bumpy rocks that make up the path, stopping by the steps. I look at Petro, finding that he's already getting out of the car.

It's dark outside now, and I'm tired. I grab my bag and my coat, holding them both in my arms as I say, "thank you," to the driver.

In the rear view mirror I see him snap his head over to me. His thick eyebrows knit together in confusion, and I rush to climb out. Was I not supposed to say that? Does he not like people talking to him?

I close the door, then look up at the house. It really is humongous.

"Anastasiya." Petro snaps. He's already at the door and has it open.

I rush up the steps, and he sighs before stepping inside. I step in after him, and another type of cold air greets me. A shiver wracks my body, and I frown.

Isn't home supposed to be where the heart is? This home feels like its heart was taken out and stomped on repeatedly. I had imagined that if I one day did find my forever home (which this clearly is not shaping up to be) it would wrap me up in a feeling of solidity and comfort. But this.. this isn't doing that. In fact, it's doing quite the opposite.

"Ivan!" Petro yells.

A few seconds go by before a man rounds the corner, coming out from behind the two opposing sets of spiral stairs. He has an annoyed look on his face. "What?"

"Take Anastasiya to her room." Petro says.

Ivan sighs. He has messy, wet brown hair-I'm assuming from a shower, or maybe the rain-bright blue eyes like mine and a cut on his cheek. Like Petro, he is tall but is dressed casually. He's wearing joggers, a tight grey t-shirt and a pair of black trainers. His prominent muscles stick out of the short sleeves of his simple shirt.

He shares a look with Petro before sliding his eyes down to me. "Fine, come on." He says petulantly.

He begins to walk over to the stairs, and I glance up at Petro, only to find that he's already walking off. I begin to follow behind Ivan, who doesn't wait for me.

We get to the top of the stairs and he starts to walk down the hallway. He eventually stops at a white door, then opens it.

Inside is the biggest bedroom I've ever seen and, judging by the fact there's only one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room up against the back window, I don't have to share with anybody. After seeing the size of their house I'd honestly be a little shocked if I did.

"The TV is already logged into everything. Your bathroom is through that door, and it's stocked with a good few months worth of stuff. Put your shit in those drawers, and if you need anything don't come to me." He says.

Then he leaves, walking back down the hallway. I look at his retreating figure for a moment before looking back at the room.

It's amazing. The walls are white, and the carpet is a dark, pebbly grey. The bed is adorned in light grey sheets, and across from it is a wide mahogany dresser. On top of that hanging on the wall between two floor to ceiling windows is a TV, and beside those are two identical wardrobes. Beside the bed there are two nightstands, one of which is topped with a lamp and the other with a remote on top of it. On the other side of the room, by the door leading to the bathroom there's a mahogany desk.