December 5, 1914
Catherine Palace, St. Petersburg
Prologue
We were happy. My family and I, Anastasia Romanov. We were loved by all. Or so we thought. How foolish it all is, you trust a person then, they turn on you. I have one word to say, Father Grigori. Our family trusted him, except for the few people. My family ruled the Russian Empire for over 300 years. But because of one man, one powerful man, that all changed.
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“Tweet-tweet.” The birds woke me up, which was pleasant in my case. I looked outside and saw the sun peeking through the clouds. Six o’clock already? I grunted as I rubbed my blue eyes. Rolling out of the camp cot, I whispered to my sister, “Marie, Marie get up!” “I am awake, Anya.” She pushed the covers back and got up. Marie went over to the ivory vanity mirror hutch and picked up her silver hairbrush. I sat in bed to stay warm for as long as I could before Barness Buxehoven came in to help us dress. We soon would need to visit momma to pick out what we were going to wear for the day. Marie and I heard a car honk announcing the arrival of a visitor, Father Grigori.
“He must have come to see momma and help Alexei.” Marie suggested. My brother, Alexei was a hemophiliac and had recently had an attack of the ‘illness’. We had been poking fun at each other and he had fallen. His knee was the size of an orange. “I don’t like how he looks at us.” I suggested with a shiver. “He sees right through you. Piercing your body.” I told Marie.
Father Grigori had been helping us for a few months but he was momma’s confidante nonetheless. He was strange. He barely washed his hair which was greasy, including caked with food and dirt, in his beard. Father Grigori had atrocious manners at the table. He picked his nose and would wipe his mouth with his sleeve. Momma told us that the reason he looks how he does is to show that he is humble.
“He is a good man. Just look what he has done for Alexei.” She replied, gesturing out of the window, to the man who got out of the black automobile, wearing a long black outfit. He walked slowly to the door. Again, I shivered. I did not know why but, always had a bad feeling when he was near. No matter how much he showed to be good.
Once we had rushed getting ready, we made our way into Papas study to see him for breakfast. There sat Father Grigori, sitting by momma who looked like she had had a rough night. Her eyes were glazed over and had a little hint of bags underneath them, but she was decked out in a beautiful gown. Her hair put up in piles arranged neatly by my sister Olga. Tatiana and Olga were already at the tea table. They were dressed in matching outfits of blue dresses. On the tea table there were biscuits and the samovar, which had swans and bears dancing on it. Father was dressed in his green military uniform. He would have been in a peasant shirt and casual clothes if we had not had company. The conversation was awkward. My sisters and I just sat there, munching on our biscuits and quietly sipping our tea. Father Grigori on the other hand, slurped and actually burped once! The sight was grotesque. Once finished I asked to be excused and rushed off the visit Alexei.
Dialogue
