Esther
I walked into the safe house. After dumping the poor hybrid girl's body into a part of the sewer that was unused I had pointed my gun a Rey blindfolded her, pugged up her ears, tied her hands, and forced her to walk over to this safe house. She hadn't resisted at all. My brother's friends would deal with her.
I pulled Rey in behind me and shut the heavy wooden door, turning all of the locks. The safe house was located under a bridge. It was in an ideal location-the middle of New Boston. The downside was that the safehouse was always dark and musty. There could be no windows due to the fact we couldn't be discovered. We were in another gang's territory, enemy ground.
I dragged Rey across the room with me, drawing her away from the door, putting space between her and escape. The room consisted only of a single chair and a bed. There was another door opposite the front entrance that led to a spare bedroom. I led Rey to the bed and sat her down tying her legs to the bedposts using some of the spare rope that I had.
"I'll get out of here," Rey whispered, her teeth chattering. I had removed her jacket on the way here. It had too much blood on it for her to have worn it all the way here without getting noticed. But I didn't care if she was cold.
She might as well get hypothermia for all I care, I thought. I checked the knots on the ropes that held Rey in place and walked into the spare bedroom. The guard that was supposed to be guarding the safehouse was asleep on the bed, huddled around a bottle. I reached into my pockets and pulled out a small flask of water. I walked over to the sleeping guard and placed my left hand underneath his chin. I noticed his robotic leg. You could see it gleaming from the little space in between his pant leg and shoe. He stirred slightly. I dumped the contents of the flask onto his head. He woke up, flailing his body, but my grip on him was strong - I had let my nails slide into him, forcing him to stay in place.
He stopped moving as soon as he saw who I was.
Caught red-handed, I thought.
"Ms. Brathe, I..." he mumbled, fear apparent on his wet face. I slipped my hand back from its place. Blood started pouring out of his cheeks.
"Get up!" I spat. "I have brought a prisoner with me, take her to my brother." The guard quickly stood up and ran to the other room, blood dripping onto the floor. I moved the bottle from the bed onto the floor. Sleep was calling me. But with sleep came dreams. And long lost memories.
_________________________________________________________
"Now, daughter," my father said. "Pay attention, you will be doing this one day too. But remember, it is not because we enjoy this. Why do we do it?"
"To uphold an image father," I had answered. We were in the cells that were located in the basement. Infront of us, in a dark and damp cell, was a filthy looking man tied to a chair. One of my father's men walked up to the man, a whip clutched in his hand.
A hand touched my shoulder.
"Esther, you cannot see this." It was my mother.
"Leave her be, Bella," my father whispered, brushing my mother's hand off of my shoulder. My mother had brown hair in contrast to my blonde hair. But while my hair came from my father, my eyes came from my mother. They were blue like hers.
"Robert!" my mother yelled. "No! She is too young! Only seven." My father kept silent and snapped his fingers. The gang member started whipping the prisoner. With every hit, the prisoner shuddered but never spoke or screamed. My mother picked me up and threw me over her shoulder. My father didn't even move.
"Mom!" I had screamed in protest, pounding my fists against her shoulder. I had thought that I had ought to see that. But the truth was my father had been slowly turning me into him. A man whose only purpose in life was to hurt.
_________________________________________________________
I woke up in a cold sweat. My father had stepped down as the gang leader and my brother had become the leader by the time I was ten. I realized just how much of a monster he had been when I was fifteen. It was when I had stayed up late in my room reading. My father had thought I had been asleep. I heard the noises. He had been hurting my mother. Beating her, whipping her. By that time she had become 'sick' and we wouldn't see her sometimes for several days. She was dead by the next spring. My brother and I had known all along what had happened. But I was the only one who had vowed vengeance, and had gotten it.
By Marizo Bheh
No comments:
Post a Comment