Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
That dream was crushed within weeks of being with my twin wandering through the freezing cold and wishing for just a sip of water or warm bread, only to go home to foster parents that didn’t even care.
We used to play a game when we were hungry. I’d tell him my last meal, he’d tell me his, and the growling of our stomachs became the instrumental background to our little pretend movie of what life would be like.
To be full.
But right now, hunger was the least of my issues. Even though I was numb, my mind still told my body to appear small, to sit in the dank darkness of the corner and hug myself until it was time to strike.
And strike I would.
I would die in this small metal room with its bloody walls and constant cold. I would die, but I would fight until the bitter end.
“It’s survival,” Pace whispered one night as snow fell to the ground around us, and we warmed our hands over the bin of fire like the rest of the homeless. “It’s normal to turn into someone you don’t recognize when you want to live, Katya, and we both want to live, but let’s never forget who we are.”
A cold tear felt like it was freezing to my cheek. “Orphans? Abandoned? Unwanted? Is that who we are?”
Pace hugged me tighter, his mittens were threadbare, his nose cold as he pressed his cheek to mine. “We’re warriors.”
More tears fell. “I don’t feel strong right now, Pace.”
“Just because you don’t feel it, Katya doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
That’s what Pace would have wanted. I didn’t realize I was crying again until I noticed a small tear hit the concrete in front of me. An omen maybe, from that day, a reminder at best, that I was a warrior, even if I didn’t feel like it. I would fight. I could fight. I could fight for Pace and for me.
Maybe they had bread in Heaven? If there was a Heaven. And if not, maybe I would just finally be able to sleep and feel warm.
That would be nice.
I choked on a sob as footsteps sounded again. My stomach rolled.
So this was it.
My last few minutes on this earth would be dark. I would close my eyes, I would bite, scratch, kick—I would fight, and I would see absolute horror before my eyes were shut forever—but I would not go down without a scream.
A scream for Pace.
One for me.
And hundreds more for the people before us.
Slowly, I stood to my full height and clenched my fists. My lips were swollen from being punched, and my ankle was so swollen it was hard to walk. Everything hurt… my limbs felt too heavy to be attached to my body.
“Focus, you can do this,” I said under my breath as I closed my eyes and played the game I used to play when I was a little girl, and the screaming from the parents I couldn’t even remember got to be too much.
“Let’s play fairy tale!” Pace grabbed my hand and twirled me around twice, then giggled as we grabbed our stuffed animals and lined them up on my bed.
I danced in front of them, adjusting the crown on my head as I imagined a world where people looked at me with reverence with respect.
At such a young age, all I could process was that I wanted to be seen.
My stuffed animals, they saw me.
They were our only friends except for an older brother who wasn’t able to visit as much anymore.
And these friends, they didn’t yell.
They didn’t hit us or tell us we were worthless.
They just existed.
And they were all we had.
I twirled again in front of them and bowed.
It was the last happy memory before we were discarded from that same unhappy Family.
The metal door clicked open.
He was entering my kingdom.
My domain.
I lifted my chin and stared him down, imagining him slithering across the dirty cement floor like the snake he was. I would crush him beneath my stolen stiletto and cut out his heart.
I was a warrior. My brother said so. And I believed everything he said.
“Your spirit isn’t broken.” He chuckled, pulling off black leather gloves and slapping them against his thigh. I didn’t want to feel his hands or his skin or his anything. “Good. I’ll enjoy being the one to finally do the honor.”
“You can try,” I said in a clear voice. “But I promise you this—you will fail.”
“Tsk, tsk, you dirty little bitch. Never encourage the monster to attack, he’ll just enjoy the journey to get to the final moment a lot more, and I promise, I will enjoy breaking every inch of you, knowing where you come from.”
“Don’t insult me. You’re the one that needs me, after all. Isn’t that right? You can’t bear to handle the fact that even a girl from the streets won’t touch your pathetic little dick!” I snapped. “I hope my eyes haunt you until you breathe your last breath.” I took a step forward. “I pray to God that he lets me haunt you for every day of your life until you go insane.” Another step. “I hope your paranoia eats you alive day in and day out, that every single time you feel the wind on your face, you wonder if it’s a ghost. Know this, I will have vengeance whether it’s now or when I’m dead. So try me, little man, kill me, rape me, do whatever you’re going to do, but you don’t own me.”