Page 5 of Eternal
I just went three rounds in this underground fighting club and looked like a total mess. Bruises and scars painted across my skin, some old, some fresh. The white fabric of my t-shirt drinks deeply of the blood of my last opponent. Deadly red roses bloom on my chest and it felt almost beautiful to look at.
I can hear them, the screams in my head.
They’re so loud lately, ever since the officers called and handed me remnants of my mother’s life. I found that stupid journal she always kept. So many names scrawled in fear, as if she always knew her faith, as if she knew she’d become the shell of her being. Like me, drugged andsad.
As if she knew that they would come for us.
And tonight, right in the middle of the fight, this guy had the nerve to spit out a curse, like it wasn’t obvious how close I was to snapping. So, I almost killed him.Almost.I wanted to hold onto this high, this surge of power, the violence, the fear in his eyes, not with drugs.
But now I had to face the real world.Home.
The thought twisted my gut, because I didn’t want to go back there.
No, I had a mission tonight.
Darkness enveloped me as tears blurred my vision. I know where I want to be, I know who I want to see. I was so scared to go back there, so scared to go back to this life as if this one was better. I needed to see if he was still there, if he was still alive, if he could help me save myself.
I rev the engine and race through the streets, feeling the rush of adrenaline.
I need to know. I need justice. I needblood.
Ahead, I see the towering gates of the heavily guarded complex. I’ve always been fascinated by this since I was a kid. It’s like a fortress of steel and stone, encircled by guards in dark uniforms, yellow lights subtly illuminate the compound and I feel like I’m ten again, waiting for my mother and stepdad to come pick me up from this place.
I’ve never come back here after that night.
I think they all believe I’m dead, but I’m not, not yet.
I slow my motorcycle as I approach the gates, my gaze empty, lost in denial, lost in a grief I was never fully able to experience, because retribution will be the only phase of my sorrow.
The journal, the names, the things I’ve read… everything she had to endure, everything that killed her long before her death, everything she turned against me.
And I only skimmed the final pages.
Barely a drop of her pain, her fears, her hopes, buried beneath layers of betrayal.
And mine, too.
I can’t let her story end here, I owe it to little me to dig deeper, to unearth the truth behind every name, every secret she left behind, to understand why my mother hated me before her death.
My boots echo on the pavement as I remove my helmet, the tears have dried, mingling with the blood stains, as if it has become one with my skin.
Flowers don’t cry.
Don’t ever cry again. Stop feeling.
The guards would never let me in now, but I remember a narrow passage from my childhood. I used to play with the dogs here; Viktor always found me hiding in this very spot whenever we played hide-and-seek.
The passage remains on the complex’s backside, unguarded, visible, the hole is still full of mud, and seems carelessly overlooked by everyone.
I head to the back of the towers, where the passage still exists, my body squeezes through, and I push myself deeper into it.
I had names, the names of people who hurt my mother and my whole family.
I can finally do something.
Minutes later, I emerge breathless into the courtyard. Two Dobermans greet me, I remember them, and they seem to remember me. A faint smile breaks through my tears. They… they recognizedme.
Azra.
