Page 94 of Burdens
“Of kids?” he questioned, a perplexed expression crossing his features.
My father had a predilection for taking children under his care and shaping them into his most faithful soldiers, exploiting their innocence for his own gain.
He knew that people wouldn’t pay attention to kids. They were meant to be naive and harmless, which was why it worked so well for him.
“Some might have been under my father’s thumb for a long time. That’s where their loyalty will be lying,” I explained.
“Prisoners’ cells are in that building over there.” I pointed to the weathered structure situated on the far right.
He nodded in understanding and turned on his heels, but I called out his name again, remembering something else. “There’s this kid called Sabiri. He has a full head of curly red hair. You can’t miss him. Can you make sure he’s cared for until I get back?”
We’d only crossed paths a few times during my captivity, but every time we did, something about him nagged at my chest, like I could see the pain in my eyes reflected in his. It might be nothing, but I wanted to make sure for myself.
Ruiz gave me another curt nod and left to relay to his crew the information I’d just given him. Nassim would be dealing with the aftermath, but I wanted to make sure his men were at least aware before they received orders from their boss.
Once he was out of earshot, I turned to Jamal. “Let’s get this over with.” I led Jamal toward the front door from which we’d emerged earlier with my gun ready in case of any stragglers that needed to be taken care of.
We walked through the house that I’d never been able to call home, its walls bearing the scars of bad memories and even worse nightmares.
When we’d left town and I’d learned what my father had done, I knew I’d never come back because all I’d ever known here was loneliness and a person who I’d been supposed to look up to and who couldn’t even look at me.
My father, if one could even call him that, had always been a stranger living under the roof, only there to remind me of my shortcomings and how much he’d wished I’d never existed.
I’d be lying if I said a part of me hadn’t longed for the father I never had. But all he’d given me was the burden of his name and the scars he’d inflicted me with and tonight, I’d put a final end to it.
Tonight, I’d shatter the shackles he’d drowned me with and free myself from the years of carryinghisshortcomings as weighted guilt.
“So this is where you grew up,” Jamal said from behind me.
“Unfortunately,” I responded with a heavy sigh, reaching for the back sliding doors and pulling them open.
We stepped out into the now cool night air, a scent of smoke lingering from afar. It must be from the explosion we heard earlier while we were at the front.
My breath had caught in my throat, my stomach dropping, when I’d heard the sound of whatever it was that went off. I’d been rushing away from the scene at the front when Kai’s voice halted me in my steps, assuring me that Amalia wasn’t injured and that the blast was Nassim’s doing.
We swiftly made it to the intended building. As I reached for the handle of the heavy iron door and wrenched it open since it was already unlocked, memories of the countless times I’d been dragged, pushed, or thrown down those stairs flooded my mind.
I tried to push them away and focus on the task at hand as I descended the narrow staircase, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
But with each step that brought me closer to the cell in the basement, it felt like a path to a defining moment. One that dredged up conflicting emotions within me.
I wanted this chapter of my life to be over with. Iwantedto break free of my father’s chains. But this man, despite how cruel and abusive he’d been toward me, was still my father.
He was still my blood and killing him would be permanent.
There would be no going back after this.
I felt the feathered touches of relief whispering across my ribcage at that thought, but it didn’t erase the small ounce of guilt settled deep in my gut.
Not even the sight of my father bound and gagged to a chair in the cell that had plagued my childhood and always appeared in my mind when his name was uttered could ease it.
After a brief moment of hesitation, I took a deep breath and stepped into the cell, leaving only a few feet away between us. I’d schooled my features, making sure none of my emotions flashed across my face because if my father was fueled by one thing, it was fear.
Especially mine. He’d used to thrive on it.
My father’s hands were currently restrained behind his back with ropes, his feet tied at the front. His typically polished appearance was now completely disheveled by the earlier explosion.
The light fabric of his suit was torn and tattered in places, blackened by soot and singed from flames. His skin was smudged with ash, streaks of sweat tracking down his cheeks.
