Page 10 of Whispers of Fire

I walk directly to the stairs, then to my bathroom. There’s no point fighting it, I know my parents will do it no matter what. My mother is kneeling on the ground, her hand in the tub.

“It’s ready,” she says, as if I was going to enter it to relax myself after a long day.

I remove my wool jacket painfully, seeing the state of my fingers leaving crimson drops on the brown fabric, and let it fall on the ground. My eyes look at the emptiness of my reality and I kneel next to her waiting for my father. His heavy footsteps echo in my back, carrying the threat of my upcoming torture.

He fists my hair with his hand, enough to make me wince. “Daughter, your actions have gathered our household. Today’s punishment is not made to break you but to mold you into a stronger vessel, one that can navigate the path of the Ascension. You must embrace the challenge to reach enlightenment. Let this be a reminder of the consequences of your behavior.”

What kind of man talks like that to his child?

I wonder if other girls out there have the same life in the outside world. Is it really normal to be drowned by your own parents?

Suddenly, my head is pushed into the water, my hair sticking to my face like sand on a wet body. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and I try as hard as I can to stop myself from fighting my parents with my free arms. As each second passes, I count them in my mind like petals on a flower that never cease to grow.

One minute.

I can’t breathe; my fingers are throbbing, making it hard to focus on my breathing. I can’t think anymore. I’m too tired and I stupidly forgot to relax my body to conserve oxygen.

Two minutes.

I try to count, but the numbers get confusing, disappearing into one another each time I try to find my thread back. I push the tub with my arms as hard as I can, trying to get away from it. But someone else grabs my hands and attaches them behind my back, making me cry from the pain of my bloodied fingers.

I’m going to die, I can feel it.

It’s been too long. The water starts running inside my nostrils, leaving me drowsy and suddenly heavy. A voice talks to me. It seems far away, so far.

Father?

His tone is calm, as if he has all the time in the world. I grab onto life listening to his voice. I can’t hear him, but I feel the intention behind his words.

This was all a mistake. I should have known better.

My mind drifts into a space of acceptance and submission.

This is all for my own good. I am a faithful lamb and I must be punished for wandering off the sacred path. If this is what I get for doubting our community, then perhaps I made a mistake. My parents love me, they would never try to do something voluntarily hurtful.

Right?

Just when my body starts to let it go, consenting to death and welcoming it with open arms, the hand pulls my head out of the water. I mustn't be reacting quick enough because someone slaps my cheek, yelling at me. I open my eyes, dazzled by the harsh lighting, my body heavier than ever, my hair sticking to my face.

I made it.

They carry me to my bedroom where my father lays me down on my bed, still wet and dizzy. Narrowing my eyes on them, I see my mom putting a bowl of soup on my nightstand before retreating to the hallway. My father stands for a second on my doorframe.

Is he satisfied? Does he wish I had died in there?

Perhaps I did, when I lost the fight and accepted my fate. Perhaps a small part of me was relieved, to finally leave this life, this burden that has become my reality.

Exhausted, I drift into sleep, picturing my stranger holding me in his massive, tattooed arms, protecting me from the darkness.

Chapter 3

Vox

"So, you really don’t know anything about it, right?" says Ares, sitting in front of the leader of the Iron Celts of Chicago, tied up in the club basement. It’s fucking late and I just want to be done with this fucker.

"I swear, Ares, fuck, it was a trap! I didn’t know shit; it was Nero, I’m sure of it," yells Connor O’brian, begging for us to spare his life and not skin him alive like the traitor he is.

"I see." Ares stands up and walks to the toolbox we always keep in the back corner of the room. Connor can’t see him anymore and starts to beg, his eyes full of fear.

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