Page 16 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Pain never leaves.

No.

When I think there’s nothing good left inside of me, I do something that is not in my nature. At least not anymore, but I do it now. I step closer to the boy and cover him from the rain with my umbrella stopping the rain from soaking him. It’s been raining non-stop for days now. It almost feels as if a storm is fast approaching and the sky is warning us.

The young boy coughs and my eyes narrow. If he’s not sick by now he will be if he spends one more night out in the rain. “Give me your eyes,” I ordered the boy gently. I am not a complete monster, at least I could never be one to him.

Never him.

It’s odd.

I don’t feel the burning rage that consumes me every hour of the day when I look at the little boy. That never happens. Aside from my sisters and Valentino, everyone else inspires absolutely nothing in me but here this kid is making my chest ache. It takes him a minute to lift his head and when he does I feel something after years of suppressing everything remotely human.

I feel something I have no business feeling. Something I swore would never happen again.

A crack in my heart.

One that doesn’t hurt.

It used to hurt once upon a very dark time but not here. Not now.

The boy’s eyes caught me off guard. That doesn’t happen often.

Those eyes remind me so much of a storm when it’s about to tear the sky apart.

They remind me of someone I once buried along with everything that hurts.

“What is your name?” I whisper-shout over the loud noise of the rain for some reason needing to know this boy’s name. I know his face but nothing else. He is a ghost. One that has seen too much. More than anyone his age ever should.

The kid stares at me as if he’s not sure whether I’m an ally or a threat.

He will soon realize I am both. Not to him. To them.

“I don’t have one.” After a long silence, he croaks, doing his best to sound tough. There’s no need for that when the same darkness that had been my ally for many years surrounds him like an invisible black cloak.

The intense pain in my chest increases when I take in his white-as-snow skin, gray bottomless eyes, and inky black hair. “If you could pick a name, any name. What would you choose?” I asked him.

The young boy thinks about it for a minute too long then those angry eyes of his meet mine and for a second, I allow myself to feel things I shouldn’t.

Things I know will never end well.

Not for me and definitely not for the boy.

“Azariel.” This time his voice is more than just a whisper. It’s strong and proud.

He looks angry, yes, but proud.

He should be proud.

Tonight, he got to choose his name.

Tomorrow he’ll find his voice and when he does… he’ll have everything.

You chose well… the inner voice whispers proudly.

I smile then.

I haven’t done that in a while.

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