Page 5 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

“Why would I fear them? They’re dead. We should fear the living, not the ones that rest here.” I shrug.

“The living scares you?” I watch as he puts his hands in front of him and that’s when I notice the black gloves. He’s looking more and more like a vampire. And I don’t seem to mind it. Not one bit. He hasn’t hurt me. Hasn’t kidnapped or dismembered me right here where he could easily get away with murder. Is the perfect place to bury a body.

Don’t rule it out yet… the small voice on the back of my mind whispers.

“Sometimes,” I tell him truthfully, surprising myself.

He gives me nothing. Instead, he remains quiet, looking bored once again.

“What do the stars mean?” I blurt, while pointing to his face realizing too late that my dress’s sleeve rolled up and now my scars are exposed to his eyes. Putting my arm down quickly, I roll the sleeve down but it’s too late. He already saw them. I know he did. Yet, he doesn’t say anything. He acts as if he didn’t see. As if he could care less.

Good.

He doesn’t see just like everyone else.

“My kill count,” he answers, looking straight at me. Unapologetically and unashamed.

“Kill count?” I repeat almost in a trance. His voice. His voice, even as deep and as scary as it sounds, is almost like a melody. A comforting one.

“People I’ve killed,” he replies.

I counted three stars. That’s not a lot. Maybe he hides more in other parts of his body? “Why do you have them on your face?” The stars make him look scarier. That’s for sure.

“As a reminder.” His eyes flash with something that looks a lot like anger.

“Reminder of?”

He takes a long pause and when I think he won’t answer me, he does. “That they lost their lives at my hands. That I won.”

He’s proud. That much I can tell.

I would be too.

My eyes leave the stars and I find his stare. Cold. Empty. Much like mine. “Did they deserve it?”

“Da, kid. They did.”

Da.

I guessed right.

Russian.

Then I think back to all the conversations I overheard between my father and the Volpe boss talking about the Russians. The hatred they have for them runs deep.

Is this man an enemy of my father? I wonder but don’t give it much thought. I couldn’t care less about my father’s enemies. “Did you regret it at any point?” I blurted out, forgetting all about his possible enemy status.

He shakes his head no, while his intense eyes burn a hole in my face.

My breath hitches when the intensity of his stare starts to become too much. No one has ever made me feel this exposed with just one look. No one. “One day I’ll grow up to be like you,” I whisper in awe at the same time I inch closer to him. My shoes look miniature compared to his much larger ones.

“How so?” he asks, still looking down at me with his unwavering stare.

“I’ll win against the monsters, too,” I whisper, holding his empty stare.

A look of pride crosses over his face and just as quickly it’s gone. Which is strange because this scary man doesn’t know me. Why would he feel proud? Besides, no one has ever looked at me with pride in their eyes. No one.

Thunder breaks and lightning strikes and I know it’s over. It’s time to go home. Dropping to my knees, I shove my tea set and book inside my backpack as quickly as I possibly can then I stand to my full height before the Russian. Feeling intimidated for the first time since he arrived, I sidestep him and make my way towards the cemetery exit. I need to get home before someone notices I left without my father’s permission. If someone finds out it won’t be me who pays the price for my disobedience. No, it will be my sisters.

---