Page 50 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Out of all the places I could go, I ended up here.

And just like the last time I was here, there she is.

The tiny girl with eyes the color of dark honey and the empty expression on her pretty face.

She’s here sitting in the same spot, right in front of an unkept gravestone, dressed in black and a cello in her tiny hands. Her ratty old backpack sits next to her and on the grass, there are two teacups. One for her and the other I don’t quite know. Fuck… how sad.

I stand back and look at the odd child and wonder if life has gotten better for her. I still recall the words I told her the first time we met. Has she raised hell? Is she fighting back? Does the living still scare her? I wonder about all of this as I look at her. Unlike last time, she doesn’t sense me and turns my way.

I stand back just staring at the girl and for some reason I think of Mikhail. Pain like nothing I ever felt hits me when I think of my baby brother. My mind goes to a dark place but then the sweetest melody breaks through my thoughts as she begins to play.

I don’t recognize the melody yet the sound calms the rage inside and lessens the pain in my heart until all I feel is peace. I never had that before until today. Peace. It’s always been a war.

Watching the girl, I reach inside my pocket feeling for the tiny figurine there. The Trojan horse figurine that used to belong to my baby brother. The Trojan horse is a symbol of war. It means the downfall of an enemy. It’s fitting, really.

With the figurine in hand, I walk closer trying to get a better look of the girl. From this close I’m able to see her face clearer. She still looks the same as the last time I saw her. The only difference is that this time she has a black eye and busted up lip. Yet there’s no trace of tears in her face. No sadness. Nothing.

It’s frightening how cold she looks but at the same time so peaceful while playing her instrument. How rare.

I don’t know for how long I have stood there just listening to her lovely melodies letting the music wash away the painful memories of the past. I lose track of time and when the music stops that’s when I’m forced out of my head and realize the girl has picked up her old and dirty backpack and is quickly exiting the cemetery through the back gate.

As I watch her leave I think to myself that I’ve never seen someone so young look so empty but so strong. I also think about what the future holds for her. The child of one of my family’s many enemies.

Kadra Parisi.

The first time we met she gave me her name and omitted her last but she didn’t need to. I knew who she was before she even told me her name. There’s nothing I can’t find on the Internet and because her family is one of the three elites of this city, her photo popped up when I did a quick search. I remember thinking how different she looked from her older sister who was blonde and the perfect picture of mafia royalty whereas the girl in black looked like the black sheep of the family. She looked nothing like that cockroach Parisi.

Walking toward her spot, I place the Trojan horse on top of the gravestone. Maybe she’ll find it or maybe she won’t, still I leave the only thing that I have left of my brother for the girl with war in her eyes to find.

Then I left and didn’t think of Detroit again, not until the next year but the melody the girl so sweetly played on her cello stayed with me and calmed my soul whenever I waged war.

* * *

Even when everything was against her she didn’t break. When cruel men made her life a living hell she fought. Even now she is still fighting and that’s why I’m here now. She went through hell and now it’s time she met heaven.

Fairy tales were never really her thing but just like her sisters she’s going to get it.

She’s going to get everything good and beautiful in life.

With me.

Chapter 17

KADRA

TULIPS AND TORTURE

“You don’t always choose the ones you love.” — V

Remember to always treat them as friends. As fragile, beautiful little friends. My little sister, Mila’s voice rings in my head as I water the bright purple tulips.

After years of my sister dreaming of having her dream garden like the ones she saw on the Internet and read about in her romance books, I finally made it happen. But she’s not here to care for her tedious little friends.

I’ve never been interested in plants and if it weren’t for my sister I wouldn’t be down on the grass gardening. Dirt is filthy and I hate how it feels on my hands but I do it regardless because somehow taking care of this garden makes it feel as if she’s here with me and not in another state. It makes me feel closer to her. In the quiet of this garden, I swear sometimes I can hear Mila’s sweet laughter. That is why I do it. Why I kept this garden alive.

“Did you know Tulips once cost as much as homes?” The sweet voice whispers from somewhere in the garden making me lift my head to find Azariel dressed from head to toe in black. Black sweats and a black tee. Looking at him now, I’m glad to see that he no longer looks sick and even has some color on his cheeks. His eyes are no longer sunken and dull. Not happy, but still they don’t look as empty as they did the first time I saw him back in that cold and empty alley.

He looks healthy but most of all he looks… confident.

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