Page 4 of Brutal Empire

My heart was beating as fastas it had in the memory I had just lived through. My vision had blurred a bit, and as I blinked away the remains of my old life, Daphne’s face came into view. Her gray eyes pierced me as if she was trying to look into my soul.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

She cocked her head, already detecting my lies, yet she didn’t call bullshit. Her eyes swept me from my head down to my toes. I had grown in the last four years. I was taller than her, but that wasn’t much of a feat.

“Give me an answer in the morning,” she said as she walked away.

I let go of the breath I was holding and walked over to the sink. My hands reached out for the blinds and pulled them open.

White. Peaceful. Serene.

I could see the appeal of this place. Without Daphne, I would have died. She didn’t have to take me in, but as broken as I had been, she’d still found a way to deal with my demons. She could have discarded me or dropped me off at the nearest embassy and let them deal with me. Because of my accent, Daphne was sure I was American, and maybe there was a familiarity with that word, but then again, I could be blindly agreeing to find a sense of belonging.

Could I do it?

I’d like to think I was strong, but in reality, it was easy to kill off a person when you were dead inside. It didn’t make you brave or strong. It just made you a monster because cutting off someone’s heart while it was still beating had no effect on you.

The people I picked were carefully selected. Something in me soared every time I ended the life of someone who had harmed others. It was justice. Thus was the balance of life, right?

Walking back to my room, I wondered what had gone down that night. Who was that boy, Jason? But deep down in my bones, I knew he was a missing piece in the jigsaw puzzle that was my life. He seemed to fit perfectly, and it called to me. The memory of his face made my blood sing with rage.

You’re mine.

Bile rose up my throat. It didn’t matter the time, the place, if I was asleep or wide-awake—hewas always waiting for the perfect moment to creep up and remind me that no matter how much I thought I had changed, deep down inside, I was still helpless.

Fear is the first thing we feel when we come into the world. It’s why our lungs fill with air, and we scream. The lucky ones follow it with love, but not everyone has that chance. Fear was the one emotion that ruled my life.

I sat on my bed, closed my eyes, and took it all in.

Could I really go on with it? As much as I talked a big game, I was the first person to doubt myself. Sometimes I stood on legs that could not walk—a poser.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the doubts that began to cloud my judgment. No—I was no longer helpless. I had changed.

Have you, my pet?My master’s voice mocked me as it always did when I started to feel like a fraud.

Running to the bathroom, I made it in time when I began to heave. I had barely eaten anything today, so nothing but bile came out.

When did people begin to feel normal? Was that possible for someone like me? Or was normal an illusion?

I got up, washed my mouth, and splashed water on my face. Then I gazed at my reflection once more.

“Who am I?”

Too bad that asking never got me an answer. Instead, I went back to my bed and closed my eyes. I conjured the memory from earlier, but it was still fuzzy—too raw and fresh that my mind still had yet to recognize it.

* * *

Escape.

Escape.

Escape.

That was one constant word in the English dictionary that I had never forgotten. It lived in my mind. I breathed it with every fiber of my being. There were countless times that I closed my eyes and prayed with everything I had in me to turn into something else and be able to fly away.

That word was so ingrained in me that my heart rate immediately began to accelerate when I opened my eyes.

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