Page 27 of They Call Him Reaper

Her father cannot rule my nightmares while she tries to star in my dreams. There aren’t any happy endings for me. My life is one continuous tragedy, and she doesn’t need to feed me the idea that someone can or will care for me.

Hope is the most dangerous thing to give someone. I don’t want her hope. I want my vengeance. My body relaxes as whatever she gave me takes hold of my functions and starts to shut them down. Rest, then vengeance, I tell myself to keep from fighting my sleep. Even if my brain isn’t quiet, my body will be.

It must be. True silence isn’t something I’ve ever been able to achieve, but the drugs in my system don't care. Everything was black until the nightmares rolled in again.

My naked body was strapped down to a bed as shivers took over my body. Father had the air so low that the coldness hurt. The skin at my wrists and ankles were raw and bloody from my attempts to break free. I want out of this room, off this dirty mattress, and away from Father.

Tears clouded my eyes, but an electroshock fried my nerves, making it impossible to scream from the pain.

“I told you, Dante. Your emotions aren’t wanted here,” Father whispered near my ear. I prayed he’d get close enough for me to bite off his nose. His laugh grated my nerves, pulled my hate closer to the surface. The spark in my eyes just added a tinge of amusement to his dead glare. “That’s it. Bring the fire and stop being a little bitch.” He spat in my eye, then slapped me as if he just had a bad memory. “How dare you try to kill yourself after all I’ve done for you!” He grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin until I’m bleeding. “I stuck around when your parents didn’t.”

It was his favorite wound to exploit because he knew that I couldn’t understand how they seemed to love me so much, only to choose to disappear. What did I do to make them leave? Pain ripped through me as he punctured me in the side. My screamsmeant nothing to him as my blood oozed out and pooled underneath me. The only solace in that moment was that my blood was warm.

“I’ve had you for twelve years; rescued you when you were six and you tried to leave me! It’s your turn to take care of me. Protect me like I protected you all these years. I’m disappointed, Dante.”

His disapproval still had the power to hurt me. It made me want to do anything to earn his respect.

“You’re right, Father. I’ve been too emotional,” I choked out. I learned long ago that it was easier to just agree with him; to just do what he wants. The last part of me who was still that well-loved six-year-old, who believed that there was goodness in everyone, died as my tears dried. “I’ll make you proud."

I thrashed in my sleep, trying to pull myself out of my misery, or at least change it from what I knew as my reality, but everything went still. This time, the torture didn’t continue like it really did. My brain didn’t force me to remember the rest of what he did that day.

Instead, he started to choke. Blood poured out of his orifices then he disintegrated, floating away in crumbs of himself. My body warmed and all the pain associated with Father faded. Sunshine replaced darkness, and the abandoned house was now a perfect day where the sun and wind were in harmony. The light felt great on my skin but not enough to overheat me. I was in a field of flowers of all types that blended brilliantly into a colorful masterpiece.

“Dante!” Inaya called for me; I felt compelled to go to her.

I followed her voice until I found her in a clearing. Her smile was bright as she waited for me on a picnic blanket. Her hair flowed freely, each curl on her head was perfectly defined. Her soft yellow dress brought out the brown in her skin. Shepractically glowed like a beacon despite the sun’s effort to be my only source of light.

“Come, Dante,” she called out while waving her hand.

I walked toward her with bare feet. My once naked body was covered with a white linen shirt and navy shorts. I laid down on the blanket and she pulled my head into her lap. Everything was calm as I watched the clouds float by in the clear blue sky.

Inaya hummed a song as she ran her fingers through my hair. As my eyes drifted closed, I heard her whisper.

“I have you now. Rest.”

The quietness I've been seeking for years settled over me, because she somehow neutralized the chaos inside of me.

SEVENTEEN

Inaya

He sleptfor the better part of three days. Dante’s body and mind must have agreed that he needed rest because he was in the middle of one of his night terrors, but suddenly calmed. I’d waited for him to start again, but he didn’t. By the second day, I was able to break his fever, which made his sleep more productive at restoring his body.

After I had gotten him to bed the first day, he gave me the code to get into the storage where he keeps the good stuff like antibiotics. I only got what I needed for him while trying to ignore the rest. He has given me some level of trust, even if it's just for necessity, and I don't want to break it. The money, passports, weapons, and other personal items remain unchecked while I keep my focus on the rest of the medicine stash.

Now, he has enough energy to move on his own for short periods of time. It makes me happy because it’s a bitch taking care of a temperamental assassin while cramping. It's a deadly combination that wouldn't work out in my favor. The worst of the pain has subsided, but I have that low-level throb that doesn’t want to go away.

Dante is out on the hammock, taking in some sun and fresh air while I make us some lunch. It’s not much, just a shrimp salad with mango because my observations tell me it’s his favorite fruit. It’s almost time to give him more medicine, and he needs food in his system.

The slight wind blows my hair when I step outside, the warm sand under my toes shifting with each step as I make my way to where he lies. Dante is wearing shades and nothing else, because who am I to tell him to put on clothes.

“Here’s a salad,” I tell him. “I added extra mango since you like it so much.”

He frowns and pushes the bowl hard enough for me to almost drop it. A chunk of mango lands on top of my foot and spikes my irritation.

“This isn’t a couple's vacation. Stop being so domestic,” he gripes, despite not being at full strength yet.

I swear I feel my right eye twitch as my temper gets the best of me. “This is not me beingdomestic.I’m simply playing nurse. Now eat the damn salad so you can take your meds.” I press it down on his chest. “Or I’ll force feed you.”

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