Page 32 of The Pretty Savage

"Did you?" the man roared, making me jump on the spot. "You stole his child?"

Whose child? I didn't understand what he was trying to say. I was the only child here. Mama didn't steal anything.

"Let her go!" I yelled out, rushing toward them, just as my mom belted out, "Ne!"

I stopped, looking at her with confusion. But he was hurting her. I just wanted to help her.

"Come here, little one," the man above her cooed, his pale eyes looking like ice. "I won't hurt you."

"You're hurting my mom." My lower lip wobbled, and I didn't want to cry, but he was hurting my mom. I didn't like that. I didn't like people that were hurting my mom. "I don't like you."

"It's okay." He smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile like the ones my mom had. It looked strange, ugly. "I can take you to your dad."

"Ne! Azra, ne!" my mom yelled again, her eyes round, filled with fear. We rarely spoke in Bosnian, only when it was the two of us, and I knew this wasn't a good situation. Not like when her boyfriend would come and bring me chocolate and play with me. This man wasn't a good man.

"I don't have a dad," I said, taking a step back. "I only have my mama."

The man looked down at my mom, glaring at her before his eyes came up to me. "You have a dad, and he would like to meet you."

"No! You're lying. I don't have a dad!"

"Azra, slušaj me," Mama started speaking, but the man lifted his hand up and slapped her across the face.

"No!"

"Jebena kuja," he spat out, and I only understood one of those words. Kuja was a female dog, wasn't it? "Zacepi gubicu, Elvira, da ti je ja ne bi zacepio."

I had no idea what came over me, but my eyes landed on the big brick on the ground, and while he looked down at my mom, choking her, I picked it up, and without a second thought, I rushed toward him, hitting him across his back with it. "Let her go!" I screamed, surprising him enough for him to let my mom go.

"Fuck!" The man groaned, starting to straighten himself up, and only then did I realize how big he was. "You're gonna pay for that, little one."

My eyes were focused on him and I didn't see the moment my mama stood up, now holding the brick that fell out of my hand once I hit him.

"You're gonna—" But he never got to finish the sentence. My mom jumped on his back, holding the brick in her other hand, looking at me like she always did.

With love.

With so much sadness.

"Bježi, Azra. Bježi!" She wanted me to run, to go away.

There was no time to think, no time to argue with her, and as her hand lifted up, that brick high in the air, I ran.

I ran and ran and ran as the sound of a body falling to the ground reached my ears, as my mom's scream tore through the night. I ran, going down the street, and it took me a second to realize that it wasn't my mom screaming.

It was me.

"Vega!" A familiar voice tore through my subconscious and just like in the dream, I jumped up in the bed, groaning as pain slashed through my very being, my eyes landing on Yolanda at the edge of the bed, her round eyes filled with worry. "Jesus Christ, Vega."

Fuck.

I hadn't dreamed about my mother in months, and out of all days for her to slip into my dreams, it had to be today. Or, well, tonight, judging by the darkness visible outside as I looked through the window.

My mouth was parched, my throat feeling like sandpaper, and my brain was still trying to catch up with the fact that I wasn't a five-year-old any longer, running away as my mother killed a man in cold blood for trying to take me. A murder that destroyed her life, or at least that was what I thought until a dozen other bodies were dug up from our backyard.

"Who's Azra?" Yolanda asked, her voice finally flickering through my mind. "You've been saying that name over and over and?—"

"No one, Yo," I groaned. "Can I get some water, please?" She sat there, looking at me as if I would suddenly break apart in front of her very eyes. "Now, Yo," I rasped, forcing myself to push a smile on my face, but my skin felt tight, the pain pulsing from my eyebrow all the way to my cheekbone. I lifted my hand, my finger pressing against my cheek, only to hiss out in pain. "Fuck!"

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