Daughter of the Refuge

Chapter Twenty-Three

Trigger Warning: panic attack, fire?

Fire in every way burns, destroys, and kills, cutting down everything in its path. It's a beautiful form of destruction, captivating to watch yet agonizing when you are caught in it's flame.

The fire burning in Samantha's chest was one that nothing could have doused.

She threw open the door of the Refuge, her subconscious leading her there without any encouragement. Somehow she knew that her father would be there, and the moment her eyes fell on his silhouette, standing at the window of one of the vacant rooms, she didn't hesitate before letting the fire loose.

"You kidnapped three toddlers?" She yelled, refraining from pinning him to the wall physically, and settling for pinning him with a glare that cried of her hate for him. "You kidnapped them and held them in the basement of a dark, cold building for nine years? What is wrong with you?"

"Three?" Snyder mumbled in simple shock. "Wonder where you got that number from."

"What?" Samantha spat. "Do you really mean to tell me that you only kidnapped two but the third just happened to disappear within a week of the others?"

"No. They only published three in the papers. The fourth was an unknown child."

Samantha's jaw fell open in horror at his calm tone, as if they were having a pleasant chat about the weather.

"Why?" She sputtered, unable to cough out any other words.

"I told you there was a war in this city. It's been going on a lot longer than your precious newsies have been involved for."

"You mean to tell me that you kidnapped three- sorry, four- children because of a war that everyone in this city is oblivious to unless they're being held at gunpoint?"

"If I told you, would you believe me?"

"Knowing you," Samantha scoffed, "I'd believe it in a heartbeat."

"Why do you seem so intent on pinning me as the enemy here?"

"Why do you seem so intent on killing the newsies?" Samantha shot back.

"I heard about the attack," he said, finally turning from the window to gaze at his daughter. "I hope you didn't suffer too many causalities."

"You're unbelievable." She shook her head, reminding herself of her task. "I would expect you to know that we will be returning those children to their homes."

"And killing yourself in the process? Samantha, you don't understand half of what's going on here."

"So you would kill me?"

"I'm not the one you need to worry about. Although getting the children out of my building will take quite some skill, I would expect you to know that."

"Trust me, if it means destroying more of your disgusting plan, I would do anything."

"I don't doubt you would, but Daughter, I'm not the villain here."

"You keep saying that, but then I turn around to see two more dead bodies. I'm done believing you."

"Then I'm sorry I have to do this," he sighed, lighting a cigar he pulled from his breast pocket. "You really will get yourself killed one day."

Samantha didn't even have a moment to move before one arm covered her mouth with a cloth, and the other wrapped itself firmly around her waist. She sucked in a deep breath, immediately recognizing the liquid coating the cloth. But she could only hold her breath for so long before she was forced to inhale the intoxicating scent. Her limbs fell limp, despite her brain struggling to find a way out.