James Moriarty - The Devil's Descendant

Chapter 18

"I asked you a question. It was not rhetorical," James glued his eyes on Aella even more than Moran. 

It was Aella who had said the majority, and Moran had not finished it off. Thankfully for him, his neck was being saved for once. 

"Why does it matter so much if I am in love with him?"

"Because it cannot happen, Aella,"

"Why?"

"Love is a weakness. I love no one,"

When she looked into her father's eyes, she saw the deep-seated impression of never loving a living soul. It was who he was and there was never a chance to change that anymore. If only there was a way for them to work away in between. Everything was happening too soon, and changes would not be able to happen. It was too late. 

"Not even me?" she intently gazed at her father, beckoning in her mind that the tears would not come forward. 

James thought for a minute. He believed love to be a weakness, he would not let anyone know if he loved her even if she was his daughter. "Not even you."

Pushing past Moran and James, she fixed her focus into her father's eyes. She drilled them into his head so hard he looked like he would crack. "Despicable."

Walking away from the scene, she took her own way out of the door, fully knowing that she had left her gun,  knowing she was vulnerable to the attack of Alina. Instead, she had the power of an army in her body right there, she had the force of a million swords plunging into people. In her heart, she was torn between the life she used to lead and the life she had now. Somehow, she believed that James did not love her. 

In her cargo joggers, she heard her phone buzz against her leg. It buzzed again, vibrating ferociously against her skin. 

"Who wants me now?" 

When she lifted her phone, she saw a small little verse pop up on her phone that she had never seen before in her life. She was unaware of its meaning. 

Leaving me in silence was all you ever did, 

You took me, tortured me and hunted me till dead,

I saw everything you were doing until you looked at me,

To her, it seemed like some kind of practical joke, a gimmick to get her attention so that she would be focused on it. Little did she understand the truth behind its meaning. 

"Some people." she scoffed, replacing the phone into her joggers, sealing the pocket shut with the velcro. 

As she walked down the road, she felt as though she was hallucinating when she saw billboards on the road with separate parts of the verse she had just read. What was going on? That was all her mind was referring to. 

When she reached for her phone, she thought about calling her father, or Moran to tell them, but she stopped herself from going toward them. Not one of them loved her. So, why would they care about her? Why should they care? 

That was what she failed to gather in her mind. She failed to gather the facts since she was so dreamy, her head was fuzzy and confused. Far from being focussed.

When she stopped in front of the first billboard, she got the sense that someone was behind her. Without turning around, she knew the presence far too well. 

"This won't hurt one bit, Aella." a dart was blown into the back of her neck, causing her to fall to the ground. "It's only a mild tranquiliser, I knew you would put up a fight. Nice show with your father and Moran. Nothing escapes my knowledge."

A lot of time has passed since she was shot with the dart, turning into a sleep she was unable to wake from. Until she smelt fire. Blazing fire, all around her. The smell was putrid and sickening. She was unable to breathe, choking on the impure air. It was not clean air she was smelling, it was toxic and out of control. 

"My head," she rubbed her head, pulling the dart out of the back of her neck.

Reaching her hands out, she touched all around her, soon stopping as she hit her hand on eight separate sides, all amounting to the amount of a square box. "Shoot!"
From the texture of the material, she had deduced it to be wood.

"Australian Buloke," she murmured to herself. 

"You studied trees, how nice! I studied medical needs, care, especially stitches. Your stitches. I took the liberty of removing them, I hope you don't mind," Alina was joyful, holding petrol in her hands, throwing it all over her wooden box. The fire was at least several hundred meters away from her, but it was getting closer and closer as every second passed.

All of the liquid dripped into the box, seeping into her clothes and her wound. She cried out in pain, screaming in sheer agony, it was so painful, she was lost. Where was Moriarty? She prayed that he knew. She prayed he would come. There was nothing she could do. If she tried to kick the box open, she would risk hurting herself even more than being burned alive. 

Right there, she only had her wound to contend with. The shooting and stinging burning her on the inside.

"Leaving me in silence was all you ever did, you took me, tortured me and hunted me till dead, I saw everything you were doing until you looked at me."

Aella knew then and there who it was behind her, the similar scar on the back of her neck seemed to identify her a lot more easily than most other people. Then again she was not like most people, that was one thing that she was not. Ordinary people to them were a different breed that was unable to understand what it was that they felt in the criminal world. 

"Oh, Alina, what is sit that you want from me!" she cried from inside of the box, she knew she was dying steadily and gradually. "You are in love with a man my father views like his own brother, get a grip."

"Even though you are in pain, you still manage to try and hurt me, save your breath,"

"I am saving my fury for you, I know I will get out of here alive, whether you believe it will happen or not." Aella paused, catching a glimpse at her hand enveloped in blood. "I know you want to hurt me, but I told Moran myself. Wounds are not what will define me, it's my choice of how I use them." 

Wounds can define us and scar us for the rest of our lives,

They make us remember the times we were happier and better of never being alive,

Burning was murderous and tortuous in ways we never know, 

We can do it to others and never understand how it cooks their body away.