Bullet love

Chapter 14: Drowning

Idara Aurelia.
Meaning, golden Joy.

A name that fitted her so perfectly.

Idara was the most happiest kid. Her soul full of sunshine. One would constantly wonder how she glowed so brightly in this gloomy world. She was living in her own little bubble and I wasn't going to be the one to pop it. Always smiling so wide that her crooked little tooth would appear.

It was absolutely adorable.

She was a kind and patient kid. Always sharing even if she didn't have a single dime. Always putting herself second and firstly caring for others. Like at one of our training days when my father would starve us to nearly death, only feeding us slices of bread. He gave one slice to me and the other slice of bread to Idara. But ofcourse, when nobody was looking she fed her slice to a lost puppy which was hiding in our grande garden.

We never learned how it got there.

I never understood were she learned this angelic behaviour. She was like a gift from God to this evil world. At the end of our fasting our mother prepared us a special meal. As I realized, I couldn't stop myself from vomiting all over my clothes.

'They couldn't have been serious!', I thought.

I instantly looked over to my sister. She was pale as a ghost. Her wide opened eyes staring at the juicy meat.

We never said a word and did as we were told. Rapidly wiping our tears away before they noticed. Both too scared to disobey. Both too scared of the consequences. After all, if we obeyed our parents we deserved to be loved and recognised. Right?

Everytime I got ill my father would lock me inside my room and I wouldn't get any sunlight for days. He'd yell at me for getting sick and punish me in all cruel ways possible. The first I got tortured by him was when I was seven. The way he pushed my head forcefully into the bath filled with ice cold water-

I'd hold my breath until it became unbearable. The drops fizzing in my lungs as I finally breath in the liquid. The pressure of water causing a stabbing pain in my eyes and ears. A terrible burn in my stomach. My little hands trying to grab something but only touching the nothingness. I fought and fought, my body desperate to get to the surface. The constant thought of 'I need to breathe' throbbing repeatedly like a pulse for eternity. I battle for my miserable life till I became exhausted beyond comprehension.

He was just too strong.

This helplessness somehow induced a disturbing sense of peace and calmness. My head floating facing the darkness of the bath tube. The deep whispering voices calling for me to end my agony and to finally give up. A shadow reaching for me from the ground of the tube, politely welcoming me to obscurity.

Drowning.
a horrible sensation.

The only person that helped me keep my sanity after the repeating cycle of torment was her.

My light.
My baby sister.

I stayed strong for her. I never ever wanted her to go through the same shit I had to.

But like always life had a joker prepared for me.

I will never be able to forget her non-fitting panicking eyes to her completely calm body. The entire expression not adding up. It was scary and I was absolutely worried. Her clothes soaked in burgundy blood. The maids trying to clean her up after her first kill.

She was six.

After that experience she was never the same and always when she crumbled the strenght to slowly pick her pieces back up my father had another ass up his sleeve. That time, my parents had taken her out on a killing spree. I overheared how one of the guards had a conversation about how she killed Ju Chan. Daughter of the mighty leader of the Chinese mafia. They used to be well known in the underworld. Popular for always initiating upheaval. My father had some unresolved issues with them and thaught that that was a great opportunity to start training his last born.

The poor girl started changing and ripping off her old self. Slowly forming into the monster our father wanted her to become. An enormous wall built around her now cold heart beating in her chest. Her virgin eyes had seen the sinister side of this system.

Our parents killed us.
They were the devil's slaves.

I used to ask myself if they were part of some kind of cult or such sort.

We weren't seen as children, as humans. We were seen as potential killing machines.

I, Aisha, was the first born Adesina and that was something I could never forget. A fact like an ink tattooed across my face. My father was absolutely furious that I was a woman, not a man as he expected and for years he made me feel like trash because of it. At first he didn't want a woman as the next generation leader of the Adesina Gang. "Women belonged in the kitchen", he'd preach. How pathetic. Especially considering the fact that some of these women became his personal deadly weapons.

The pressure as a first born Adesina was crucial. I had to do a lot of dirty work. All kinds of diabolical tasks. From stabbing animals to peeling off people's skins and bleeding them out.

I did it all.

I did not want Idara to have to do them. So I put a lot upon myself but always lifted my head up high. I had to be picture perfect. A little flaw and I'd receive the repercussions. All the times I'd cry myself to sleep. All the times I'd try to chew my food but only tasting bitter blood after my mother had ripped out my molar just because I had forgotten to bow down before my father and kiss his shoe as a respectful way of greetings. The very same shoe that had walked on top of corpses and sculls.

A fucked up tradition.

If I wasn't on those missions that defined my despicable life I was locked at home.

Home; a dwelling place for you to live together with your family, an environment offering security and happiness.

How funny. I only got:

Prison; a building were criminals are forced to live as punishment.

I rarely got the opportunity to see my life's motivation and spend time with her but when I did got to see her we'd sneak out to the beach and watch the calm waves while humming splendid melodies. The fresh air tickling our skin. The sound of crashing waves evoking a feeling of satisfaction.

The only times we felt peace.

Nevertheless, somehow my parents found out and used their power to ban the beach and then doubled the security. After that we never got to go out except when we had to attend meetings or go on missions or so. The punishment we received that day was unforgettable. My sister and I went out the black room with marks for life on our palms and hoarse voices or rather, no voices at all.

The black room, the place we spent most of our childhood in-

"Put your hands were I can see them", I ordered the moving shadow in front of me, ripping me from my sinister memories. The phantom stepped into the light, "Idara?", my voice slightly shaking in disbelief.

"Hello sister"