𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 by A.P.Mary

14.

I looked at my brother and then at Esra; was she really talking about our brother? It's not very surprising that he's alive, but the part where he wants to kill us is new to my ears. Not talking about the fact that he has those files. I raise my eyebrows, and then my eyes lock again into Mave's, and she has the same expression as everyone else, just with a touch of confusion as she has no idea who we're talking about.

Still, I wasn't seeing something shady in Esra's hookup story until she did, asking more questions about it. Her intuition is one of her best skills that I've caught as we talked, and surely not to waste either.

"I don't think she should be killed." Every sight is on me now, and somehow they ain't jumping on my head, so I continue, "she could be useful somehow, and as soon as I see I've mistaken, her head leaves her neck." Iuliano smiles at me from afar, and I smirk back, and from everyone's silence, he speaks.

"Then why not try?" Iuliano say. "Kid, come with me and my brother in our office." She's on her feet with no hesitation, and her small smile shines for two milliseconds, as her grip on her life has won before ours, temporarily.

Me and Iuliano exchanged looks and decided to make a bargain with her, and her reaction was very formal and elegant.

She starts to laugh  hysterically as we look at her "Me working for you?"  I didn't expect any less.

"Either this or you become a modern chandelier design." She remembers what her fate is, and I couldn't be more surprised

"What exactly is my role then?" I uncross my legs and stand up from the chair, lying in front of the desk.

"Nothing too hard; we find our brother, we go and catch him, get what we want, and then we'll see." She doesn't seem too amused by our terms.

"At one condition—we listen—I get to sleep on a bed, eat normal food, and have no cuffs." I look at my brother and then nod

"No cuffs means chip" I shouldn't give her what she wants, but I don't have any other choice but to do it. Killing her was easier, but using her might come in handy. I extend a hand and we shake hands. Her hand is soft, cold, and she still has all of her nails on, with the visible growth on the bottom. We lead her to Iuliano's lab, planting a microchip in her forearm.

Her room is right next to Antaura's, a small place that used to be a storage room with a window , a one person bed, and a lamp. In a corner, there's a camera connected directly to my computer, and the window has bars, making the escape percentage drop to zero.

~

One shot, two, three—I lost count—but what I know is that tonight at 3 a.m. wasn't a good moment to open up the attic, where various family photos were plastered around. I felt the room spinning with me, but somehow the picture in my hand stayed unmoved, unblurred by the Vodka i just drank.

My father embraced my 6 year old self for the picture, smiling so charmingly towards the cameraman that people would think we were good people. We were, and our family was, but not him; he was like a tumor. His disease expanded towards everyone until the weak ceased and the weaker stayed unmoved, absorbing and becoming his bad copy.

I drink again, this time directly from the bottle, but I still cannot feel anything; I cannot feel sickness, sadness, resentment, or anything else. His face, his agonizing expression looking at his son throwing a lighter match on the floor, his eyes looking at the fire approaching, while slowly accepting his fate, unmoved. I was crying, and to this day I still haven't figured out if I was shedding tears from escaping his abuses or sadness from killing the last portion of my family that actually cared about me.