𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄

41

I wasn't able to pinpoint the reason for Ali's former callousness towards me until it was spat right at me.

So what made Dieson think that I knew Amina's weaknesses?

We had came out on the veranda midday, on the southernmost edge of the mansion property, too much grass and the loud buzzing of insects outside the mosquito netting encasing us. We were completely alone, or, at least we hoped so, trying to discuss what advantages I could have over my sister. Especially since my father was actin' stingy with my freedom.

What you mean I can't leave the property but Amina can?

Dieson suggested it was because of my own safety, or to wait until things cool down after I put a bullet in Ali. Maybe Ali's allies would be after me, Dieson had suggested. But I felt constricted. Don't really care for the reason why, just the fact that I can't go anywhere.

"Anything she ever mentioned about wanting badly? Maybe somebody she was real close to?"

I didn't like the thought of using someone's secrets or desires against them, but at this point, it was either me or her.

"Not that I can recall," I shrug. Amina was always an afterthought in my mind. Turns out, I should have paid more attention to her.

"Then the best thing that we can do is wait to see what her first move will be," Dieson stated, bumping his fist against mine as it limply sat in my lap.

Unfortunately, we didn't have to wait long to see what that would be.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of sweetness draping over my face. Like a mother had just tucked her child in, long ago having walked out the babysitter, the scent of the movies her husband and her attended on her skin mixed with sex.

My eyes flash open and they sear with pain upon contact with the air. I roll out of bed, immediately kicking Dieson awake on the floor. As soon as he wakes up he rubs at his eyes, gasping for air. I quickly move for the window and find it stuck. The way it wouldn't move made me question if they had been decorational this whole time. Why give the girl who tends to run away a functional window anyways?

I run to the door, and think better, grabbing one of Dieson's discarded socks off of the floor and slipping my hand into the sweat-soaked thing to twist the knob. I can feel the pressure and heat behind the other side of the door, like an inferno is covering the hallway.

"The air vents. She probably places something there," Dieson gasps, pressing an old T-shirt to his mouth and handing me one too. I press the material to my nose, trying to shove against the door and force it down.

Dieson is otherwise occupied, breaking one of the lamps at my bedside, and using a long cord to prod a large air vent in my room. I give up, going back to the window. I tap the glass as my vision starts to go blurry. We needed oxygen soon.

"The glass is real. It can be broken," I yell out to Dieson.

He picks up a heavy vase, made of a hard clay with ancient designs in the purple color of my family. He launched the vase at the glass, something that should have broken it, but only caused a small crack.

The vase was shattered. We scrambled around the room before deciding on using the night stand next. Regardless, it would take a tight squeeze to fit through the long, narrow window. I flinch back as the glass breaks and fresh air enters the room.

Immediately my mouth goes dry, but the burning has stopped even if it feels like we just escaped into the Sahara. It was another Texas day where the weather decided whether it would stick to the plans of the seasons or not. I crawl out, my hips and thighs barely making it through.