Escape

7

I get back inside and instead of going to the room I was given, I ask for the one where they put Neil. One of the guards calls for the women doctor I saw earlier in Russian and when she arrives, she takes me through another hallway and set of stairs until a room. Neil is lied down on a hospital bed with oxygen in her nostrils. She's sweating and looks drugged.
"Hey" I say softly coming to sit on the chair next to her bed. Her tired eyes blink at me.
"They're racists" she says her voice as weak and tired as her eyes. "All of them" I sigh at her statement. I dumbly thought she wouldn't notice. The first guy we met with the rifle, the men from the second shop, people in the streets, even the woman at the tourism office, probably the whole damn country.

"What happened?" my voice as a low deceived tone. I hate those people. Blondie is the only one up that was nice and acknowledged her like an actual person without seeing a skin color first. He was the most annoying one too but the one I hated the least.

"They yanked the shoe off even though I was screaming and threw me in a wheelchair like my body couldn't feel pain. I've been screaming non-stop through all the procedure and they only sedated me at the end."
I look at her foot, they bandaged it. Guilt washes over me for several reasons; for being the reason she's hurt, for not realizing sooner how bad she was hurt, not hearing her screams from the garden with Ivan, not staying with her at all through the whole thing. I could have avoided all of this. I feel responsible for her; we are in this together and should stick together and protect each other. At least for the dangerous part until we are both safe in the plane home.

"I think they cut most of my braids too", she ads with soulless laugh.

"I'm sorry" I say. I'm going to need to have a conversation with Ivan.

"It's not your fault." She looks at me then nod for me to believe what she's saying.

"You still haven't answered my questions from earlier"
I fight back a smile by shaking my head slightly. For someone that is in pain she sure won't forget about the answers she never got. So, instead of ignoring her again I just tell her about Ivan being my father's best friend and my Godfather. I tell her that I didn't know he lived here and it's my brother, who I called, that told me and called him. I don't tell her the part where we're not safe here, just that he is not the greatest guy. She probably already doesn't feel safe considering the way they treated her, so I won't add more fuel to the fire.
"You have a brother?"
"Yeah, an older one" I answer "and a little sister" I don't know why I add that part. I spent the last few days we've been away trying not to think about them. Them being my mother and sister, my brother is none of my concern. These two are the two most important things in my life and I'd do anything to protect them, from this world and soon from the most dangerous of all, my father. I was so close to being able to take them away from this life with him.
"How old is she?"
"Five"
"She must be so cute" I actually smile at that, she is. "What's her name?"
"Emma"

"Emma" she whispers, then after a moment of reflection, she says "I'm Nelia" it takes me a second to nod.

"Hi, Nelia" I say.

"My father gave me that name, he said it looks like it came from the stars and I was his little star. Nobody calls me like that anymore" I wait for the rest of the story but it doesn't come "I have a little brother too" she reveals instead, "well, he is way older than your little sister but he still is my baby" I want to ask why she used past tense to talk about her father but I chose against it. I wouldn't take advantage of her drugged state to know personal things about her.

"Yeah?" I say instead, inviting her to keep going and she nods "how old is he?"
"Sixteen, his name is Junior"

I don't know why I ask her if her parents never wanted other kids. It's a dumb question, but her reaction unveil curiosity in me. She frowns hesitantly, parts her lips, clearly looking for something to say, fails and closes them. Then, when she reopens them again, she tells me that her father died 5 years ago. He was in the army and died on duty is what she says. It's been five years but she talks about it like it just happened, like the wound is freshly open. They probably were really close.
It makes me think about my mother, I couldn't imagine loosing her. And i have to save her before I do.