Ice on Records

Chapter twelve: Gwen

Ten years ago...

Sixth of April, 2014

Beijing, China

"Qan!" My mother slapped my face as she yelled at me to wake up, a red fingerprint visible on my cheek. In the corner, my half-sister, Michiko Fà, laughed in amusement, not giving a fuck to hide it.

I was never the loved child, not when mama got married to Li, not when I was born to this world.

I sat up, my body still aching with fatigue when mama pinched my ear painfully. I screamed in pain, yet the pressure on her fingers seems to tighten the more I try to get off against her.

"This is what you get for being such a bitch," Michiko mouthed mockingly as she broke one bread and stuffed it onto her mouth. A fat shit she is!

"Go make breakfast, you ungrateful little shit!" Mama yelled at my ear like a screeching rat that made me stood up and run to the kitchen.

My bruised legs were shaky, I could barely even stand straight without them almost collapsing. Goddammit, I hate Sunday.

Sunday is supposed to be the Lord's day, but everything felt like the day of belts and welts everytime weekends come.

I get cursed almost everyday, my ears almost memorizing each word my mom would call me.

"Bitch"

"Slut"

"Motherfucker"

Sometimes, I would even doubt that this people in the household is my family. They don't even feed me unless I'd beg for just a stale of bread.

After mama and her rat's shitty request, I walked out of the house to retrieve some 'business'. I had been starving like forever; my worn out cardigan sweater hanging loosely on my frame.

"Ah, Qan." Dusk, a ransom dealer whom I never known the name but gave me a shit call name instead, rang my middle name out when I appeared in the dark alleyway.

"You look like shit," I blurted. Dusk's devilish laugh echoed the alley, almost making the walls crack. "Who's the targets?" I breathed.

Dusk's lips curled up into a smirk, handing me a dusty brown envelope. "You won't like this, Gwen. But you'll be satisfied."

I ripped the envelope open, revealing a picture of... my family; my mom, Michiko, and my stepfather. I wasn't there in the picture, but my blood ran cold in both disgust and satisfaction. I am robbing my own family.

I wanted to refuse, but the nagging feeling; the feeling for revenge on the abuse they gave me. I see it, I like it, I want it. I want to rob them and make them my victims.

****

That night, they kicked me out of the house. Yet it was part of the plan. Dusk waited just two blocks from the house, a bomb activator on his grasp.

"What the hell is that?" I pointed at the device, and he smirked.

"Oh, Qan. It's just a little plaything if you don't... cooperate. Your family would turn to ashes once you change your mind. And so are you would turn to one." Dusk stated, a silent threat that would happen if I turn my heel and go back to my disheveled life.

So, I followed.

Once the night darkened with every ancestor, every person, and the dragon slept in honor, Dusk and I made our mischief.

Upon entering the yard, I could see the shifts in Dusk's eyes; continously comparing each object to me. Everything in the house was riches, yet I was in rags.

I led myself and Dusk to the hall where Li's office was place; where I was never allowed to enter or spare a glance.

"Perfect." Dusk's eyes sparkled with greed when he saw the safe; left opened stupidly with cash vomiting all over the floor.

But fate had other plans.

The alarm went off just as we were about to reach the door, making me tense up and think for my safety first.

I pushed Dusk over, grabbing the bag of money that contained almost nine hundred thousand dollars and sprinted outta there, not caring of what happened to my partner in this crime.

Then, I heard a shot being pulled at the sky, signaling to fucking surrender or see Satan in hell.

Turning around, Dusk was there. Your family would turn to ashes once you change your mind. And so are you would turn to one.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My hands were held high, my sign of defeat written all over me.

"You think you can–"

Another gunshot.

Dusk's eyes went from rage to glassy, his lips turning irregularly pale instantly. Behind him, just ten blocks away, was Michiko, the barrel of her gun still smoking.

Without any hesitation, I sprinted outta there before Dusk could fall down limp.

I'm only fourteen, Dusk was only a thirty-two year old American immigrant in Beijing, yet he's dead, just like my ancestors.