no turning back

• forty nine •

elijah

"One thousand two hundred fifty-three. One thousand two hundred fifty-five. One thousand two hundred fifty-seven—"

"Fuck, man," lamented the guard standing at the door. "If you're gonna count that high, at least count all the numbers. My brain hurts from this shit."

My papery tongue skated over my equally dry lips, not bringing even a hint of relief. "Why don't you say the even numbers then?" I suggested, voice edged with sarcasm.

"How about you just shut the fuck up?"

He'd threatened me at least once every twenty minutes for the last several hours, yet continued to do absolutely nothing when I carried on.

"How about you finally shoot me like you promised?" I countered, offering him a sly smile.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Because then I have to look at you. I don't wanna see your dick out."

"Then get me some clothes."

He snorted. "You're awfully demanding for a prisoner."

"If it'll give you the courage to face me, then I don't see the problem."

The resulting silence gave me some satisfaction. Not so brave after all.

"Can you at least tell me when Ammu will return?" I pressed. "You must know something."

"Nope. The next guard will be here in an hour, and you won't be my problem anymore."

An itch formed on my right shoulder blade and I grunted, shifting between my aching feet to relieve some of the pain in my outstretched arms. I'd give anything to scratch it. I couldn't feel my hands at this point, and I wouldn't be surprised if I were left with permanent damage after being strung up for this long.

"Do you speak Farsi?" I asked.

The guard's head twitched, like he nearly gave in to the impulse to look at me. He quickly reasserted his rigid posture, gripping the rifle strapped across his chest.

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" I grumbled. "That's surprising. Ammu has never employed anyone but his own."

Still, he remained silent.

"I wonder how long he's been dipping his grimy fingers in my pot." The idea infuriated me. America was my honey pot.

I grew our enterprises here from scratch twice now, without anyone's help. They all wanted to take it from me. Aaron. My brother. Ammu. The empire would crumble in their hands without me.

A strange, unfamiliar thought occurred to me. Maybe I should let it.

Like a switch, I shook my head to rid the traitorous thought. This empire was my entire life. It was my legacy. I wasn't afraid of much, aside from losing the only woman I'd ever love, but the stab of panic in my chest materialized the fear I'd refused to acknowledge.

Who was I without my power? Memories of being my father's errand boy flooded me. All those years I felt powerless. All those times I'd hesitated to hurt, kill, steal, and was punished ruthlessly for it. My only reprieve was taking command of the monster my father created within me and using it for my own will. Who was I without that darkness?