Vae Victus [Volume 1] [WOE TO THE VANQUISHED]

Chapter 6

Winter in the self-proclaimed greatest city in the world was quite magical.

From the window of our apartment, I could see dozens of people skating on the frozen lake. I could stare at them for hours, curled up near the window. I enjoyed watching the revelry, but it was too cold for me to walk outside. I preferred the comfort of the central heating system. I drank warm cocoa and watched the denizens of this city enjoying their days.

We did not enjoy much snow in the Middle East. The wide-eyed little girl in me danced with delight at the sight of the Christmas lights and trees being put up, one after another. I should decorate our apartment. I never celebrated Christmas before.

It had been six months since I agreed to move to New York with John. I shared his bed every night. I tasted his lips more than I could count. I had learned what he would allow and what he would not. We shared a lot of things. There was not a single significant event in my life which I had not disclosed to him.

The monster in me is terrified. John had broken all my defenses. He knew all my secrets, all my weaknesses. He had gained my trust. He was in the very position to utterly destroy me at his whim. 

Would that not be the ultimate vengeance for Sarah's death? Killing me as I was before would be meaningless. I was already a dead woman walking. A hollow soul. But he gave me hope that my life could be different. He resurrected the little girl in me from the dead. He collected all the broken pieces of my psyche and made me whole. He was my savior, my own private Jesus. 

Grant me hope and take it away. Build me whole and shatter me again. My half-brother would love such dastardly plan.  I could imagine John silently executing me as I knelt in front of Sarah's gravestone. It would be poetic justice.

John owned me. I flew into his cage willingly. It was comfortable, it was warm and it was the happiest days of my life. My monster was caged and my resurrected little girl went loose.

I leaped in joy as I heard the front door opening. He was home. I pranced toward the front door. My bare feet trampled the thick rug of the living room, traversed the cold marbles of the hallway and rushed toward the door.

I stopped on my track when I saw the man and woman at the door. They were not John.

White male, late twenties, 6 feet 2 inches, well built, medium cropped blonde hair. Likely to be ex-military from his gait and posture. His haircut was too long for him to be in active service. 

Accompanied by a white female, 5 feet 6 inches, plump, long brunette hair, with thick makeup and a horrible taste in clothing. Strike the last bit from the police report, Officer. What do I know about fashion?

I shifted my body so I face them sideways. I was unarmed so I should minimize the area where they could attack me. My gun was in the bedroom, inside the drawer on the left table. I could take it in 15 seconds if I sprinted. 

The man seemed to be well trained. If he was armed, I would not make it past the hallway before he shot me. I gritted my teeth, I had grown soft to be caught unprepared.

"Who the fuck are you?" the woman shouted. 

Her hands were holding shopping bags. John had taken me around to shop in New York a few times, so I recognized the high-end brands.

"I live here," I said. "Who are you?"

The man was staring, but not at my face. I was reminded that I had rushed to the door wearing nothing but a semi-transparent lace robe. It started as one of my silly attempts to seduce John, but it was comfortable so I wore it often.

I felt uncomfortable with his leer. Another sign of my weaknesses. Six months ago I would not even care. John had gentrified me. Instead of a powerful wolf, I had turned into a Pomeranian dog in heat, wagging my tail to any strangers. I crossed my hands in front of my chests.

The monster in me screamed obscenity. Are you crazy, Kefira? You need your hands to defend your life, not your modesty. I agreed with its assessment of the situation, but my hands refused to move.

The woman noticed the man's stare and punched him on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" he winced. "What's that for?"

"Leave," I said. "Or I will call the police." For the love of God, I will call the police? What the heck, Kefira. I sounded pathetic and I knew it. The old me would have broken their bones or died trying.

"I'm Jane Walker," she said. "John is my..." she paused for a while to think. My heart skipped for a second. Did John cheat on me? "... brother-in-law."

Brother-in-law? "You are Sarah's sister?" I asked. It was hard to believe as she did not resemble Sarah whatsoever.

"You knew Sarah," she said. It sounded like an accusation.

"Yes, I did," I said.

"Did you sleep with John before or after she died?" she asked.

"Sarah never told me that she had a sister," I said. 

As far as I knew, Sarah had two brothers. I did not like Jane's accusation. Not for my sake, but for John's. I wanted to defend his honor, but this woman was not worth the effort.

"And John is not home at the moment, so please leave," I continued.

Jane sniggered. "Sarah is my half-sister. My mom is her dad's mistress."

From the tone of her voice, Jane hated everyone she mentioned: Sarah, their dad, and her own mom.

"John told me that I could stay here for a few days," she paused for a second. "We are looking for a new place to live."

Look elsewhere, lady. This place is taken.

I shifted my eyes from Jane to the man next to him. "And who is he?"

"My boyfriend," she said. A little bit too forcefully. She seemed insecure about their relationship. I would too if my boyfriend ogled another woman like he did.

"Stay here," I said. "I will call John to confirm this."

She scowled. Her nostril flared like a wild boar.

I turned my back to the couple and marched back to the main bedroom. I took my gun, changed my clothes and only then, called John.