ACRO

Blood

Sam lay unconscious, beside her sister's corpse. Youssef had one knee on the ground, holding the dart that sedated her, panting softly.

"What did you just do?" Alfarsi asked, in utter dismay.

"Why kill your enemy with a bullet, when you can tear them apart from the inside?" he said, turning to look at Alfarsi.

"Knowing she couldn't save her sister from us, and living with it, as our prisoner will be the painful, slow death she deserves." said Youssef, scooping Sam off the floor.

"If you don't object, I'd like her to stay in my quarters, for my personal use." he said, facing Alfarsi, on his feet.

"As you know, I don't like sharing my things." he added.

A smirk spread across Alfarsi's face, his eyes gleaming with pride and wickedness.

"I see you've embraced it." said Alfarsi.

"The darkness."

"A seed planted by the Americans she works for." said Youssef.

"Correct." said Alfarsi.

"Now, she'll know hell." said Youssef.

*

Next afternoon:

Her eyes opened, slowly.

She sat up, looking around her, as her eyes recognized the room she was in. She wasn't tied in chains this time.

Plain white walls, a red coloured light bulb on the wall, above her, a grilled window to her left with the curtains drawn, a door to her right, and another set of light bulbs on the wall across her.

Gracefully carved, in the shape of two giant roses.

Across her stood the same steel cupboard with the photograph of a family stuck to it's surface.

Youssef's family.

Images of Monica's corpse flashed in her head, as her memory came flooding back, filling her with grief.

It should've been me.

It should've been me.

It should've been me.

Her mind repeated the same thing over and over again as she drew her knees to her chest and dug her hands into her hair, letting out a grunt of frustration.

Youssef flashed in her mind, as he pulled the trigger on her sister, and a puff of smoke left the gunpoint after the bullet pierced into her.

Her head rose, her breath heavy, as her teeth gritted at the thought of Youssef, her eyes blazing with rage.

The next moment, the door of the bathroom opened, and Youssef stepped out. His slick, black hair was wet, rested on his forehead and he was dressed in a pair of military cargo jeans and a grey hoodie. His eyes were slightly red and his face fresh, indicating he had just bathed. As soon as their eyes met, they froze for a moment. He stood silently, unable to utter a word, while she sat on the bed, her lips parted as anger seered in her, her eyes holding a look, murderous and filled with rage.

Never before, did he see her this angry.

Suddenly, she leapt out, charging at him in full force, and grabbed his neck. She slammed him to the wall, a roar leaving her mouth.