𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐚 [𝐁𝐱𝐁]

CHAPTER 6 : Heart Of A Rebel.

CHAPTER 6 : Heart Of A Rebel.

Zhavia Yorush age 14|

A few minutes to midnight I watched my father park his rumbling small car at the front our house. The paranoia evaporated but anxiety hit me from almost nowhere when I saw my brother's matching black eyes and blood soaked white shirt. For a second I thought dad might have done it but then I quickly recollected.

Dad wasn't violent.

His eyebrows were drawn together tightly as he slammed the door to his car and strode into the house in long hard steps. A neighborhood patrol bike parked right behind his car and the man greeted Tiger as they both walked into the house. Under what seemed to be a conspiratorial short exchange of words.

The energy in the house could have been measurable only if it were tangible. It cut sharply and I could sense something profound-perhaps even more so than at the stadium -was happening. Determined not to miss out on anything I slid on a random sweater to cover my bare torso and slid down the stairs quietly to eavesdrop.

Hidden in the shadows I watched my dad enter through the living area in a fuming rage of terror.

To his left were most of the youth adorned in Keffa pride wristbands, caps, jackets and other apparel. Most of them had their arms crossed over their heaving chests, poised for an argument. To his right were a few parental figures that mostly consisted of thirty something year olds. The women rubbed their tear stricken eyes all in a tormented kind of silence.

Behind my dad Tiger strode inside the house, the patrol officer beside him.

Dad turned around and grabbed him by his face and turned it, this and that way examining the open wounds on it. Then he turned to the crowd asking...no demanding to hear what had happened.

Silence!

He grabbed Dylan: Tiger's best friend's Keffa pride red and blue jacket's collar and demanded an answer again with fierce auburn anger. Dylan began trembling and wailing before he was guided to take his seat by his controversial fiancé.

Dad turned to the crowd and asked again.

Silence!

Just before he demanded again the patrol officer finally stepped forward and didn't say much besides, "The Burris did this. We were peacefully protesting in first street but...." he paused looking at Tiger. "The President allowed his people to fire at us and do this to us." He gestured to his bloody face, Tiger's and some of the youth's battered and bruised bodies.

"The first teargas was shot in the stadium by Multi blood. Not to mention, the stadium is not in first street, where the protest was to take place. Do you not agree that that is not provoking them?" My father used a stern tone, hands spread wide and shaking with rage.

"The gas was only after they had already killed eleven of us in first street. Considering that they are free to do this anytime they want should we have barred more necks for them to cut?" Tiger asked. "For how long will turning the other cheek do us any favors huh?"

My father stared sharply at him, nodded but I could tell there was no understanding in his face. My heart picked up speed I couldn't predict his next move but it couldn't be good for everyone. Especially my brother. The patrol officer lowered his cap to reveal a strong familiar face, remembrance settled. He was one of the founders of the Heritage School.

An illegal but tolerated little place that offered a formal education to those -which was ninety nine percent of Keffas - that hadn't been approved for formal school by the government. Heritage school also offered those of us in formal schools after school lessons. For classes in history that ranged from as far back as the 1400s and on topics that had been shed from our school's curriculum.

The school also offered other classes in things like combat, surveillance and the like to any volunteers fifteen and above. Tiger and some of the other guys at the school rarely conducted academic lessons personally. Instead they mostly gave their time to extracurricular activities my father wasn't fond of at all and called 'gandanga shenanigans'.

"We're doing this for the kids Mr. Yorush." the rebel leader said.

Everyone including me watched with bated breaths.

"What have I told you about these protests Thamalow?" Dad seethed, ignoring the rebel leader.

"It's Tiger." he replied slow but sure. "I love you Dad but now more than ever I don't want to live a selfish life especially when I know there's nothing in the future for Zhavia and more like him to go on for. I can't." he stared at Dad, in the eye and finished. "I know your rules perfectly well. So first thing in the morning I will move out. If it's what I have to sacrifice to fight the Burri regime then so be it."

"Language!"

Tiger stepped up with the amount of stubbornness and confidence he'd inherited from our Dad. "They call us Keffa; I don't see you correcting them! The Burris did this, they turned a peaceful protest into this!!" He gestured to his face and many other battered faces and broken bodies in the crowd. "And this is why this won't be the end. I will call them Burris until they stop calling us Keffa."

It wasn't just me; I witnessed my mother and his best friend Dylan shudder at his disrespect.

Dad smiled but there were no lines of him meaning the gesture on his eyes. "Why wait till tomorrow, you can leave now and live freely as a goon. Isn't that what you want son? To become a Gandanga? Hmm Thamalow?"

Mom choked on her tears.

The crowd gasped.

I froze.

Tiger flinched; he was surprised I could tell. "Fine. And It's Tiger." He reminded then he came upstairs.

I ran to his room which was beside mine.