Then
“This is so perfect,” Kesi smiled blissfully, holding her newborn child in her arms, She gazed lovingly into her baby’s warm amber eyes as Tarik sat beside her, softly stroking the child’s tiny hand. Her tiny fist grabbed hold of his finger, and he laughed joyfully. He had never been so happy in his life before. He had never known he was capable of feeling such strong emotions for one single person. Tarik had always imagined himself as a pacifist; someone who could never hurt another human being. But in that moment he knew that he would do absolutely anything for her. He would kill for her if he had too. And that thought scared him more than anything else. He would kill for her.
“What should we name her?” Tarik asked carefully removing his fear from his mind. Kesi looked down once more at her child and the baby blue blanket she was wrapped in. “It should have a meaning.” he continued.
“Lets call her…Amala. It means hope in Arabic,” Tarik nodded. He knew the real reason why that particular name was so important to Kesi. It was her mothers name and he knew how much Kesi’s mother had meant to her. Almost as much as Amala meant to him right now.
“Amala it is then,” he agreed and took Kesi by the hands. He leant in to kiss her, but never got further than centimetres from her cheek.
“Freeze!” They smashed down the door, leaving it splintered and rotten lying on the cold, stone floor. One by one, they ran orderly inside the tiny room and halted sharply right in front of Kesi. Amala started to whimper, but Kesi barely noticed. She just held Amala closer to her chest in fright.
Tarik grabbed one of the men by his pristine blue uniform, ripping a shining golden button off. The men laughed harshly, and the one he had grabbed, knocked him savagely to the floor unconscious.
Each in turn, they pulled off their masks, which had covered their entire faces. Kesi gasped as she recognized the faces. How was this happening? She had been so careful. She hurriedly tried to conceal Amala underneath the bedcovers but not before the men saw. She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, as she began to speak so quietly it was barely audible.
“How did you find me here?” she whispered, her voice shaking with fear. “My father sent you didn’t he?” It wasn’t so much a question, as a statement. She didn’t need to know the answer. She already knew.
One man stepped forward. A complete stranger to most, known only as The Black Rider, someone never to be trusted or helped, but to Kesi he was a man she had grown up with and trusted like a brother. Loved like she loved Tarik.
He had a large scar going straight across one cheek that had been there for as long as he could remember. His grey eyes were carved into a permanent look of hatred, his black hair left falling around his thin face. He didn’t appear to have taken much care of himself in these last few years. Not since Kesi had left him.
“So it’s true is it Kesi?” he hissed sourly, directing himself not at Kesi but at Amala. “This is the precious daughter of the great Kesikra Adebele Hakemanssh, is it?”
‘Why are you here Zahur?” she couldn’t bring her eyes to look at him. He sharply grabbed her by the throat and lifted her face to him. She attempted to turn her face away, but he was a lot stronger than she had remembered. She laughed scornfully to herself. Of course he was. It had been three years since she had seen him. The tears began to run down her cheeks as the lack of oxygen started to get to her.
Without warning, he suddenly let go of her throat. She gulped for air, her eyes stinging. He turned away, and spoke to his men, “Come on, let’s go.” They all began to walk out, as Kesi heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed her firm hold around Amala. They were going to leave them alone. It was all going to be okay.
Just as Zahur reached the already knocked down wooden door, he spun around and laughed viciously. “Oops,” he grinned, displaying his large pearly white teeth, almost glowing in the moonlight. They were sharp as daggers, pointed and deadly. “Almost forgot this.”
He made a sudden dash towards Kesi and Amala. Kesi froze on the spot, unable to move as she realised what Zahur was about do. Her eyes widened but still she did not move as Zahur grabbed the wailing baby from her arms and ran.
Tarik awakened only afew moments later, and leapt to his feet ready to fight. But he found no men, no baby, and a completely blank Kesi.
“Kesi? What happened?” he said quietly, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
Kesi looked straight past Tarik, her eyes barely acknowledging him. She didn’t answer, only stared blankly into space as if she didn’t even know what was happening. Her eyes were expressionless, her body rigid and unmoving. Tarik could see something was wrong. Very wrong.
“They took her Tarik,” she murmured, gazing at the empty blanket still lying in her shivering arms. He stepped forward and took hold of her hand. She shook him off, and looked away from him.
“Who took her Kesi? What happened?”
“My baby. They took my baby Tarik.” She looked so bewildered and confused, that it almost annoyed Tarik.
“Kesi, you have to tell me what happened. How else can I help?” he pleaded with her desperately.
Kesi looked down at her feet. For a second he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she looked up and said, her eyes brimming with tears, “You can’t do anything now.”
“Why not?” Tarik looked at her, but she looked away. He took hold of her face in his hands, and turned her to face him. When she still didn’t answer he repeated himself, louder this time “Why not Kesi?”
“It was..” she broke off mid sentence, then stared out the window, a single tear drop falling down her ghostly white cheeks. Tarik bit his lip. “It was my dad Tarik.”
Now
Chapter 1
“We’re going to get caught,” Kesi warned him, and Tarik began to move into position. He turned round to look at her.
“Don’t worry so much Kesi,” he grinned but it was clearly a forced smile, “It’ll be fine. What’s the matter? Don’t you want to get food? Do you want us to starve? Is that it?”
Kesi just looked at him. He hadn’t been the same since that night Amala had been taken. Since then, he had been so much more violent and uncaring. Not towards her, but just in general. He was now a much colder person. Not the friendly loving boy who used to cry at sad films and spent hours in his garden, drawing the landscapes. Not the boy who told her they would always be friends, and he would never leave her. No, someone else had taken his place now. A complete stranger to Kesi.
“Of course I do,” she laughed unconvincingly, “Come on lets go.”
Tarik took his place, out of sight on the busy market place, as Kesi walked forward to an old man selling fruit on a stall. She smiled at him nervously, and he smiled back at her. Kesi could feel herself slipping. A little more every day. But Tarik hadn’t even noticed. Was this really how they were going to spend the rest of their lives? Searching, and looking for someone who they would almost definitely never see again?
“Um, can I have five melons please?” she asked, and as the man began to pack everything into a bag for her, Tarik took his chance. He dashed silently behind the stall and grabbed a whole pile of food off it. The man didn’t even notice. He was still talking to Kesi about his life and work, and packing the fruit. Tarik began to run.
“Go, Kesi,” he yelled behind him, and Kesi, much to the stall owner’s surprise, began to speed after Tarik. But she barely got five centimetres.
The man grabbed her by the wrist, and shouted, “Stop!” after Tarik. Tarik turned, only to see Kesi being held at the stall. He looked around uncertainly, frozen to the spot. Everyone on the market place was looking at them, but not one person tried to stop him as he began to move at incredible speed back towards Kesi.
He skidded to a stop right in front of the stall owner. “Let her go,” he hissed at the man ferociously, but the man just laughed at him.
“Give me my food back, I’ll take you to the police, and let the girl go.” He replied to Tarik, who instantly reacted.
He pulled something out of his jacket. Kesi couldn’t see what it was, but she could guess. A vicious weapon, which could easily take a man’s life in one simple shot. A weapon he had promised he would never use; promised it was only there to scare people. A gun.
People all around the stall started screaming as they saw the pistol. Tarik didn’t even hear. And if he did, he obviously didn’t care. The man held his grip on Kesi even tighter. She could feel his wrinkled fingers digging sharply into her wrist, but she couldn’t see what was going on. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes. Wasn’t it better to keep her eyes closed tight and imagine everything was fine, rather than open them and know that nothing was?
A single shot went off. The man’s clasp softened, and a few seconds later Kesi heard a thump, as something large and heavy hit the floor. Everything went silent, and she cautiously opened one eye. She reeled back in horror as she saw what had fallen. The stall owner’s dead body was lying on the floor beside her, his eyes open wide in shock. A hole where the bullet must’ve hit him went straight through his forehead, matting his silvery-grey hair down with blood. She looked away in disgust, and trembling unease. It can’t have been Tarik. There was no way. He wasn’t capable of doing anything this, this heartless.
She turned slowly and anxiously to face him. He was standing straight in front of her and the dead body; the gun raised pointing towards them. His entire body was splattered in the deepest red blood. The blood of the man he had killed. Kesi searched desperately across his face for a look. A look of repulsion, fear, even satisfaction would’ve been something. But there was nothing. His face was completely blank. He hadn’t felt a thing.
For a second everything stood still, as if time had simply stopped, as Kesi frantically tried to take in what had just happened. But then time started again, and everyone began to shout and shriek in alarm. Someone grabbed her by the arm, and she spun around. It was Tarik.
“Come on, we have to get out of here,” he warned her, and grabbed her hand tightly as they began to sprint out of the marketplace. They were almost at the exit, when Kesi tripped over something, and fell to the floor. Her hands were scratched and bleeding where she had fallen on them, but she didn’t even realise as she hastily attempted to get up again.
Tarik’s eyes opened wide, as he stared straight past Kesi. He was saying something, but Kesi couldn’t make out the words. His lips were moving, but no sound came out. She turned around to see what he was looking at, and then a large hand covered her mouth and everything went dark.
Chapter 2
Amala sat in the large, almost royal looking library, watching her Grandfather organise his books. He was always with his books nowadays. He didn’t really have much time for Amala. Not right now. Not since that mysterious call he had received only a few weeks ago. Amala had overheard him talking to someone-he had called him the Black Rider. But when she had asked him about it, he had simply shook his head and told her she should not worry about things that did not concern her. But she had a lot of worries at the moment. And she needed some answers.
“Grandfather?” she asked, gazing up at him questioningly.
“Yes Amala?” he replied, not even looking at her as he spoke. He continued to pull certain books from the bookshelf, and place them on a large, purple velvet chair. She studied him carefully for a second and bit her lip.
“Why don’t I live with my parents?” He put down the red leather bound book he was holding and sighed. He had known this day would come ever since Amala had come to live with him.
“You’re only ten Amala. Are you sure you really want to know?”
Amala nodded unconvincingly, and her Grandfather sighed again. He smiled secretly to himself, then began to tell her the truth. Or his version of the truth anyway.
“Your mum never wanted you. From the moment you were born she hated you. She had never loved your dad, and she thought it was the biggest mistake of her life letting you be born.” He paused for a second, before continuing, “One day, when you were just three months old I came to visit you two. But I saw…” he broke off mid-sentence. Amala looked at him worriedly, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she began to speak.
“Tell me Grandfather, you have to tell me what you saw. I need to know.” She pleaded with him.
“Do you really want to here this Amala?” he looked at her sincerely and anxiously. He would’ve made a terrific actor.
She nodded and so he carried on “So like I said, I came to visit you, maybe take you off her hands for a while so she could relax and when I got there, there were no lights on in your house. I ran inside only to find your mother sitting on the floor, splattered in blood. In her hand was a knife, and lying next to her was you. You weren’t breathing. I quickly hurried you to hospital and they only just managed to save you. Your mother tried to kill you Amala.”
He stopped and looked at Amala’s face. Her eyes were open wide as saucers. Despite the sultry, scorching weather beating down upon them, she was shivering. She stood completely still. He had expected her to cry. At least to have silent tears spilling over her cheeks, but she didn’t move an inch. All this time he had spent preparing himself for this question, the thousands of times he had gone over it in his head, he had never expected her to react quite so….blankly. Poor girl. She had no other life choice than what she was born with. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
Without warning, Amala dropped the diary clutched in her fist, and spun around fleeing as fast as the wind would allow her. He didn’t move, but still he could hear her feet pattering up the stairs. Not that it mattered to him. He may’ve been her Grandfather, but by blood only. This was the only way it could be done.
He had to wait the exact amount of time. Just a moment too soon could destroy everything. It had to be prefect. Five…four…three…two…one. It was time to go.
He walked briskly and solemnly up the shining white marble staircase, and marched along the scarlet hall that seemed to continue on forever. Past every golden statue, every magnificent painting until he finally reached the one door that did not blend perfectly with the décor of the rest of the house. On it’s door was a large whiteboard. Every day it would have different words on it. The shining mahogany door had been painted over in ghastly rainbow colours. Why was she always such a cheerful child? She didn’t get it from her mother, he knew that much. It must’ve been that filthy father of hers. A part of their family-how could his darling Kesi have ever chosen him?
He knocked softly on the door, and when Amala didn’t answer, he pushed the door open silently only to reveal an empty room. He punched the wall in frustration. She had slipped straight through his fingers. She had been in the perfect position. He had to find her. And soon.
Amala flung herself down onto the grass. She wanted to cry, but how to cry when she didn’t even know what to feel? It wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. Yet why else would he have said it? Not so much said, he had almost thrown it at her. Like he wanted her to hear; he wanted her to know. He wanted her to be upset.
She sat there, breathing in all the fumes of the flowers all around her. Daffodils, sunflowers, daisies, tulips. Every one of them so captivatingly cheerful. Each one of them a lie. Behind every thing that seemed peaceful and joyous, was the truth. The truth that however perfect they seemed, it was all a lie.
I hate you mother. You hear that? However much you hate me, it can never be nearly as much as I hate you right now.
“Are you all right Amala?” he suddenly appeared from nowhere, and sat beside her on the grass. Amala didn’t answer.
“Look, I understand how you must feel. It’s not every day you find out something like this. But I can help you. I can tell you the truth. And not lies or the truth watered down for you to handle. No, just the plain truth.”
Amala nodded emotionlessly, as if she couldn’t care less. Her Grandfather couldn’t understand it. She didn’t seem to be feeling…well anything. Only Amala could truly understand. And even she didn’t.
“Well I guess it all started when your mother was fifteen. She met your father whilst she was; well she was actually on a mission to destroy him. I know that sounds bad but you don’t understand what kind of man your father was. He was a murderer. He was involved in many different plots and schemes to try and kill me.”
“I don’t understand. Why would he want to kill you?” she turned her deadpan eyes onto him and he sighed.
“You have to remember Amala, I’m a very powerful man. Your father wanted my power, my money.” He paused, before continuing. “Anyway, a few months after they met, your mother announced that they were getting married. I couldn’t let it happen-he was only marrying her to get to me. But she believed he truly loved her. That backfired on her though.”
“What happened?” she whispered
“Well despite the fact that I had forbidden the marriage, your parents got married in secret. I guess they thought I wouldn’t figure it out. I didn’t for a while. Until your mother became pregnant with you. That’s when I realised what had happened.”
“So what did you do?”
“I hope it doesn’t upset you to hear this Amala, but I have to tell you I did beg your mother to have an abortion. I knew she was too young-she was only sixteen for God’s sake-but I never imagined she’s do anything like what she tried to do you.”
Amala looked up at him slowly. It was a lot to take in all at once. She could barely understand what her Grandfather was actually saying to her. She only knew one thing for certain. Her mother hated her. And she hated her mother too.
“So straight after he found out she was pregnant with you, he left. And after that he never returned. She was completely distraught-I guess that’s why she took it out on you.” He bowed his head, and looked away “I’m so sorry Amala.”
She stood up hurriedly, and looked from side to side. Her Grandfather had no idea what she was looking for. Maybe she didn’t either. Seeing that no one was around, she began to sprint towards the gate.
“Amala, come back!” he cried after her, but it was too late. The moment he knew she was out of sight he began to laugh. A cold savage laugh, that filled him all the way through with a feeling that he had just succeeded. She was almost his.
Chapter 3
“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” the judge sat at the bench, gazing down at Kesi scornfully over his gold-rimmed glasses. She nodded reluctantly. How could she tell the whole truth? They’d never believe her if she did.
“I…I do,” she murmured. She whispered it so soft and silently, it was a wonder anyone heard her. She looked around nervously. Sitting straight in front of her was the Judge. She couldn’t bear to look over that way. One glance at her frightened face, and she’d be found guilty for sure. Over to her left sat her lawyer. In his fancy business- mans suit, and his leather briefcase sitting neatly by his side, he certainly looked the part. What good was he really though? He had barely said one word to her since they had met, and she was pretty sure he didn’t much care if she was found guilty or not. And of course the worse thing to see of all. The fact that Tarik wasn’t there.
“Can you state your full name please?”
She though about it for a second, then decided it was a harmless question.
“Kesikra Adebele Seiko,”
“You may be seated,” he instructed, and Kesi sat, staring warily up at the Judge.
Where are you Tarik? You promised you’d be here.
“What were you doing yesterday afternoon, at three thirty am?” he asked her formally, sounding slightly bored. He already knew what she was doing-he just wanted to get home to his family.
“I- I don’t remember,” she stammered.
“Now come on Miss Seiko, we caught you at the scene of the crime. A man is dead. We already know that you’re guilty, so why don’t you just do us all a favour and confess now. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a short prison sentence-maybe as little as 30 to 40 years,” his eyelids drooped as he spoke. He was so tired. Why could they never do this the easy way?
“Well, yes, I was at the market, but I just got there and I heard shooting. So I tried to make a run for the exit, when I fell. And then the next thing I knew I was in a prison cell.” She spoke rapidly and anxiously, her eyes a look of pure panic. “I didn’t do anything, I promise,”
The Judge tapped his bony fingers on the large file in front of him. In a way he felt slightly bad for this girl. She wasn’t even very old, around twenty-five, twenty-six? He always got the hard ones.
“Miss Seiko, here we have a file of many different crimes being committed over the last ten years. Each and every one of them committed by a young man with dark brown hair. Always the same man, with always the same girl with him. A girl who looks suspiciously like you Miss Seiko.” He glanced down at the folder, then at Kesi once again, “Jet black hair. Ocean blue eyes. Cocoa coloured skin. Your size, your height, your exact looks. This is no coincidence Miss Seiko. I refuse to believe it. You are guilty.” With this last statement, he banged his fist down loudly upon the bench. He took a deep breath, and then breathed out again. He got to his feet. “Does the defendant have any closing comments?” Neither Kesi, nor her lawyer replied. The Judge took this to be a no. “Very well. The court will deliberate now.”
A policewoman walked briskly over to Kesi and handcuffed her hands behind her back. She caught the silver handcuff in one of Kesi’s cuts, and Kesi let out a small indignant scream of pain. The woman completely ignored her, and roughly yanked her though a narrow doorway. As they walked further and further down the cold stone hall, the voices got quieter. Kesi could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Why was he not here? He promised. He promised he’d never leave.
I guess that’s it then. People always break their promises.
Tarik had promised he’s never leave. Zahur had promised he would never hurt her. And her dad…years of broken promises. Every birthday forgotten, every Christmas spent with the servants. Each time he had promised next time would be different. Next time he’d promised. Next time he’d make it better. That just showed you couldn’t trust anyone.
“Let me go!” Tarik screamed out, lashing violently towards…what was he aiming for? There was nothing there. But he could feel it in the air; someone was there, right in front of him, enveloped in the shadows all around.
He attempted to look around but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t see anything. Where was he? What was going on?
Everything was midnight black. Tarik couldn’t see a thing. The air surrounding him was stale and old, like no one had opened a window or door for years. He couldn’t move, but only because he was strapped to a chair.
Suddenly he remembered, “Kesi.” He gasped as he realised how he had left her there. Who knew where she was now.
“Why did you bring me here? Who are you?” he called out curiously into the darkness. He wasn’t really expecting an answer, but he got one anyway.
“You have to know the truth,” Tarik's head was swimming. The truth? What truth? And about what? He already knew everything. Everything he needed to know anyway.
“Is it Kesi? Is she okay?” he asked worriedly, his heart filling with dread as he thought of all the things that might’ve happened.
“Not Kesi.”
“What truth then? Is it about Amala? I have to find her. Please help me. Do you know where she is?”
“You can’t. Go home. It’s too late for her,” a voice whispered, but to Tarik it seemed as loud as if it had been shouted. Go home? After all this time? Just give up and leave? No way. No way in hell was he leaving her. Especially not if she was in danger.
“I can’t!” he cried out into the darkness, “I can’t go home. Is she allright?”
“Go home,” the voice repeated.
“I can’t. You don’t understand. I can’t leave her. I can’t let anything happen,” He begged with the anonymous voice, although why he was begging he didn’t know. It couldn’t make him do anything. It wouldn’t make her do anything.
“You let something happen before didn’t you?”
“No!” he yelled without warning, in a fit of frustration. This person, whoever it was, was really starting to creep him out. He quietened to a murmur, not so much talking to the voice, but to himself “ I didn’t mean too. It wasn’t my fault. I wanted to help.”
“Go home. You can’t help her now,”
“Shut up!” He screamed hysterically, his heart filling with rage “Can’t you say anything else?”
For a moment everything was silent, as Tarik looked around nervously. Not that he could see anything anyway. Had it gone? It certainly seemed as if no one would answer now. Maybes he had scared whoever it was off. Maybe they were gone. Maybe they were never even there. Maybe he had imagined it all. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He couldn’t be sure of anything right now. Until...
“Go home now. It’s already too late,”
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