A Dance With The Enemy

I felt the ground tilt beneath me as I struggled against the hand gripping my wrist. My other hand brushed against something. A chair? A desk? I couldn’t tell in this chaos. The smoke stung my eyes even through the fabric tied on it, my lungs screamed, but I forced myself to stand upright. Then I heard it. A scream; low, desperate, filled with pain. My father. He was close. I tried to move toward the sound, but the grip on my wrist tightened, twisting me back. “Stay still!” the voice snarled at me. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Not fast enough. Not strong enough. I was blindfolded, fumbling, powerless. Then, my captor’s punch came as a heavy weight slammed into me. Pain exploded in my side. I gasped, choking on smoke and fear. My father’s voice came again, closer this time, pleading, commanding, angry. And then… a shot. I dropped to my knees. My hands scraped the floor. My head spun. A burning, screaming part of me wanted to run, to find him, to grab him, to hold him. But there was nothing I could do. I was trapped, blind, helpless. And then the footsteps. Quick, heavy, leaving the room. Silence. Absolute silence, except for the thunderous pounding of my own heart. I whimpered. Just a little. The shame of it burned hotter than the pain in my side. I shouldn’t have been this weak. I shouldn’t have been so terrified. But I was. And I would never forget it. Somewhere beyond the darkness, I heard a voice I thought I’d never hear again — my father’s. Faint, broken, distant. Then nothing. I was alone. The blindfold slipped slightly as someone moved past me. The rough grip on my arm vanished. My hands shook, clawing at the fabric covering my eyes. I ripped it free and gasped at the sight of fire licking the walls, sparks drifting like embers of the life I’d known. And then I saw him. Not clearly, but I saw a shadow, a flicker of silver at his wrist. The silver cufflink. The same presence that had haunted my nightmares since that night. I wanted to scream at him, to curse him, to demand answers. But the smoke choked me. My lungs burned. My father… my father was gone. I rushed to my father and tried to wake him up. Maybe this was all a dream, seeing my father in his own pool of blood; motionless. This had to be a dream. But the decorative chandelier burning with flames fell from the ceiling to remind me that this was reality. I started to drag my father’s body. I believed I could still save him. I could call for help, he’s not dead. No, I refuse. In milliseconds, more and more things started to fall from the ceiling onto the ground, engulfing the room in more flames all around. With my shirt pulled up to cover my nose, I was determined to give this final push my last strength and we’d be out of this burning inferno…when the godforsaken wood from the ceiling fell on top of Papa’s body. I pulled with hot tears in my eyes but he wouldn’t budge. The burning wood was too strong. My failing strength was nothing compared to it, so I was prepared to die in the flames. My father was all I had. —————————————————————— “Hello. Hello, can you hear me?” a gentle male voice called out. I opened my eyes to gradually take in the view of that dreadful night. A view that would eventually become my nightmare. My whole life was in this house, burning away like a giant campfire. I felt that sharp pain in my side while trying to sit up. Then, I remembered immediately…Papa. “My father is in there. I need to bring my father. Can’t you hear me?! He’s in there.” I shouted with raw pain and tears choking my voice. The male voice turned out to be a paramedic. “The firefighters barely managed to bring you out alive. I’m not sure there’s anyone else in there.” he said while still holding me down with two other assistants so that I could be strapped. “No! My father is still there. Let me go.” I tried to wiggle myself out but hands pressed me back against the stretcher, the straps tightening across my chest. I tried to lift my head, but the motion sent pain spiraling through me. “We found a body!” A voice bellowed from afar. That was one of the firemen who were trying to extinguish the fire. Everything in me went still. “We’ve got one unresponsive!” the man called out again to alert everyone. Paramedics rushed towards the voice’s direction, their gloves snapping on, checking for a pulse. A moment later, I heard another voice. Quieter. “Time of death, 23:47.” The words sliced straight through the noise The compound fell silent except for the fire still burning and the sirens blaring in the distance. I didn’t see the body. I didn’t have to. The way their voices fell with the sudden hush that followed, it told me everything. My father. The siren faded into a low hum. The world tilted, without warning. My hands began to shake uncontrollably; my teeth wouldn’t stop chattering though I wasn’t cold. The edges of the ambulance blurred. The paramedic’s lips moved, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. All I could hear was that voice; time of death, 23:47. A hollow calm settled over the panic that was previously rampaging in my body. If he was gone, then someone had to pay. I made no sound. No scream, no cry. Only a silent promise that boiled in my heart that whoever did this would bleed bitterly for it. The trembling spread through my body until even the light above me pulsed in and out of focus. Everything drifted away…the siren, the smoke, the faces…until there was nothing but darkness and that vow echoing in my chest. But before the darkness swallowed me whole, I saw him. Christopher Valente. Or maybe it was just my mind playing tricks, summoning the one face I never thought I’d see again. The man who had once held me like the world couldn’t move without me. The man I’d loved before everything turned to ash.