Urquia

Chapter 24: The first tiny box

*Andrea POV*

This had been the most torturous week I've ever had. (See what I did there? I can be funny.)

In five days, I've managed to let "Patricia" torture two mafia men, two good werewolves, kill six bad wolves, and torture their leader. Oh, and do a temperament quiz on Alpha Nathan's ex.

I also had two best dates ever and even got the best kiss of my life! And man, what a kiss. I can still feel the pressure, the emotions, the softness... A soft sigh escaped me.

We got home in comfortable silence. Dad knows what I was going through, so he let me be. He was present, a witness of my despair, supporting me just by being there and letting me deal with all these fricking emotions. And I did what I've been doing since...ever. I felt the cold, dense weight of my pain, sorrow, regrets, and mixed emotions as I squished them into a tiny box and tucked it away in a drawer inside a dark closet. Next to my other tiny boxes. I closed it with a big lock and saved the key for when I wanted to deal with it.

That's how I've kept living without losing my s**t. Not that it was happening now; I wasn't losing my s**t just yet, but Nathan had me reacting in ways I've never thought I would ever react.

I thought about my first box.

When I was 10, we were in North Kazakhstan. Dad had a non-official rescue operation there; he and Mom disappeared for a few weeks. I was left with a nice couple who took care of me very well. They would teach me carpentry and let me play with the village kids at the park in front of their house.

On my second day there, I went to the park. I saw a little girl, about five years old, who didn't move at all. She had dirty clothes, wouldn't play with anyone; she just sat and stared at everyone playing.

I've seen that look before. That emptiness of the soul, her eyes like dull, vacant pools. Hopeless, defeated. I sat next to her. She didn't even acknowledge me, her gaze fixed on the children playing, yet seeing nothing.

We sat there for 5 hours, the silence between us heavy yet strangely comforting. When the sun was going down, she got up, began to walk home. I followed her.

She opened a door to an old, half-ruined house that was barely standing. The lights were on. When she turned to close it, our eyes locked. She barely narrowed her eyes, but I saw all the hatred, the pain she was in. I stayed there. I heard some obvious drunk, angry man shout curses in Russian and Kazakh. Ruffling. Furniture crashing. And then silence. I knew what was happening now, but I couldn't move.

I was so enraged I could feel my body heat increase, a burning hum under my skin. I could feel my surroundings, the cool night air sharpening against my face. I could pinpoint every rustle of leaves, every distant dog bark, the metallic tang of fear in the air, and see individual dust motes dancing in the dim light. That was my "first awakening," I guess. I felt stronger, faster, lethal.

Fifteen minutes later, a fat, sweaty, stinky, bald man came out, almost tripping. He was zipping his pants. He stopped when he saw me in front of the house. He looked at me, then at my body with his disgusting lustful eyes. Then stumbling a bit, he walked past me. She didn't go out after that.

Next day, I took my Glock 9mm Dad gave me for my birthday and my hunting knife, a rope, an orange juice, and a sandwich, all in my bag. I waited at the park for that little girl. Her clothes were dirty, with some bloodstains. I sat next to her.

-"Енді сен менікісің" (You are mine now).

I didn't know much Kazakh. I was more fluent in Russian, but in that moment, that was my promise to her. She was mine now, and nothing will ever change that. She turned her head to me, and we locked gazes. We just stayed there. Our eyes speaking for us, we didn't need words for our bond to form. She was my sister, my friend, my daughter, part of my soul. And I was hers. I really saw her, and she saw me. After hearing her stomach growl, I took the sandwich and gave it to her.

-"жеу, ішу" (eat, drink) that's all I said, and she did. We stayed there. Without a word, just looking at the kids playing, we waited.

Five hours later, she got up and looked at me. I nodded. I started going to her house, and she followed me. When we got there, she looked at me with her big eyes watering. As I got in front of the door, she took my wrist and shook her head frantically. I saw the terror in her eyes. I smiled at her and squeezed her hand, reassuring her that everything would be alright.

I entered the stinky house; the cloying, sickly sweet stench of stale alcohol, sharp ammonia of piss, and acrid vomit assaulted my nose. Bottles, cans, and shattered furniture crunched underfoot in what used to be the living room.

-"сука иди сюда" (b***h come here) The fat bald man shouted from his room.

Her eyes widened, and she looked panicked. I put a finger on my lips, shushing her and winking. I took out my gun, knife, and the rope. I gave her the rope. I signaled her to follow me. She did, trembling. I entered the room, and he was laying in a dirty mattress, only in boxers.

I almost gagged at the sight of that disgusting, sweaty, hairy man with a beer belly, his skin glistening with grime, the rank odor of unwashed flesh thick in the air.

My rage increased.

I knocked on the door, and he opened his eyes. He saw me and gasped. He didn't say a word. He was drunk, so his reactions were sloppy. Without taking my eyes off him, I signaled with my left hand for the little girl to come. She did, and although her breathing was fast, she knew I would protect her.

We got closer to him. He tried to sit, but I shook my head, and he stopped. I took my gun with my left and the knife with my right hand. I gave her the gun and pointed at his temple with her two little fingers on the trigger. He gulped, sweating like the pig he was. He tried to move, but my knife was already at his throat.

-"Stay," that's all I said.

I tied his wrists with his legs really tight. With his extremities together in the air, I tied them to the headboard. He was totally immobilized. He was cursing at me, trying to intimidate the little girl.

She looked at me from time to time, and I smiled at her. She stopped shaking, knowing we were in control and seeing he couldn't move. I cut his dirty underwear and stuffed it in his mouth really deep, but not enough to suffocate him, just enough to make it difficult for him to breathe.

I began to cut every single finger. All 20. He twisted, shook, screamed, while the blood was dripping on his arms, legs, fat belly, and his face. She looked, didn't react but pursed her lips. I then cut his eyes out and tongue. When I went to his exposed member, he had peed on himself, but I still took it and began to make little cuts. She then got next to me, looked me in the eyes, and handed me the gun. I gave her the knife, and she climbed the bed. She chopped it off, with her tiny boney hands; it was difficult, she had to use both hands, but she managed. She then stabbed him, again and again and again. Even with all the force she used, the knife didn't go too deep. Barely getting the tip through the surface. She stabbed him like a hundred times.

When she was done, I cleaned the knife with his leg, and went to the kitchen to clean it better and myself too. I helped her change into a different set of dirty clothes and offered her my hand. She took it, and we went to where I was staying. They asked me who she was, and I told them she's my sister. They tried to argue, but stopped when I gave them the deadliest look I had. I took her, bathed her, trying not to touch her tender bruises. She waited in the bathroom for me to shower. I gave her clean clothes, brushed her hair, and gave her food. I took her to my room, and She went to bed. Her eyes were open, so I put my arm under her head and brushed her hair with my fingers.

Then I hugged her. She cuddled against me and started sobbing, crying her soul out. I just waited for her to let it all out. She fell asleep still crying. After about 30 minutes she woke up sweating, scared. She saw I was awake, watching her, and she relaxed.

The whole week went by like that. She would stick to me like glue. No words, no reactions. Sometimes she flinched when the man that took care of me went too close, so I always was between them. I talked to her in English about our parents, our missions, translating every word to Kazakh or Russian. In the classes the woman gave me, she listened. We watched movies in English with subtitles. She was like a sponge. Absorbing everything around her, I could tell she was a genius. By the end of that week, she understood me well in English.

When my parents finally came, they hugged me tightly.

-"How was it?" I asked.

-"Perfect, baby," Daddy answered. I nodded. I looked at my Mom. She was silent but smiling.

-"Dad, Mom. I want you to meet my little sister." I said, looking blatantly at my dad's eyes.

Mom looked at me too, then at the little girl, who was looking only at me.

-"What's her name?" She asked me without taking her eyes off of her.

I've never asked, so I had no clue. Our gaze met, and I thought of a name.

-"Ummm...Cristina Atenea. If I have a second weird name, so do you, sis," I said, smiling.

And for the first time, she smiled back at me.

Mom approached her and dropped to her level.

-"Well, Cristina Atenea, you are my daughter now. Can I hug you?" She said with love in her eyes. Cris hesitantly nodded, and she hugged her.

-"Parents?" Dad whispered to me.

-"Father. He won't be a problem." I said, looking right at his eyes.

He nodded, smiling proudly.

He went to her but didn't get too close. He looked at her and smiled widely.

-"Well, kiddo, welcome to the Ben-Sharon family."

She didn't speak for a month. She only listened. We watched movies together all the time.

One day, during Terminator for the 8th time, I stood up and said -"I'm going to the bathroom, but don't worry I'll be back" with a deep voice.

And she answered -"Hasta la vista, baby".

I smiled at her, and from that moment, we would recite all our favorite movie lines to communicate. Mom and Dad too. That's how we got her to talk again.

I went to sleep cuddled up in a ball next to my mom. She was in my room taking care of baby Sam. Even when it was already 5 AM.