Reap

My brother laughed at our little sister as he stayed in his position beside us and Zoya nodded her head meaningfully. Her eyebrows pulled together and she asked, “Who are the men?”

I tapped the end of her nose. “Papa’s friends.”

“Ohhh,” she replied, “so they’re my friends, too?”

My brother this time sat up. His face was serious. “Yes, they’re your friends, but just be careful, okay, Zoya. They’re dangerous men.”

Her face was serious and she nodded her head, repeating, “Friends, but be careful. They’re dangerous.”

“Yes,” I said, but that hollow feeling was back in my stomach. The three of us walked back toward the house, Zoya in my arms.

Her finger pointed to my face. “One, two, three,” she counted tapping the side of my left cheek.

“What are you doing?” I asked. She prodded my upper cheek.

“One, two, three,” she repeated, “the moles beside your eye.”

She reached out and put her hand on our brother’s face. “You don’t have them.”

“No,” he said, reaching out and tickling her ribs. Our sister screamed and laughed until our brother stopped and ruffled her black hair.

“It’s okay,” she said, and tapped his shoulder. “He has one for each of us.” She pointed to me, “one,” then pointed to herself, “two,” then pointed to our brother, “three.” She nodded her head proudly. “One mole for each of us.”

I turned her face to look at me. “And what about the babies? What about your other brother and sister? I don’t have five moles. I don’t have enough for all of us.”

She scowled. “Uh-uh. They’re babies. They cry and cry.” She put one of her hands on my face and one on my brother’s. “You’re mine. My big twin brothers. The babies have each other. Papa said when you’re big and strong you’ll protect me and no one will hurt me because you’ll scare them all away.”

My brother moved over and whipped her from my arms. He threw her in the air and she squealed. He pulled her to his chest, kissed her on her cheek, and said, “And that’s true. We’ll always protect you.”

“I know,” she said smugly, and pointed that little finger between the three of us again. “One, two, three … Zoya, Zaal, and An—”

I gasped and my eyes snapped open. I lurched forward. Sweat poured from my body. My hands were shaking. I looked down at my hands, they wouldn’t stop shaking. I blinked and blinked and searched for air, the little girl’s words circling my mind.…

One, two, three. Zoya, Zaal, and An—

Pain stabbed behind my eyes as I tried to remember more. I shouted out in frustration. The pain blocked something in my mind, something I wanted to remember.

You’ll forget them all, Master’s voice ordered. A chain whipped along my back, hands tied behind my back as I hung off the wall. You’re mine. You have no past, no family, no other thought than to kill. You’re a killer. You’ll kill for me. Only me.

“Zaal?” Talia’s soft voice suddenly cut into my racing mind. Her hand landed on my shoulder. I closed my eyes, trying to use it to calm.

I could feel her moving beside me. Suddenly, she spread her legs over my lap and placed her palm on my cheek. “Shh…” she soothed. “It was only a dream. You’re safe, you’re here with me.”

Papa said when you’re big and strong you’ll protect me and no one will hurt me because you’ll scare them all away.

“Zaal!” Talia pushed, and raked my damp long hair back from my face. “Look at me. Please.”

I did as she ordered and locked on to her brown eyes. I swallowed and asked, “Who am I?”

Talia froze, her face paling. I slipped my hands on her bare waist and asked again, “Talia. Who am I?”

“Zaal,” she whispered. I shook my head.

“No!” I released my hands and gripped the side of my head. “In my head. Pictures, people. Who are they?” I pulled my hand into a fist and hit it against my chest. “Who am I? Zaal? Who is Zaal?”

Talia’s hand on my face began to shake, but she was frozen on my lap. My heart began to pound. It was too fast, beating too fast. Talia knew something.

“Zaal,” she whispered. Fear in her voice.

My stomach churned. I’d made her upset again. I didn’t want Talia to be upset.

Pressing my forehead against hers, I asked, “Why do you get upset? Why do you always get sad over me?”