13
Avenger
I could have died. I could be six feet under the ground by now, joining my ancestors dance around in a circle as they worship a carrot or I don't know. Heck, I'm still alive. I've been taught not to fear death at the young age of 14. Death is inevitable, you never know when or how your life will be taken. You could suffer in the hands of an enemy, cruel and vicious. Or, you could die peacefully of old age and with your loved ones gripping your hand tightly as they shed their tears, while you reminisce on all the good you could've done in this world.
Death is inevitable. It can never be avoided. It can either haunt you or let you be.
"Vena..." Damocles poked a piece of beef between my lips. "You've got to eat." He pressed.
I now sat at the comfort of my bedroom. My cousin showed up with a tray in arms, filled with various food choices. The doctor gave me the okay signal after they monitored my body's behavior for a few days.
Papa took my hand in his, my petite hand looked like it belonged to a child's. "You have to eat to take your medicine, Darling."
I willed myself to take a bite. I felt... hollow. Someone had tried to kill me and I'm still alive. I just couldn't shake the thought off my mind. Why would they try to? Why would they even want to kill me?
"Vernamina, agapi̱méni̱," I turn my attention to my father. "We have to take care of business... Will you be fine on your own?" I nod.
"I'll be fine. I have my guards and Stavros should be here by now." Then the said man barged into my room with a bag of cheetos in hand. He cleared his throat before greeting the men in my family.
Papa pressed a soft kiss on my forehead, patting Stav's shoulder before taking his leave. My cousin mirroring his actions as he whispered something to Stavros. He slowly crept towards my bed, placing the plastic bag of junk food on top of my lap.
I craddled the bag in my arms like a child, "Hi." I greet him. His lips remained shut, ignoring me as if I've not said a word. Instead, he opens my cheetos for me. Bringing a piece to my lips. I chewed the piece he offered.
"How are you feeling?" his thick voice filled with worry and softness.
"I'm okay."
"Do you want anything?"
"I want you." I toyed. He smirked. "But, a glass of lemonade would suffice." I mocked a sigh and crossed my arms.
"Okay."
He stood up and fished for his phone. He talked lowly into the device. I assume he's ordering one of his soldiers to fetch me a lemonade. I took this as an opportunity to scan his features. I want to imprint his face in my mind, so I'd never forget a single detail. I wanna memorise even his slight imperfections.
My eyes trailed to his emerald orbs down to his broad shoulders. He's a feast for a woman's eyes. He looked like he was made to be on a magazine; Especially with his outfit today, he wore a maroon button down shirt. The taupe colored slacks did wonders in defining his firm butt. My eyes suddenly met with his.
Shit. He caught me. I thought to myself. I avert my gaze elsewhere, grabbing the TV remote to lessen the tension.
"Good evening New York. it's 7:06 PM; Wednesday, July 17th. My name is Olivia Raven. Our story today is about a 3 year old toddler found dead after being rapped by an Elderly man. The child's parents say that they haven't seen her in 12 days before finding their daughter sat on their front porch, lifeless. Live on the scene is our reporter, Eleonora Styles. Good evening, Eleonora."
My blood boiled with anger. How could someone be this cruel? the child hadn't even got the chance to live her life to it's fullest.
My mattress sunk as Stavros sat at the empty space in my bed. "And they blame it on clothes." he scoffs.
It's the harsh reality. I'm a firm believer that women should be able to roam free, without worrying of what they wear, without having to carry a taser every where we go. It's unfair. It's disgusting that people are out there defending their rapist mindset, telling girls to watch what they wear or they might "invite" the beast if they wore "provocative" clothing. Disgusting.
People still get harrassed, regardless of the clothing they choose to wear. Society always dictates what we get to wear, when will it teach people not to rape? My mother may have been a lot of things but she never taught me that I shouldn't wear this or that. She always told me, "it's not your problem if men can't keep it in their pants."
"You want to avenge her, don't you?" Stavros bursts my bubble of thoughts.
"As much as I wish to..."I sigh, we can't interpose with the police's investigation. We could never be too cautious. Our family names have been plastered with a red target the day my father decided to join in.
"I own people." of course he does.
I shook my head at his stubborness. There's not much we could do. He couldn't kill the suspect, you couldn't kill a man that's not harmed a family member. We barely knew the little girl.
I raise a brow, "You can't kill-"
"Oh darling, who said I was going to kill?" he mirrored me, he rose a brow. "Liebes, you wound my profession."
He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. I lean into his touch.
"You're like a little cat," he chuckles. "My kitten."
"I'm not a cat. I don't like cats, I like dogs better."
He stills, blinking twice before releasing out a laugh. "Okay, you're my little pup then." I huff, I'm no dog. "Why don't you bark for me, pup?" he toyed, a smirk lined his lips.
Blood crept up my cheeks, "No!"
"So... about my offer. Do you wanna avenge her?"
"Yes." I answer without thinking.
Shit. I've got to work on that. And, I never got my lemonade.