Burning Vengeance: Continued
Chapter 5
The day brought noise and bustle to the hospital, the usual clamor now louder, messier. Patients, visitors, nurses, and doctors blended in a colorful mass, filling the white-blue surroundings.
Hurrying down the corridor, Chaz folded the hospital gown she was rushing to a new patient. With quick and effortless footsteps, so light it was as if she didn't even touch the ground, Chaz fixed the clothing without even looking down. Her hands moved instinctively, as she knew every motion by heart.
Suddenly her eyes caught a glimpse through one of the hospital door windows, seeing the red-headed patient dozing off in her bed. Her face wrapped in white bandages, she looked better, though her skin was pale and lips colorless.
Swallowing and putting up a kind smile, Chaz opened the door, peeking inside.
"How are you feeling today?" she asked and walked inside. She took out her form and a pen, pretending to be checking on her.
"I'm okay," the woman replied and glanced at her. Chaz could see her burnt skin peeking through the gaps of bandages - the red blisters turning white while healing.
"You didn't need an operation," Chaz smiled. "That's really great."
"I'm lucky," the patient scoffed ironically and pinned her eyes on the ceiling.
A bottle of sedatives lay on her bedside table. It seemed like the nurse had just given her
one, and she was now calmer, slowly drifting off to sleep.
"Does it hurt?" Chaz asked casually while acting like she was checking off something in her notebook.
"Not anymore, thanks to the meds," she murmured. "But it hurt like hell at first. I thought I was going to die."
"You were in bad condition when they brought you here," Chaz agreed, trying to naturally make the conversation flow toward the direction she aimed. "Only the most horrible people can do something like that."
"Hmm..." the patient hummed like a song fading away on the radio, her eyes closing. "Do you know who did this to you?" Chaz continued carefully.
But the woman glanced at her as though Chaz had woken her up by hitting drums. Her gaze was momentary but sharp as though she had figured out Chaz's intentions immediately. Her eyes returned to the ceiling in a second, and she pursed her lips.
"If you didn't see their faces, maybe you recognized their voices?" Chaz still continued. "It could help the police find them." But the patient's lips stayed pursed, her eyes on the ceiling, her expression stubborn and stern.
Chaz sighed, realizing that she wasn't going to get any answers. She fixed the woman's blanket, feeling her gaze following her motions.
"Rest," she said and walked to the door.
Opening it, Chaz looked back one more time, locking eyes with the patient who watched her. And Chaz felt like she saw hints of pleading in her gaze - as if Chaz were to ask again, she'd answer. But before she could open her mouth, the patient closed her eyes.
Chaz ducked her head and silently walked out, aware of how hard opening up to people was after being hurt. She knew this feeling well. Even though she had left her hometown with her parents years before, she remembered all the bullying and torture everyone had made her go through for being different, for not wanting to be a boy. Chaz squeezed her eyes shut as the sharp voice calling her "sick" pierced her mind; the images came flooding back: elderly ladies singing chants, making her pray and drink strange herbal teas to cure her “illness.” But then the visions of her parents hugging her and drying her tears warmed her heart. She had moved far away, the torture had stopped, but her soul needed more time to heal.
Chaz exhaled deeply and forced a smile before entering the hospital room.
Chapter 6
Cam stared at the dark coffee pouring into her mug, the workplace din muffling around her as her mind drifted away. She could feel her palm burning, clasped around the cup as the hot drink filled it, but the daze casting down her mind softened her senses. All she could think about was the new victim and Eugene's terrified eyes - she could see the terror he had witnessed in them.
"You'll burn your hand!" The hoarse, annoyingly high-pitched voice snapped her out, and Cam saw her coworker, another police officer standing next to her, clicking the coffee machine to turn it off. "It was about to pour over your hand." Cam pushed the mug aside and felt her palm stinging.
'Yes, thanks," she glanced at the man looking down at her. His eyes pinned on her face as he smiled, shaking his head.
"You can thank me over dinner." She wanted to sigh and rush out of the kitchen but suppressed the urge. "I already told you, James," Cam curved her lips with a fake smile. "I can't." "Why, you are single, right?" James shrugged. "What's the big deal?" "I don't have time or energy for dating right now," Cam bit her lower lip to hide the frustration. "Come on, it will be fun," James pleaded. Cam looked through the open door revealing the busy office. Police were going back and forth dressed in dark blue uniforms and hats, some with golden stars on their shoulders, some carrying a gun. She wondered what expression their faces would make if she exposed she was lesbian. Maybe they wouldn't even care; maybe they would ignore this fact just like other irrelevant personal facts of coworkers. But what if the opposite happened? What if they sneered and scowled, turned their back on Cam, and avoided her, making her an outcast? She remembered her boss, the middle-aged man, and his remark on one of the thieves they had arrested a week before.
"Prison shouldn't be such a terrible place for him, hm?" He had snickered under his thick gray mustache. "Surrounded by so many men, it’ll be a paradise for him."
Cam swallowed her anger and turned to James, whose blabbering had turned into a hazy cloud. "I have to get back to work," she said and grabbed the mug.
She could feel James’ eyes fastened on her back like parasites, and she suppressed a shiver before sitting at her desk. Instinctively taking a sip of her coffee, she felt the bitter liquid turning her throat sore, as if the toxins she felt in the atmosphere had seeped into her coffee too.
Putting up her invisible shield to mute out the noise, Cam checked her message again and typed the car plate number in the search program she and her coworkers had access to. The loading circle turned a few times before the name popped up on the screen. She quickly sent the information on her phone.
Lia and Munir had flopped on the couch with the laptop in Lia's lap as Munir's phone chimed. Her eyes ran over the text message.
"Ebrima Reza," Munir read aloud. "Should be around 35 years old, male."
Nodding, Lia quickly typed the name into her laptop, pushing the glasses closer to her eyes.
"Let's see if we can find something on him," she said and grabbed the mouse.
Google turned up a hundred photos of different people, but Lia quickly scrolled through the colorful pictures before clicking on an image of a dark-haired man with his arm around another's shoulder as they both wore aprons, seemingly celebrating opening up a dining place.
"He doesn't have an Instagram," Lia licked her lips. "But he has Facebook."
The women's eyes landed on a social media account where Ebrima had posted photos of the same few people over and over in different surroundings, sharing some thoughts on songs or his travel plans. But mostly, his account was full of pictures of him and people who looked like him: one of them, five or six years younger than Ebrima, looked so much like him, like a younger and more smily version of him.
"Must be his brother," Munir concluded.
"But Ebrima stopped posting his brother's photos around six months ago," Lia said and scrolled through the photos. "See? No brother. What happened? Everything else is the same."
Munir and Lia shared a confused look, lost with this new information.
Chapter 7
Patients had settled into their rooms, muffled sounds of snoring and murmuring in sleep reaching through the doors, filling the atmosphere.
Sitting in a plastic chair, Chaz had crossed her legs, filling out blanks for some of the new patients. She could feel the fatigue surging through her veins, flowing with her blood. Her bones creaked, and her eyes stung. The image of her bed, waiting for Chaz to be wrapped up in the blankets and sunk in the fluffy pillows, floated in her mind like an oasis. She felt her body slowly shutting down.
Sighing, she glanced at her watch. Still, one hour was left for her shift to end. Soon, the sun would peek from behind the horizon, the reddish glow would pour onto the city, the streetlights would dim, and the empty streets would turn noisy again. The orange sky would be cast with gray smog of smoke and pollution, and people would stain their organisms with cheap, instant coffee. And then, finally, Chaz would go home and sleep.
Suddenly, loud thuds reached her from the nearby room. Startled, she pricked her ears and put down the pen: the thuds repeated, now louder and harsher, and soon something shattered on the floor, followed by yelling and shouting of inaudible words.
Chaz sprung from her seat, looking around for help, but the nurses had scattered, and only a few visitors were lingering in the hallway.
As the stifled screams repeated, Chaz stopped looking around and ran toward the room. The closer she got, the clearer the shouts became and the noise of things bumping into each other - a sign of struggle as if an animal was trying to break out of a cage.
She barged inside without hesitation, horror mounting as she saw someone leaning over the patient, choking her. Chaz immediately recognized the face-burnt patient, who was desperately grasping an assaulter's hands that wrapped tightly around her neck. Her face had turned red like her hair, eyes popping from the sockets, veins bulging under the skin. The attacker, dressed in all black, looked like a shadow growing over the woman's head as if stepping out of the wall and materializing. But he was a human, a man, trying to kill the patient while twisting her neck with all his strength, feeling her bones creaking under the tight grip.
"Stop!" Chaz screamed with a shrill voice and dashed to the bed.
The man seemed to only now notice the nurse, immersed in the anger and aggression, finally snapping out of the daze. He stepped back, watching Chaz, who opened her arms, trying to catch him. But the man slipped through her arms like a snake between river rocks and dashed to the door.
Huffing from panic, Chaz stepped forward to follow the man but heard the patient gagging behind her. She turned instinctively, seeing the woman gasping and trying to breeze while still holding her neck.
"Oh god," Chaz ran to her, sobbing from the pressure, fear and horror. "Help! We need help!" She screamed.
Dark purple bruises were already forming on the woman's neck, the trails of strong fingers still tainting her skin, marks of nails leaving bloody cuts. Her face had turned whiter than a sheet of paper, and her eyes red as if all the blood had accumulated in them. Chaz could see the veins pulsing in her temples.
She felt someone pulling her back and soon saw the nurses enveloping the patient, who still coughed and gagged.
"Step aside," someone ordered Chaz, and she obeyed, watching the nurses inject sedatives into the patient's veins, push her down on the bed and check her pulse. Four nurses surrounded the bed, and Chaz couldn't see the woman anymore, only catching glances of her pale face and closed eyes.
Suddenly, she remembered and hurried out of the room, looking around. But the attacker had vanished without a trace.
Sighing deeply, Chaz collapsed on the chair, digging her face in her hands. Her brain buzzed, the surroundings shook and the patient's pleading screams still thundered in her memories.
She sniffed, drying her eyes and taking a deep breath. Her heart galloped, and she still felt the scare making her bones tremble.
Someone touched her shoulder, and Chaz looked up, seeing one of the nurses.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah," Chaz swallowed and sat up straight. She glimpsed at the room, but the door had been closed. "How's the patient?"
"Under shock," the nurse peeled off her nitrile gloves, making a popping sound like a child pulling candy out of her mouth. "But we gave her sedatives and something for her anxiety, and she is asleep now."
Chaz inhaled, feeling the plastic and medicine-scented air filling her lungs. The silence fell in the hospital, and she could hear her heartbeat in the rhythm of the IV drops falling. Tip, tip, tip. She clenched her chest.
"She'll be okay, right?"
"Yes," the nurse nodded. "You saved her, Chaz. She was a few seconds away from being suffocated."
The nurse tapped on her shoulder again before walking away. Sitting in the same spot, Chaz couldn't take her eyes off the door, horrified at the thought of the man returning.
The night pulled a dark blanket over the city. Layers of darkness settled into the narrow alleys and dimmed the lights behind the windows. Sleep began cycling through the corridors, peering into the houses, at the families gathering around the dinner tables.
At the window, Lia puffed on a cigarette, the thick gray cloud shading her pale face. The sound of the cigarette burning pierced the silence, the small orange light radiant like a tiny sunrise in the gloom. She felt the scorching smoke filling and stinging her lungs, and she took another drag. She liked this feeling, of this poisonous pollution burning her throat and leaving a light mint taste on her tongue. She liked standing at the window alone, staring at the dark city.
New York was never completely dark or silent, though. The streetlights blended with the red and yellow of cars and traffic lights, people laughing and chattering aloud on the roads, music from bars and clubs turning into a barely audible buzzing din: the white noise of the sleepless city. At first, when she had moved here, these constant, undying noises annoyed Lia, but over time she grew to like them. With this bustle, she was never alone with her thoughts; she never sunk deep into her past as the lively city always connected her to the present reality.
The red hair framed her small face, her fingers as thin as the cigarette stuck between them. She circled her lips around its white edges, leaving marks of crimson-colored lipstick before letting the smoke shroud her face. Her open laptop shone in white behind her, and her glasses were tossed casually on the couch.
Still gazing at the glistening city, Lia couldn't help but let the memories pinch her mind.
She remembered exactly when she began falling in love with a computer - in high school, when she lost her only friend and everything with her. Rory, a blonde girl with black eyes, seemed so kind and beautiful that Lia couldn't help but thank god for making her move into the same city as her. At first, their friendship included eating ice cream and going to the movies, breaking Lia's cycle of spending weekends alone at home. And soon, when Lia thought that she and Rory had shared everything with each other, had opened their hearts and become closer than any friends could ever get, she thought that maybe Rory too felt more than just friendly love toward her. It was a late spring afternoon, and they were coming from a movie theater when Lia leaned in to kiss her. Rory kissed back, and that night Lia couldn't sleep, smiling, thinking about the strawberry taste on Rory's lips.
But the next day, when everyone stared at and mocked Lia, she realized what had happened. Rory smirked at her just like everyone else and changed her seat in the classroom, joining the group of bullies. The assaulting words came like swords toward Lia, and she spent days crying in her room. Then, left without any friends, she began spending weekends at home again, but now in front of a computer her parents had newly bought. With the excuse to do research for school homework, she spent hours without peeling her eyes off the screen and realized that this strange machine brought her the kind of comfort no one else could. There, she could see, hear or read anything she wanted. Though she was stuck in her small room, her world was much bigger than the whole country itself.
Still, it took years of guilt and shame for Lia to finally come across blogs and videos about embracing sexuality and loving one's self. Only then, in college, did she realize that she was one of the millions of people fighting the same battle.
Something clicked behind Lia, and she snapped out of her train of thought. The cigarette had burned to the tip of her fingers, and she quickly crashed it into the ashtray.
Looking back, Lia saw Chaz and Cam walking through the door, leaving their jackets on the hanger and slipping out of their shoes. Tired faces and sleepy eyes revealed the long, hard week they had endured.
Lia glanced at her watch, showing half past nine. Their weekly meeting was about to start.
"Hey," said Lia and hit the light switch. The bulb flickered on the ceiling before brightening the room with fluorescent yellow.
"Hi, hi." Chaz and Cam smiled wearily.
Chaz walked into the kitchen while Cam flopped on the couch. She took Lia's glasses and peered through them before stretching her sleeve and rubbing them clean.
Smiling, Lia closed the laptop and picked up the packs of cigarettes.
"You want one?" she asked Cam, but the woman shook her head and handed Lia the glasses. "Thank you."
"How was your day?" Cam asked and took off her officer hat, putting it aside. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders before she put them up with a clip. Then, unbuttoning the uniform, she sank deeper into the sofa and dropped her head back.
"Usual, yours?" Lia responded and flopped into an armchair. Her phone lit up with Munir's message.
I'll be there in two minutes. Don't start without me.
How can we start without our leader? ;))))
Lia messaged back with a smile before looking at Chaz walking in, munching on a tomato sandwich. "James is getting on my nerves," Cam sighed and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I really wanna tell him the truth."
"You should do it when you are ready," Chaz responded with her cheeks full. "And not because of James, who can't take 'no' as an answer."
The door clicked again, and Munir hurried inside, putting her bag aside and walking into the living room.
"Sorry I'm late," she apologized. "There were too many customers in the wine bar. They needed my help."
"Only you work so much," Cam smiled. "No other bar owner serves their customers." Munir shrugged with a grin and sat across from Lia. Chaz had taken out a wine bottle, pouring a glass for everyone.
"So, what do we know so far?" Cam asked and took a sip. The drink stained her lips with burgundy red.
"The name of the attacker, his family members' names, his age, and ethnicity," said Lia.
"It doesn't make any sense," Cam sighed. "We have this information but still don't have a motive."
"Maybe she was his girlfriend," Chaz bent her lips. "Or even a sister?"
"He doesn't have a sister," Lia said. "Only a brother he stopped posting about on his account a while ago. Omar."
Chaz's hand gripping the wine glass froze in the air, her eyes narrowing.
"His brother's name is Omar?"
Lia nodded. "Yes. Why?"
Chaz fell quiet, bending her head to the side as if remembering something before she gasped; her eyes widened.
"That's what the attacker called the patient!"
The women leaned in, confused.
"You know, someone attacked her in the hospital, as I told you," Chaz explained. "I couldn't remember, but now I do! The assailant called her Omar!"
The women shared a look of realization.
"Ah," Munir nodded. "So, the victim was his brother, Omar. She's transgender."
"She was attacked by her brother, who can't come to terms with her change,"
Cam added. Silence ensued as everyone leaned back in their seats.
"So, we have the name and the address," Munir broke the silence. "I think we can have a talk with them now."
Chapter 8
The night had settled in the grooves and hollows of the town when I put down the mop and looked out the window. The moon hovered in the dark sky, silvery haze encircling it like walls of stardust. The deep bluish black canvas gazed down at the earth, lulling the eyes of tired people, sending sleep cycling into every window. The streetlights scattered like fireflies, and the noises of the busy day halted. The town sank in the sleepy night that put a warm blanket over the
houses of tired, weary people, lulling them to sleep before they had to get up in the morning and start their dull, everyday ritual all over again.
The shaded car windows turned Munir's and Lia's silhouettes as they stared at the short building, their eyes pinned on the last floor, and the window brightened with fluorescent yellow. Munir tapped on the wheel impatiently, her fingertips making a gentle sound like rain prattling. Her hair tied up in a bun, she wore a tight shirt and jeans as if she had prepared to move effortlessly and not be held back by uncomfortable clothes. Her dark eyes pierced the window and the outlines moving behind them.
"If they don't leave, we'll have to knock on their door," Lia broke the silence.
"They will leave," Munir replied and glanced at her.
Lia had folded her arms, her eyes fixed on the same spot as Munir's. Her pursed lips and knitted brows revealed the determination embedded in her eyes. Her bare face, without a hint of makeup, seemed even paler than usual, but her red lips were in contrast with her white skin, as if someone had painted her face and only colored her lips.
Munir glanced at the back seat, her eyes sipping up the shapes of two gallons and the light purple liquid rippling in them. She took a deep breath, gripping the wheel.
"We can't mess this up," she murmured.
"We won't," Lia smiled and brushed her hand over her arm to comfort her.
Suddenly the light halted behind the window, and the women grabbed the door handles. "Let's go," said Munir, and they both got out, quickly crossing the empty, silent street. They blended with the darkness as they lingered outside the building entrance, in the corner. Munir inhaled deeply as she heard the footsteps getting closer. She almost felt the stinging scent of their smoke stench, and disgust rippled her skin. The closer their heavy treading got, the more anger sizzled in her, and the more her body shook with rage.
The moment the door opened and the two men stepped out, Munir and Lia jumped on them, pushing their heavy bodies into the dark alley next to the building.
"What's happening?!" they yelled as the women stepped back, trapping them in the dead end.
The men peered around, the streetlight hitting their faces and lighting them with dim yellow. Their expressions twisted with bewilderment as they saw the women standing in front of them.
"What are you doing?" One of them yelled. "What do you want?"
He slid his hand across his bald head, soggy lids folding over his black eyes. He shared a perplexed look with the second man, seemingly younger than him. Munir's eyes lanced through the bald man, recognizing him as the victim's brother from the photos Lia had shown her.
"Don't you realize why we are here?" Munir smirked and raised her hand, holding the gallon. The men's pupils dilated when they landed on the acid shaking in the bottles. They stepped back, horror twisting their faces.
"You burned Anastasia Reza," Lia said aloud. "You recognize her name? Anastasia." "He is Omari!" Ebrema shouted, his eyes sparking with rage.
"You have to get used to her new name, her new life," Munir said. "You are not responsible for her."
"Never!" Ebrima yelled and seized his arm from his friend, who had tried to calm him down.
Munir and Lia shared a look, both realizing that Ebrima was never going to change his mind - his brain was clogged, and however hard someone tried, they could never clean it off the dirt and trash it was filled with.
"We're going to tell you straight, as you don't seem to get it," Munir deepened her voice. "We're here to take revenge for your sister."
Embrema swallowed. His friend had stepped back, his face turning ashen.
"What revenge?! Are you out of your mind?" Ebrima's voice turned strident, but the signs of horror edged it.
"What? You think you don't deserve it?" Lia grinned, her face - always kind and sweet - now contorting with irony.
"Our justice system is laughable," Munir stepped closer to the man, feeling the sickening scent of his sweat damping his shirt. "There are no consequences for anyone, which is why more people act like animals nowadays. They, you..." she pointed at him, almost touching his nose. "You display beast-like characteristics rather than human decency. Don't you wonder what happened to those people who committed heinous crimes? Of course, the average person would love to think that they're sitting in jail right now rotting because of the heroic police who investigated this incident and brought those criminals to justice. Even if they did, is that good enough?
All I know is if someone threw acid on me, for them to sit in jail would not be good enough," Munir put her face close to his, seeing his sweat beads covering his forehead, pupils shrinking with fear. "I would want to see their skin melting away from their body as they scream and agony like I did. Eye for an eye."
She stepped back, suppressing the sickening feeling trying to explode out of her.
"It's okay that you disagree," Lia's tone turned sarcastic. "We are not asking for your permission. There's a reason that we lurk in the shadows. To some, we are just as much at fault as others. But there's a reason that we do what we do. A reason which is bigger than anything else - helping women escape the toxic, deathly environment where their own family members don't hesitate to kill them."
Ebrima fell quiet, but suddenly his friend opened his trembling mouth.
"I...I recognize you from the internet," he mumbled, gawking at Munir and Lia. "What is the name of your group? I've been trying to think maybe I'm wrong; after all, it is just a legend, but I remember even years ago, people talking about revenge and vengeance on incidents that have taken place in the city. I thought it was all fake."
"It is not fake," Munir declared, her words hanging in the silent night. "We are Lex Tal Legion. Lex Tal is short for Lex Talionis."
"It means the law of retaliation," Lia continued. "Punishment that fits the crime. An eye for an eye."
Munir gazed into their eyes.
"Remember our name," she said through her clenched teeth. "Because you'll never forget our faces."
Munir leaped through the air and hit Ebrima in the chest with great force. Startled and confused, the man had no time to grasp reality or balance his steps. He fell backward and sprawled on the ground. He lay for a second, looking at Munir as if trying to recognize her, before he turned to grab something from his pocket, probably a knife. But Munir pinned his hands down as she stood on him, then punched him in the face. The blood soon trickled and smeared on her fist. And even though the man was much bulkier than her, she had more time than him to plan out her moves. Another punch, and he stopped moving around, his breathing shortened, and his body turned limp. Finally, she forced him up to his feet and held him by clutching hands behind him.
Looking to her right, she saw Lia holding Ebrima’s friend by his collar. She punched him in the face and grabbed his shoulders. His face turned sideways, and a crimson liquid oozed through his mouth, dribbling down his neck.
"Nice moves," Munir smiled at Lia. "The fighting lessons are useful, huh?" "Learned them last week," Lia said proudly.
They let the men go, who collapsed on the ground, peering up at them through their brimmed eyes.
"How did you feel when you burned your sister and left her to die?" Munir said under her breath and opened the gallon.
Before the men could utter a word, Munir and Lia poured acid over their heads. The purple liquid flowed down their faces like poison rivers, and in a second, ear-splitting screams pierced the night. The man grabbed their faces, their skin sizzling like bacon frying in a pan.
Dropping the bottles, Munir and Lia ran out of the aisle, quickly jumping in their car. The euphoria bursting out of them, they breathed out sharply before Munir started the car, speeding away. The sense of accomplishment overshadowed the pride, and soon relief settled into her - the calm of knowing Anastasia would be safe from now on.
Chapter 9
The late afternoon brought reddish-orange light pouring over the city. The glimpses of the horizon between the high-rises let the shine reach the streets, the windows reflecting the setting sun and scattering the apricot glow into small sparkles. The round disc of the sun was slowly sinking behind the jammed streets and silhouettes of people strolling on the sidewalks. Usual din sounded more cheerful into the fiery glow of the calm afternoon.
The hospital seemed somehow serene that day. The noise had hushed as the patients had settled into their rooms or gone out for a short walk with their loved ones in the yard. The white walls lacked the usual clamor and now sinking in silence, the place didn't seem as melancholy.
Chaz had taken off her scrubs and grabbed her bag, ready to go home after her shift. But instead of walking toward the entrance, she headed toward one of the hospital rooms.
She glanced through the glass on the door, seeing the outline of Anastasia sitting on the bed.
Chaz knocked and immediately heard the gentle voice.
"Come in."
She answered so quickly as if happy that someone wanted to visit her. Chaz knew how lonely it could get being all alone in the white room surrounded by nothing but medicine, machines, and white walls.
She opened the door and peeked through the gap.
"How are you feeling, Anastasia?" she asked with a smile.
The woman watched her shrouded by the honey-gold light pouring through the window.
Her face had begun healing but was still wrapped in bandages. Her hair looked redder than the setting sun, color finally returning to her ivory skin.
A smile rose to Anastasia's lips, her eyes narrowing with gratitude.
"I'm good, thank you," she responded, her eyes glancing at Chaz's clothes. "You aren't working?"
"I was about to leave," Chaz responded. "But I wanted to talk to you. If you want, of course."
Anastasia gazed at her silently before she nodded.
"Of course."
She seemed to crave human interaction. So, Chaz walked inside and closed the door behind her.
Anastasia seemed calmer, serenity embedded in her eyes. Leaning on her pillow, she had loosely placed her long arms to her sides, the blanket covering her legs while the gown draped from her gaunt shoulders. Chaz could see her blue veins under her thin skin, the shapes of her bones on her hands, and pulse beating behind her temples.
"You look good," Chaz smiled.
Staring at her, she couldn't help but think how beautiful Anastasia was and wish for her face to stay the same. Her prominent lips, as if sculpted out of stone, deep-set eyes, and smooth skin should not have been ruined. Chaz felt like it would be a crime like destroying a piece of art.
Anastasia took a deep breath and locked eyes with Chaz as she sat beside her.
Chaz took off her bag and put it in her lap, inhaling. She already felt the tears rising in her eyes, her heart racing, and her cheeks burning up.
"I'm a transgender too," she finally let out the words that had been trying to escape from her pursed lips. And now, as she let them flow, she felt the sense of utter relief replacing the tension in her body. She almost felt her muscles relaxing, ache fading from her neck.
Anastasia nodded, tears brimming her eyes too. Soon one fell down her cheek before she wiped it with her sleeve.
"I have had my own struggles. I have hurt so much mentally, but I don't know the physical pain you went through," Chaz continued, her voice breaking. She swallowed to let her words sink in, Anastasia. "I'm so sorry you had to go through the worst-case scenario."
Anastasia let the tears flow down her scarred face and hang from her chin. Her pale face was now red. She sniffled and watched her tears drop on the light blue blanket, slowly soaking it.
"I used to be so close to my brother. We were best friends. I thought no one understood me better than him. That's why he was the first person I told I wanted to transition," Anastasia spoke, her brittle voice thick with pain. "Of course, he didn't approve. And after the operation, he became very hostile. As if he forgot our friendship, he forgot we grew up together. He forgot about our love. I couldn't recognize him anymore."
Anastasia licked her lips, her eyes turning puffy. The immense sadness pouring out of her spread onto Chaz too and cursed through her veins.
"I had to leave and move to another town. He followed me there too and... And he scarred me," Anastasia sobbed, her sorrow too big to fit into her skinny body. "But I couldn't bring myself to snitch on him to the police. He was my brother. I still hoped he'd return to his old, loving self. I hoped he'd accept me. But... He never did."
Anastasia cried out and hid her face in her hands.
"He did this to me, and I still couldn't tell the police," Anastasia's voice muffled through her hands.
Chaz gently put her hand on her trembling shoulder, and it was enough for Anastasia to fall into her arms. Chaz wrapped her arms around Anastasia's quivering body, hugging her tightly. Anastasia let herself cry in the warmth of Chaz's embrace.
Chaz's phone vibrated, and she glanced at it, reading the message.
The mission is over. Chaz gently rubbed Anastasia's back. Her cries had hushed but tired from the emotions; she still lay quiet in Chaz's arms.
"No one will be coming after you anymore," Chaz murmured to her. "No one will hurt you again."
Anastasia nodded silently, and they looked out the window. Sitting together in the calm stillness, the women let the afternoon warmth soothe their tired souls.
The End
Thank you for the support.
Please check back next month for more content.