To punish those who wronged me.
To protect the ones I loved.
I needed to do it. Isn’t that why I was placed in these circumstances?
“Keiran…”
I heard her call, but I only shook my head in denial.
“You’re not a slave.”
I’m not a slave.
“Or a killer.”
Not a killer.
“You’re not a monster,” my mother’s ethereal voice whispered.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Keiran
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
The Playground
“Now can you teach me how to dribble between my legs like you?”
“You’re still not dribbling right. I told you to use your fingertips more. You’re still using your palms.”
“It’s too hard,” Keenan whined. Anger flared up inside me as I eyed the tears trailing down his face.
“What did I say about crying like a baby?”
He stopped crying immediately and looked up at me with frightened eyes. “You said you’ll hurt me.”
I puffed out a breath from my chest into the summer air and took the ball from him. I started to dribble figure eights from front to back between my legs in a slow motion so he could see. I chose not to talk him through it because I didn’t trust what would really come out of my mouth. I refused to apologize for what I had said because I meant it. I just sometimes wished I hadn’t meant it. I didn’t want to hurt him.
He watched in amazement as I did tricks with the ball. I didn’t have any special training or techniques taught to me. I just did what felt natural when I had the ball in my hand.
After dodging Keenan’s attempt to steal the ball from me like I told him, I positioned my body to make a three-pointer, but the sound of a child’s wail interrupted my concentration. I turned to eye two other boys my age pushing and shoving a smaller kid around. Before I could rethink it, I felt my feet carry me swiftly over until I was running. I didn’t stop once I was on them. I hit the closest with my fist as hard as I could and then planted my foot in the other’s gut, bringing them both down simultaneously.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said before they could talk. “Pick up and get lost.”
The collective gasps of shock when I cursed fell deaf on my ears. I wasn’t like the other kids, and I wouldn’t pretend to be. When they scrambled, I turned on my heel without sparing the little boy a glance, and trudged back to my cousin who was watching him with his mouth open.
“Hey, wait! Wait, please!” I heard behind me but didn’t stop. I picked the discarded ball up from the ground on the way, not realizing I had dropped it when I ran over. Just as I stood upright, small sneakered feet came into my vision, and I met the glossy eyes and a toothy grin of a little boy with light brown, curly hair. “Hi,” he breathed.
I ignored his greeting and made a basket but caught the fallen look on his face before he covered it up with another smile. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
“Go away, kid.”
“But you’re a kid, too,” he pouted.
“He’s not a kid,” Keenan spoke up. I guess he was good for something after all.
“Well, what grade are you in?” he demanded. I eyed him in his blue overalls and dirt-smudged face and tried not to laugh as he attempted to stand up to me.
“What’s your name, kid?” I asked rather than answer his question.
“Buddy.”
“Buddy? What kind of name is that?”
He shrugged his little shoulders. “I don’t know.” He hopped from one foot to the other as a frown wrinkled his forehead. “It’s what my mommy and daddy and sister call me. But they call me Chance too, so I guess you can call me that if you like.”
I could tell by the look on his face he didn’t like the name. “I’ll call you Buddy,” I offered, making his face light up.
“Yeah, me, too. I guess it’s better than Chance,” Keenan added.
“So can I play with you guys?”
“Why?”
“I want to learn how to shoot like that.”
“You’re too small,” Keenan griped.