“Move!” my father commanded. Instead, the guards lifted their guns … lifted them at the table. My sisters screamed, my baby brother cried … but my twin reached out and took my hand. I looked at him and he looked at me. I squeezed his hand. Be strong, he mouthed, keep strong.
“What are you doing?” Father asked the guards and rose from his seat, just as tens of men came flooding from the house, all dressed in black. They all held guns … guns aimed at us …
Bullets … blood … death … blood … screams … guns firing … piercing … slicing … death … death … death …
My eyes snapped open and I tried to breathe. But all I could see was blood … so much blood … blood choking my throat … I gasped as the image of running blood filled my mind.…
Darkness came, and when my eyes opened again? I was hot, too hot. Sweat poured from my forehead into my eyes. But I couldn’t move my arms to wipe the sweat. Couldn’t move them even though they ached. Poison was burning my flesh from the inside; venom and something else crawled slowly under my skin, clawing to get out.
I couldn’t stand it. My stomach convulsed but no vomit came up my throat. There was nothing there, just pain. My muscles were squeezing in my thighs and back, pulling so tight they were snapping, trying to break from my skin. My saliva boiled in my throat. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t make a sound.
I lay on the floor, eyes watching the black walls as pictures and strange faces passed through my mind.
I couldn’t remember if even I knew them, Did I know them?
Then a face stabbed at my brain. My body jerked. Master. Where is Master?
Darkness came and went. I tried to scream as knives stabbed right through my stomach and came out the other side. My body shook as each blade sliced through, but I couldn’t move. I was too hot, too hot, but then I was too cold, too cold inside. My blood turned to ice, trying to push through my veins. My muscles froze, I was trapped on the floor.
My eyes suddenly closed, darkness pulling me down.
“Tie him to the table,” the man’s voice said, and someone threw me on a metal bed and strapped me down.
What are they doing? I was scared, so scared. I managed to turn my head, looking for help.
Then I saw him on a bed beside me. The boy’s brown eyes looked at me, and he mouthed, “Dzlieri. Be strong. Keep strong.” His fingers reached out trying to touch mine, and I did the same, but they didn’t meet. “Dzlieri, be strong, keep strong,” he mouthed again. I nodded my head as a man approached my table.
He ran his hands over my body, then the boy’s. “Identical in every way but their eyes.” He smiled. “They’ll be perfect.”
Two men held me down, then flipped me on my back. My head was forced down to the bed. I couldn’t move.
Fear ran through me and I could feel my hands shaking. But as I lifted my eyes, the boy was in the same position as me, two men in white coats holding him down. His head was facing mine. His eyes met mine and he silently told me to be strong, keep strong. And I did. I didn’t even scream when a long thick needle was pushed into my spine, when we were cut open, when we were beaten. Neither did the boy. We held each other’s gazes and never broke away.
A voice snapped me round. Voices—no, a single voice, the same voice that I heard every day. He was speaking in a strange language. Did I know what he was saying?
“Turn round and fight it,” he said. My eyes squeezed shut when I understood him. I couldn’t turn, couldn’t turn round. I wanted to growl, turn and cause him pain, but my muscles were weak, aching. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I was floating, my breathing slow, air was dragging into my lungs. Everything was still. I waited for Master. But no Master came.
My cheek was flat to the ground, my eyes were shut. But I was numb. My heart beat at a steady pace. It didn’t race or stutter. There was no pain, no fire inside.
But I was too tired. I couldn’t move, my blood was no longer hot. The knives were no longer in my stomach. There was nothing.