He nodded. “I came and freed you from your Master, Jakhua. You were on a drug they are selling. It makes you want to kill. It makes you angry, so angry that the only way to ease it is violence. You have been tested on by Jakhua since you were eight years old. Jakhua uses you as an example of how his drug works. He takes away your free will. On the serum, you do anything he asks of you. You kill anyone he commands, and forget anyone from your past.”
My heart stuttered as I tried to understand what I was being told. “Eight years old,” I rasped. “A child?” The man nodded and Talia sniffed back tears. She cried, her head tucked against my stomach. My hand on her back tightened and I asked, “How old am I now?”
“Twenty-nine,” Talia whispered from my hold. Her head lifted. “You are twenty-nine, Zaal. That man, that sick man you call ‘master’ has held you captive for over twenty years.”
I staggered back. My legs hit the long seat behind me and I dropped down in disbelief. Over twenty years.
My eyes closed as I pictured Master’s face. I thought of his short dark hair, his harsh brown eyes. I thought of his mouth, his hands, his fists. Too many fractured images raced through my head—screaming. I was screaming, my arms held out for someone. Blood. Blood, so much blood.
And I felt rage. I felt a rage burn in me that I couldn’t explain.
“What happened?” I asked coldly, and looked up to 818. “Why did you free me?”
818 walked back to his seat and sat down. His shoulders sagged, but his dark eyes met mine and he asked, “Do you remember anything before you belonged to your master?”
I shook my head, but remembered my dreams. Remembered the two boys that looked alike. The little girl. My eyes widened. The little girl tapping my face counting “one, two, three…”
I lifted my hand to my face, to my left cheek and felt for the moles. Talia was suddenly before me, on her knees. She watched my hands. “Do you remember something, Zaal?”
“One, two, three…,” I said, my eyes still picturing the little girl’s dark eyes and hair. Talia’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but as she moved my fingers from my face, her thumb stroked over that same spot.
“Your three moles?” she asked.
“One, two, three,” I murmured. I looked into her eyes. “Three of us walking. Two boys and a little girl.” I forced my mind to remember. I touched my long hair. “The boys had long black hair.” My breathing increased as I remembered. “They looked the same.”
“Yes,” 818 confirmed. My eyes snapped up.
“Who?” I grunted, my hands beginning to shake.
818 swallowed and said, “Your brother, your twin brother, Anri.”
I stared and stared as 818’s words carried into my mind.… your twin brother, Anri, your twin brother, Anri …
I tried to remember but nothing else came. Frustration built in my chest. I barked, “Continue. I want more. I need to hear more.” Talia gripped my hand, but I couldn’t look at her. I needed to know more without distraction.
“I knew him,” 818 suddenly said. “I knew your brother.”
I stilled. “How?” I asked.
“He was in the gulag, the Georgian underground prison, with me. He was the best fighter we had.” 818’s eyes misted with water and he rasped, “He was my best friend.”
818’s face dropped as he spoke those last two words. Frustration built in my veins. “I do not remember him,” I snapped. “I do not remember knowing him.” I breathed through my nose. “What else?” I asked. “Tell me more.”
818 lifted his head, took a deep breath, and said, “You are from Georgia, eastern Europe.”
“Where are we now?”
“We’re in the United States, zolotse. In New York.” I looked to Talia and my heart sank. Her beautiful eyes were staring up at me, her sadness shining through.
“I do not know any of this, Talia. I cannot remember anything and it hurts.” I pressed my hand on my heart. “Inside of me feels empty.”
“I know,” she soothed. Talia got to her feet and sat in my lap. Her palm pressed against my cheek and she pressed her lips to mine. As she pulled away, I took a long breath. “Let Luka tell you about your past. Your memories will return. Don’t force them, just let them return of their own accord.”