The Cycle

Chapter Three

She never asked to be born a woman, infact she never asked to be born. Her background, her family, those she called blood, she never asked for them.

She could not remember, but knew — that one day: the darkness and nothingness which she had known but couldn't understand, had been ripped away from her, and then she had been pushed and pulled, away from the comforting void, and had been birth into a world of light. Yet she had shut her eyes, and wailed, and clutched the fleeting comfort of the void with tiny feeble hands. For in that moment when she understood nothing — she knew she would find no comfort in this world of light.

Malik's face came in focus, as she blinked both tears and pain away. With her back against the damp wall; her legs sprawled along the wet ground; the puddle in which she sat, soaked through the flimsy string and yellow gown she had worn for his pleasure .

In times past, when she had danced out of tune, his freckled eyes would lose their warmth, and become ice brown; but unlike before — unwelcomed whispers told her: she would never see those warmth again. And his ice brown eyes, would be the last thing she saw, as the light left her eyes for good; for there would be no whispers of unspoken apologies, hidden in whispers of chaste admonition, while his hands worked to erase the pain he had caused, as he had done in times past.

A harsh slap stung her cheek, and whipped her head to left, and then another whipped it to the right.

"Whatever you think I had done —"

The words died when he forcefully jabbed her throat, and they became a series strangled wheeze.

"You do not speak, unless I ask a question... Nod if you understand—

“Very good. Now, when where you approached by the children of Eden? "

"I...I...I don't know... I don't know what you are talking about."

"That man, the one you called no one. The one you tried to defend. He was one of them, and he just killed two of my trusted men."

"I swear to you. I don't really know who or what he is. He seemed ordinary; some nights ago, he was lost and asked for direction, and I helped him out, that all. Please you have to believe me. You know the state of my life, I gain nothing by causing you harm."

"But we both know that's a lie, don't we. Infidels the Edenites might be, but they could change your life, at least until I burn every ill gotten gift they have given. It's what I do you see, I am their nemesis, just as they are mine."

She ransacked her mind, as she sort for words, anything that could pull from the sudden situation she had found herself.

Malik had said she called to him. Yet the true meaning was lost to her. What did he feel? she'd asked. Was it love, fondness or affection; but then, he'd sighed, and said no, for he too didn't understand what it was that drew him to her; for it was greater and deeper than anything he'd ever known, for no woman, had ever gotten close to him, as she had.

It was that reason, that let her hope and dream. She'd dreamed he would take her away from her ill gotten life and circumstance, for she too, felt something that was beyond fleeting love for him. Yet no matter how great and deep, the unknown thing that drew them together was; he only ever called her for her body, but placed her above all other women.

Spurred by that knowledge, she reached out with trembling hands, took his hands in hers, willing whatever it was that seemed to bind them — to take hold and open his eye, so that he would see her, and know, that she had no knowledge, of whatever it is, that has placed her — once again — on his dark side.

"Malik," she said, "believe me. I would never do anything to hurt you."

She poured every truth which she could muster into the words; and those brown eyes peered at her, and a myriad expressions flickered through his face, and she could tell he wrestled with conflicting emotions. He took a deep breath and exhaled softly. It was a good sign. His hands soften in hers. He would forgive her; he would forgive her — her unknown sin.