"I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result."
- Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
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THE SIRENS SHATTERED THE SILENCE.
At first, little Stella Knox thought nothing of it, sitting in the living room floor next to her baby sister and a fairytale book open on her lap. The blaring shrieks of sirens were a constant in Stella's neighbourhood, as normal as seeing someone walk their dog. She had just finished reading Izzy a story about a frog transforming into a prince with the gracious kiss of a princess. Her sister, unable to resist a good story, curled against Stella's knees and drifted off to a blissful sleep, her black tufts of hair and cherubim face making her look almost angelic.
Stella, the edges of her lips curling upwards, picked the two-year-old's body up by the armpits and gently laid her in her baby crib. She waited a heartbeat or two before switching the lights off and leaving the room.
The sirens were getting louder now, coming closer.
She wondered which poor family was going to get torn apart tonight. It was a morbid thought, but one that couldn't help crawling into her mind. Would it be someone she knew? Or some random drug bust, alerted to the police by an anonymous tip? Whatever the case, it would always end the same: furious shouts, the recitation of the Miranda rights ('you have the right to remain silent!'), and the pitiful pleading. None of it mattered in the end. Someone, or multiple someones, were going to have their lives changed tonight. It was just a question of who.
Anxiety wound its way into Stella's heart, and without her being conscious of it, her legs had directed her to the kitchen, where her mother was making lunch for the following day.
"Mamá? Where's papá?"
Mariana Knox looked up from her work of chopping lettuce and smiled, the corners of her eyes wrinkled and weary. "He already went to bed. Want to help me make these sandwiches, mija?"
Stella nodded and took the knife from her mother.
Crunch. The sound the knife made when it sliced through the vegetables calmed her.
She replayed the events of the day in her head. English, Algebra, lunch, Spanish, and Science, in that order. Each hour monotonous, the kids around her watching the seconds tick away until it was, finally, the end. Then repeat the next day. And the next. Every day for the next four months. The strangest part? Stella never wanted it to end.
The uniform, predictable form her life took was not something that Stella Knox was going to give up. She loved the uneventful, craved it. After her cousin Pascal's incarceration, Stella realized that she would rather be boring than behind bars. Or, worse, dead.
The month Stella had turned thirteen, she was approached by Pascal, only a handful of years older than her, and was offered a place in the 'family business'. The one that made deals sealed with blood and claimed so many of her relatives in a war that never ended. The one her own father insisted on being a part of, endangering not only his own life but the lives of his family. She was old enough to understand what the offer meant and how it asked her to sacrifice more than she was willing to give up, including her uneventful life in exchange for, what? Fame? Glory? Riches? None of those things mattered to Stella, and she knew immediately what her answer would be.
Stella laughed in her cousin's face. "Not for all the money in the world." she had said.
Pascal gave her a friendly squeeze on her shoulder, the sight of his tattoo on his wrist twisting Stella's insides. It was in the shape of a rose, the lines delicate and innocent. Stella knew better. It was not just for aesthetics. It was a promise, a show of dedication towards her grandfather and everything he stands for.
"You're probably right, muñeca. Girls like you should stay good. I'll tell abuelo that you aren't interested." Pascal flashed his cigarette stained teeth. "He will be disappointed, though. You are one of his favorites."
Pascal was caught and charged with possession of heroine and intent to sell two months later. He was sentenced to eight years.
Stella remembered the way that her aunt had knocked on their door and stumbled through their living room, her eyes wide and red-rimmed from crying. Her mother had told Stella to play with Izzy outside, and Stella had nodded and complied like the good girl she was.
Stella's hands shake as she finishes chopping the lettuce and moves on to the carrots. Mentally, Stella berates herself and pushes thoughts of her cousin away. She was not going to end up like him. After all, she was the one with the knife. She was the one in control. She was going to be something more than drugs and violence and a future in tatters. She--
The door to their apartment kicked open. A flood of police officers, complete with badges and raised guns, rushed inside.
Everything that happened next felt surreal. It was a cacophony of sounds and images that didn't make sense to Stella. She saw her mother cry out as an officer screamed at her to put her hands up. Her baby sister's wails in the next room. Someone twisting her arm so that the knife clattered to the ground.
Her father being dragged out of his bed and pushed to the floor in front of her.
She could feel herself wrestling against someone's grip around her waist, trying to claw herself towards her sister, her mother, her father-- anyone. Her voice was wrenched out of her. Tears stung and blurred her vision. Yet, in all of the chaos, there was a strange stillness. As if this wasn't real, couldn't possibly be happening. This was Stella Knox, average student and loving daughter. Who dreamed of normality and living a dull, colorless life. None of this could happen to her. None of it made sense.
She found her words when the officers handcuffed her father and recited his rights. "No, please. That's my father. Please." she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Her father looked up at her, his eyes full of disbelief. He looked like an animal being led to his slaughter. "It's okay, mija. Everything will be fine. Take care of your mother and sister while I'm gone, okay? Be strong."
She could still hear the sirens as she held her mother's shaking form. That was the moment that Stella realized that living a dull, colorless life was a privilege. One that she could no longer afford.
She clutched her trembling hands into fists.
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A/N: sorry that it took me so long to update !! expect kinda regular updates from now on
