Birthright: A Phoenix is Born

Unorthodox

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Catch you in my stories,
GaisceKid.

Elizabeth

"Hey." I barked while a set of rugged palms wrenched at my scalp and hauled me into the cell.

"Sit down and shut up." Grunted our escort. A built caucasian man probably in his late thirties. Grey crew cut and hardline face squeezed together impersonating an angry pitbull. His camouflage army-esche navy uniform read MT Security. I scrambled off the floor ensuring to commit his countenance to memory. A special place in my heart was reserved for this sort of person. Someone who became a tyrant when given the tiniest sliver of power.

He looked me up and down then flashed his grotesque teeth. Air gushed out with its fragrance, some wayward tuna. I kept my vision locked with his, storm grey iris returning my leer. Determined to communicate one single thought.

Pray, I never meet you again.

With his assignment complete, he marched out the room. But not before punking Dylan with well-timed "Boo". Dylan jerked skywards, much to the guard's and indeed my amusement. The frightened boy's shuddered breaths cascaded through the space with an unnerving ruckus.

"Don't mind him." Stated Queen Ogunyade. Her face ever compassionate towards Dylan. Shock left my aghast.

Did she not see how I was handled by that brute?

Dylan nodded timidly and traipsed after the guard, the squelch of his fresh out the box sneakers made my eardrums cry blood. Why an adult would continue to drag their feet was beyond me.

"What's your problem?" Asked the Queen, her eyebrow arched.

"Well, I was just mauled by a Neanderthal." I snidely replied.

The Queen's combination of eye roll and cackle brought a certain kind of itchy heat to my cheeks, enhanced by the layer of foundation caked around my face.

"Get up for me *jare. I have dealt worse blows to you during training."

I concealed a smirk.

She wasn't wrong.

"What's more pressing is that we have seven days to escape before Mr Mercer decides our rent is due.....Oww." I turned to see my fellow cellmate use the few unsmudged parts of dingy cell sink to pluck out a fake eyelash applied by a dumb makeup artist. Queen Ogunyade was a queen in every sense of the word. She didn't need an artificial touch up. Aside from the poor quality foundation, I was spared most of the joys of being an artist's canvas. However, the scent of cheap acidic perfume still lingered.

"They didn't have to signal our deaths so obviously. I guess they think Koju has the mind of a five year old or something?" I added.

"My thoughts exactly Elizabeth." Queen Ogunyade exclaimed. "Now if I wanted to advertise a sale and the deaths of a person's loved ones. I would have done without the crows."

I slid into bed and wrapped myself in the wafer thin duvet. Shoulder twinged doing so, a reminder that deranged psychopaths like Mercer didn't think of their captive's comfortability. Resting soothed part of the tension yet like my shoulder the deadlier poison remained. Amplified by the silencing which forced my ears to stiffen.

"You don't think Koju is still in Ireland with Damian?"

The dreaded question. One I failed to reassure myself of the answer.

Koju knows more than myself the importance of this mission.

He would never jeopardize, our promises and commitments.

Right?

Similar thoughts ran wild whenever I closed my eyes. I struggled to rein them in most nights. Other days they seemed to wander off into oblivion. But yesterday, they came as a nightmare. A depiction of a vile reality where all our work, our predecessors' work, all the hope, dreams and ambitions of a people and a nation, dashed because my brother didn't put the mission first.

I shifted to face the Queen, the eyelash hung haphazardly from her now sideway face. However, her pupils were blank and arms crossed. Her easygoing side completely vanished, replaced with this awesome royal demeanour, evidence humans once accepted for why certain people deserved the right to rule.

"I know Koju and Damian are no longer on this island. They're on their way to Bi'ina as we speak. Trust me my queen. I know my brother." The words eased confidently from my lips.

"That's the problem Elizabeth." Grimaced the Queen. "I know him too."

I found myself staring at her back, my previous resolve dissolved by her words.

"Anyway, as I mentioned before our escape is paramount at the moment." She quickly asserted. "Mercer is computer genius, but targeted psychological manipulation like that is not his style. Greater forces are now at play."

I tried shaking the uncertainty from my voice engulfing large clouds of that stupid perfume. A sequence of throat hacks battered my neck. Yet I managed to mumble a humble "Yes ma."

"We'll escape on Friday afternoon, the last day of his ultimatum. Knowing John he'll be so distraugh-."

She held up her hand at the sound. Emanating from the other side of the metal door barring our freedom. A series of clicks and clacks which ended with a muffled scream, lowering in intensity until it melded with the silence.

Queen Ogunyade leaned in and whispered the rest of her plan. Most of her words fazed over, while I honed in on the cement blocks of the ceiling above. Tracing the cracks between each brick helped me forget. Forget about the itchy foundation plastered across my face. Forget about that repulsive citric aroma they doused me in.

Forget about the possibility my brother, had committed treason.

Author's Commentary

Irish Urban Dictionary

Yoruba Translations

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*Jare = Yorbua word used to emphasis a point.