Prologue

PROLOGUE

“Be his what?” The whites of her eyes grew large, expanding upon the words of request taking root within her understanding.

 

To his knees, the father of the sacrificed crumbled, coming to bow sincerely before his daughter, “please, Nadia, you must.”

 

Silence reined the room, the two observers watched; taking note of Nadia’s following actions.

 

In one fluid movement she had risen to her feet, eyeing the man lowering himself before her with hateful eyes, “you’re disgusting, father. Absolutely revolting.”

She made for the door.

 

“Be seated, sister,” before she could make good footing outside the open exit, her elder brother moved to close it.

 

“What, have you all lost your minds?” Nadia took a single tread in retreat, aware of her elder siblings strength, “why won’t you feed him Nash, why only me?”

 

“Would you offer your younger sister to a monster to save your own skin?” His snipe mauled her honour.

“So you intend to feed me to him instead, Belmont?” She countered.

 

Their breaths were short and shallow, each delivering to the other a resentful grimace.

 

“I knew you didn’t approve of me, but to",” she started.

Before her words were finished, he interjected, “oh, please, keep your paranoia out of this, and spare me the guilt. It is not by choice that I am agreeing to".”

“Don’t tell me you’re doing this for the good of th".”

“Yes, this is for the good of the fami".”

 

“Will the both of you please,” having said naught till this point, the youngest siblings call for order was successful in obtaining the attention of the feuding, “Nadia, I apologise. Belmont, calm yourself before your words scathe sister any further. Father, lift your head.”

 

“But, Natashima, you,” to his sister will, Belmont withdrew himself.

Nadia remained defiant, “I won’t argue, but my refusal remains clear.”

“Do you have no conscience?!”

“Yes, father, and my conscience tells me I’d be better off swimming with a boulders strapped to each ankle than accepting a proposal from that man,” at her sides, her knuckled grew white as she clenched her fists.

 

“If your mother were here now think of what she would say. Nadia, my child, please see reason,” once more, her father tried, prostrating himself.

 

The snort that blew from Nadia’s flared nostrils was one of contempt, “‘If your mother were here’”"she mimicked" “mother isn’t here because you did to her what you plan on doing to me!”

 

“Mother was brave, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from sullying her actions,” with his vocals angling themselves towards the anger stirring within, Belmont advised Nadia with a cautioning hiss.

 

“Whatever you say, Bell,” the emphasised nickname had been one their mother had frequently used in reference to Belmont.

 

“Nadia, I am warning you, do not anger me,” his eyes were now closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he attempted to restrain himself, “you’ll regret it otherwise.”

 

Again, she snorted, “here, let me make this all easier on y’all,” her dialect slipped into the southern turn of phrase it habitually did when she became irked.

In a swift manoeuvre she had taken a stride, bringing herself closer to the closed door, she coiled her fingers around the knob and yanked, opening it and advancing out.

 

Belmont stood, “you would not dare to leave in a time of emergency,” his footsteps echoed after hers, “Nadia, hear me and understand, I do not want to have to sacrifice you to him. Nadia, are you listening?”

She gave no response, taking a sharp right in the snaking hallway. Jaded by her stubbornness, he reached for her wrist, clasping it in an iron-clad hold and forcing her to halt.

He spun her to face him, “Nadia, listen to me when I’m t"you’re crying?”

 

“Wha’dya think, y’ jerk!” She reclaimed her wrist, tearing it from his clutch.

The silent stream of tears had begun long since she had made her exit; her cheeks had become blotchy, reddened and slightly inflated. The white powder she had so tirelessly worked to purchase from the pricey local Bodyworks store smeared in sync with tears, the freckles she detested so much showing themselves.

 

Belmont extended an arm, lifting a finger and inching it towards her eyes in a wasted effort to wipe away her tears. In all her unfeminine glory, she fisted a palm, reeling it backwards before driving it with intended force into her brother’s abdomen. He barley flinched, and her woes grew, her wails deepening.

 

“That was a cheap shot,” the joke was lost on her.

 

“I hate you,” she blubbered, reeling her fist and swinging it in a sequence; each time her fist rammed into his centre, Belmont remained standing, “I hate you…so much, Bell. I hate…” She dissolved into tears. Weakened, her knees gave in to daunting realisation.

 

Belmont caught her, “you understand you are doing this for Natashima,” his tries at comforting did little more than worsen her state.