Blue Rose

Arya - Prologue

(Author's Note: I wrote this story when I was in college, so it had been in my notebook for a long, long, time. It is essentially a story of the relationship between friends, between Arya and Cadrez.. As it was written before I was a hijabi and when I was oh! that young - things would have changed by now. I am still considering typing out the continuation of this chapter.  Above all, 'Arya' has remained in me for as long as I remember. Well, if I do continue typing this story, it is for old time's sake and please pardon the setting and the culture of my characters. 'Arya' will remain as fond memories of those days... please read with a pinch of salt - so to speak...)

Prologue:

Cadrez looked down at the silent, small huddled figure of a boy. Cervantez looked at him, almost teasingly. Cadrez knew. Cervantez, his boss, was taunting him, challenging him to finish the job. It was not something he was afraid to do, nor had never done before. It’s just…the boy looked so young and so…vulnerable. He couldn’t put a finger to it. The boy was perhaps merely twelve, with short, dark, straight hair that fell carelessly around the face and eyes…the boy looked up briefly at the towering Cadrez, the expression of fleeting fear. And Cadrez’s own dark, smoky eyes gave a start – the boy’s eyes were of the clearest blue he had ever seen, and amidst the dark setting of his hair and tanned complexion, seemed bluer and swimming with lights. For a moment, Cadrez was mesmerized.

“ Don’t let those eyes get you, Cadrez! He put up such a fight that Sandov here is just waiting to get even – that is, if you won’t do it….”

Cadrez gritted his teeth. Sandov..the brute! Cadrez was tall for his age, and his neck-long, swept-back hair made his boyish face looked more matured, yet, he winced at the thought of the huge-sized Sandov even touching the boy. He had once been at the receiving end of those metallic-hard knuckles, bleeding profusely from the face, ribs smashed and only Cervantez’s intervention had saved him. That was five years ago, when he was about this boy’s age – famished, homeless and almost dying . He had attempted to pick pocket Cervantez, not knowing that this tall, well-dressed guy is one of police most-wanted don of the underworld. Of course, Sandoz hauled him and proceeded to clean up his face. He would have died – another statistics for the vagabonds on the streets. Yes, that was five years ago. Cervantez had took him in; fed him, clothed him and most of all mentored him, trusted him and he is now only second to Sandov in the eyes of Cervantez…..

Cervantez sighed.

“Finished the job Sandov.”

“No! I can do it.”

Cervantez smiled and gestured to Sandov to back away. Cadrez stooped down and pulled up the boy roughly by his left arm. The boy tried to struggle, but Cadrez pinned the boy’s left arm to his back. Positioning himself behind the small back, he pushed the boy down to his knees. It was like pushing air. The poor boy went down easily, grunting in pain as his knees smashed on the hard floor. Cadrez pushed the boy faced down as well, so that the boy’s left cheek was kissing the cool stone. He didn’t want to see the boy’s eyes. The boy groaned again. Cadrez bent down and straddled the boy’s back, trying hard not to put his full weight on the small back. He didn’t want to break the boy’s spine. He bent down and as he did that, he managed to whisper fiercely in the boy’s right ears,

“Don’t fight, boy! I will make this as painless as I can – I promise!”

When the boy was still trying to struggle, he whispered, almost desperately,

“Please…trust me!”

The boy somehow stopped struggling, letting out a stifled groan from the pressure on his pulled arm. Cradling the boy’s left arm in position in his own arms, Cadrez twisted the arm in one clean, powerful jerk. The small arm broke neatly at the elbow. The boy did not even let out a scream, but Cadrez could feel the body shaking and the boy stifling his voice. Cadrez knew the pain was excruciating. He had done this many times before but this was the first time there were no screams. He let go of the mangled arm, almost in shock. The boy slumped to the floor, letting his face fall into the cradle of his right arm, hiding his eyes. He was groaning softly, his eyes closed tightly in pain. His breathing grew softer and became almost inaudible. He had fainted.