“I have a lot to teach you before I leave.” Pain strikes my heart when I say the word—leave. I can’t imagine leaving this girl. Not seeing her every day. Not talking. Not being in her life. It can’t be true.
I let go of her hand and face her.
“Okay, first lesson, self-defense,” I start.
“I know how to defend myself.” She folds her arms and pouts, offended.
“Do you?”
She nods furiously.
We are relatively close in size. I have maybe an inch on her, but soon the boys at school will tower over her. They’ll have more muscle and strength than she’ll ever dream about. Not to mention all the creepy uncles and neighbors that Liesel will interact with in her life. She needs to be able to protect herself if I’m not here to do it.
I grab her, throwing my arms as tightly as I can around her, already knowing that I’m stronger than she is.
She wiggles in my arms. “Let me go, you asshole.”
I hold her tighter.
“You can do this, huntress. Don’t panic, think of a way to escape. Find my weakness and exploit it. Then run.”
She stops struggling and thinks for a moment.
I search her eyes, trying to guess what she’s going to do before she does it, preparing myself for her move.
Her knee pummels into my groin. I immediately release her, and she takes a step back, laughing lightly as I double over in pain.
“That’s not funny,” I say, my voice squeaking from the pain.
“It is to me.”
“I told you to run after you got free.”
“I know how to run. What’s the next lesson you’re worried about before you leave? Going to teach me how to kill too?”
We’ve never talked about it, but she knows what I’m capable of. I don’t know how or why, but my future will involve killing people. It’s not abnormal for our neighborhood; you either kill or be killed. My father tops the list of people that deserve to die. I’m too small to accomplish the task now, but soon…
I haven’t killed yet, but I know how to hold a gun. I know how to use a knife; all I’m waiting for are my muscles to come in and the right opportunity.
But Liesel will never have to kill. I won’t allow her soul to be in the torment t
o which mine is destined.
“No. We keep our promises. You’ll hunt when I need you to.”
“And you’ll kill for me,” she whispers back.
I nod. “I won’t let you kill. I’ll kill for you. No matter where I live. No matter where I go to school. I promise you.”
She exhales a heavy breath.
“And you promise you’ll never kill? You will call me and let me do it?”
“Yes,” she says.
I’ll hold her to that.
I don’t have to worry about her killing to survive. I taught her the basics for protection, although, she’ll need more lessons. What’s more worrying is that she doesn’t have any money or food. I’ve stolen food and money for us when we needed it. None of our parents can provide such simple things. At eight, we already have to feed ourselves.