74

Give me yer magic essence," he says again, the calm gone from his voice.
I stagger back another step, my hand still numb.
"My Gift?" I squeak and point a finger at myself. "Me?"
It's like he’s just asked me to undress. I’ll be naked without my gift.
His weight shifts slightly, I don't have time to react before he punches me so hard that I literally fly in the air and land in a crushing blow on the floor.
And then I feel the pain.
Hard.
Fierce.
Hot.
Blinding.
Blood trails down my nose and I bite my bottom lip to stop from screaming, the nausea bubbles with a sudden jolt.
He is walking toward me, his eyes wide with excitement.
I stare at him in horror, crawling backwards. Sithole follows, patient, graceful in his walk. Almost dancing.
I search my side for my sword. Its gone. It must've fallen when he threw me against the wall. It's near Mama but her hands are bound. She can't get it for me.
"Ya wanna fight, huh?" He grins. "Ya're my kind of opponent."
With a predatory glare, his eyes roam over me, revelling in the delight of his good fortune, I assume.
I'm defenseless. My magic is his to steal.
I slap him. It thrills him and he picks me up by the collar of my shirt and hurls me across the room, into the opposite wall.
I have no time to be surprised by his strength as my back connects with the hard brick wall and my arm breaks, the bone sticking through my skin. As soon as a scream of agony tears through my lungs, a rumble of thunder cracks as though directly in the house.
There's no chance of anyone hearing us. I am sure the thunder blocks the screams of terror so that it doesn't reach any of the neighbours.
The blood floors around me in an instant and soaks my clothes and hair. The pain crippling me and I spill my breakfast on the dirty floor.
He laughs. "This is so much fun... brilliant!" he is so excited.
I kneel, whimpering in pain. I must get to my feet. But then I realise, I can’t move. I’m paralysed. He has Commodore’s gift. And he wouldn’t have my brother’s gift if he was really dead. Commodore’s alive.
Sithole crosses the room, he is looking Mama in the eye, smiling at her.
He lowers himself into a squat in front of me, and grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my face to his.
A cold surge of agony pierces through me.
"This is fairly entertaining don't ya think?" He is smiling. "Wanna see something more exciting?" He leaps to his feet at once.
He walks, no dances, across the room. His salsa moves are clumsy with excitement, he is whistling, excited. He towers over my shaking, pain-struck body and throws his head back in laughter.
He lowers himself enough for his fingers to touch my bloody face. He is still humming a song as he withdraws his fingers and licks the blood off.
My gaze is still on Mama; horrified and panicked, watching me in utter despair, it feels like she doesn't know what to do. How to help. I close my eyes. I can't bare to watch my mother like that.
"Open yer eyes, Imani!" he orders in a growl. "Look at the hopelessness in yer mother's eyes. Hmm... she does care. Which makes this all the more exciting."
Tears of frustration cloud my vision, and I wish for an end. Wish that he will soon get bored and find something else to play with.
This is just a game to him. He is a sick twisted man.
The thunder is rumbling still overhead.
I am in hell, the flames licking at my skin in ferocious force. I feel like a useless firefighter, unable to stop the flames, the intensity of the heat. My bones are broken, hurting, it seems like a feeling I knew all too well, the same feeling I get when the steam of the kettle full of boiling water makes contact with my skin only this is a thousand times worse.
“I can’t let ya leave yer own party just yet, can I?” Sithole growls at me. “This is my definition of fun, really.”
He punches my stomach, and I launch into a coughing fit, bile rising up my throat and I empty my stomach. My good hand, trembling, is bloodied when I pull it back from wiping my mouth. I try to move my feet, they're still paralysed.
“Ya're ungrateful, Rowena, I gave ya a good life. All ya had to do was stay away from Whele, now ya see what ya made me do, huh? I loved ya.” His lips curl up with amusement. “I can’t begin to imagine how angry the wolf will be when he finally joins the party, um?” He chuckles.
His fist lift, positioned narrowly with my mouth. I close my eyes in terror, still paralysed, anticipating the pain, but several minutes pass. I open my eyes and blink away the tears. Sithole is smiling wickedly at me.
“Do ya want me to stop?” he asks.
"Please," I groan, pain shooting through me as I speak.
His chest rumbles with laughter, mimicking the roar of the thunder outside.
“I was hoping ya’d say this,” he muses. “As pathetic a creature ya are, ya certainly are an amusement. I’m going to enjoy breaking ya, it’s my speciality.
“I’m going to enjoy myself tremendously and even more thrilling, Rowena is going to watch, just like I watched her husband destroy my mother's life.”
Isn’t this agony enough for him? What else can he do to me?
He is smiling now, his eyes malicious — I have no doubt in my mind that there is still more pain, that he’ll kill me today.
I can't possibly begin to imagine how frightening I must look right now. I feel bad for whoever is unfortunate enough to find my body. I just hope it won't be D'ziko or Kaseke.
My head reels as I hear a sickening sound that echoes around the room; my sword. My real sword. Its magic buzzing through the air, fighting for me. I watch Sithole's eyes gleam smugly as he yanks my sword and its red glow dims.
Paralysed, defenceless, I am entirely at his mercy, yet I have a numbing suspicion that he won't show any of that to me.
Pain I can handle, death I can handle but this… his hand lowering… taking my wrist, I know I’m not strong enough for it.
I deliberately starve my lungs of air. I don't want to live through this.
I can feel the horrified expression on my face, and the tears continue to pool in my eyes.