Defying Expectations

The hundreds of faces in the rowdy marketplace froze, as though time trickled to a standstill. I looked around, each pair of eyes hurling disbelief at me.

Warm blood gushed from my palm.

My chest contracted and expanded so rapidly I could feel the air pressure fluctuate. Ahmed, behind me, was already retreating—his calf muscles strained to reverse his direction. Khaleed, two heartbeats to my right, was about to scream, wanting my head.

The warm viscous fluid flowed down my forearm, crimson tendrils reached down, droplets pelting the dirt below.

The first cry emanated, igniting the inferno of chaos. How could a girl do what I just did? Their tiny brains probably exploded millions of times over. I was property, a plaything, an object of desire to be used and abused.

My sister, Jameela, was crouched on her knees, papa's battered head lay cradled in her arms. The gaping hole just above his cheekbone still fresh.

The gun that killed my father fell from Hussein's limp hand.

I felt pure unadulterated rage. All papa did was leap to his daughter's defense, to shield her from prodding eyes as they tore her clothes off, to be paraded like a prized cow.

My eyes were scalding.

I released Hussein's mangled skull, letting it fall. I lifted my foot next, above the bloody carnage. The sickening crunch as I dug my heels into the mess of bone fragments, fleshy sinews, and brain matter was the last straw; but judging from their horrified expressions, it was more flight than fight.

Those animals never stood a chance. I could've vapourised them all with just a look, but I wanted them to feel pain. My father's pain. Jameela's pain. My pain.

I am Kale'na, of the House El, the last daughter of Krypton.