4. Kazia
4
KAZIA
" K azia. My Kazia."
I knew that voice—my mother.
My eyes popped open, and darkness surrounded me. Moving my arms and legs did nothing, like a tether kept me suspended in space and not of my own volition. It was almost like I was treading a line between consciousness and reality, and yet I was not the one in the driver's seat.
“Kazia. You need to see. To understand.”
The voice flew around me like a whip of the wind, causing me to turn around in the dark to try to follow it.
I carefully followed the voice's direction with nothing but darkness in front of me. I didn't want to lose it, lose her. Not again.
Picking up the pace, I ended up running. The sound of my feet landing on a surface began to fade, and my heart picked up. No. I needed to follow the voice. I needed to find out what she wanted me to know.
With that need clawing in the back of my head, I pumped my arms, hoping that I would make it. I just needed to make it.
I took my next step, and it was like the ground was pulled out from under me, and I was falling. With a scream lodged in my throat, I spread my limbs out, trying to grasp or touch anything. Something tangible I could focus on.
Logic dissipated with each second that passed, and my emotions kicked in. I didn't want to die. I just lost my mom, and I’ve only touched a few of the steps of grieving. My mom's voice filled my head, “Survive, my Kazia. That’s the way of the Romani. Adapt and survive. Nature will help us in this endeavor if we let it.”
As a kid, I always took that as her telling me someone was out to get us and we needed to be hidden to survive. As an adult, I learned that true survival was about your skills to acclimate to your surroundings. It's why I got into psychology in the first place. I wanted to know those around me and be able to adapt and conform. To see and understand while keeping myself close to the chest, but at this moment, something deep inside me was telling me to let go. To let go of all of that training and knowledge and be free.
Everything inside me wanted to kick into full gear to survive this situation. My heart raced, and a frenzied panic crept on the edges of my mind as I saw no way to escape this; that was when something soft and warm filled my chest. A reassuring sensation that everything was going to be okay. If I were going to die, I would want to die feeling cozy rather than freaking out, so I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. I let go of all the teaching I’d been taught in school, of all the logic, the memories that have shaped my outlook on life, and I just gave in to the silent darkness. If I were going to die, it would be on my terms.
“Kazia, open wide. Let it go.”
Stilling my flailing arms and legs, I let them fall to my side, letting go of the control of my body. For a split second, my blood froze, and fear took over, but I let that feeling pass through me like the wind.
All at once, my body became buoyant, floating instead of falling until my ass slammed into a solid surface with a thud. Lifting my hand to my head, a dizzy sensation took over my brain until the darkness shifted, disappearing like an ink-hazed mist. Pops of yellows, reds, and green colors began to come through, and I reached for the colors.
My fingers wove through a wet dew of soft green spears. As colors became increasingly visible, a sweet floral scent with a hint of cedar filled my nose. Outside. I was outside somewhere, somehow.
A field of flowers and hills filled my view in the blink of an eye. The vibrant greens played with the golden yellow rays, dancing along the shadowed edges as the sun set on the vivid scenery. It was beautiful, almost majestic—this period of twilight.
Closing my eyes, I let myself feel this space and time, trying to let go of my mind that wanted to figure it all out analytically and just be present in the moment.
I don't know how long I was like that because as soon as I opened my eyes, the sky was dark, and the moon was out, lighting up the whole field with its moonbeams. Looking at the full moon, so close it looked like it was within your reach, I smiled. My mom would’ve loved this moon. She would’ve grabbed my hands and wanted to dance underneath it and sing songs of the moon and its blessings.
“Listen to your heart.”
Snapping my head around, I tried to see who had said that, but it was an open field, and no one else was there.
“Listen with your heart first. Head later. They’re yours, our Chovihani.”
This time, I looked up, my brain trying to connect a mouth with the words I heard, but there was none.
A flapping sound caught my attention, and I looked to the side to see a white dove approaching me. It landed before me, looked at me with its beady eye, and cooed. Something about this bird felt familiar. I watched it trot around in front of me, almost like it was showing itself off before it faced me and sat down. The more I looked at the dove, the more something inside of me propelled me to go forward, to reach out, like my soul was connected with this being, this creature.
Instinctively, my hand lifted, wanting to touch this dove that now felt like mine. I saw it bow its head, almost like an invitation to touch it, but my eyes caught on a symbol that appeared inside my forearm. Dark lines appeared, almost like an invisible person was writing on me, and my eyes followed the strokes. The design hypnotized me.
As soon as the lines stopped forming, I pulled my arm close to look, but a burning sensation spread as it took over my whole arm. What the fuck is happening to me? Before I started to freak out, I touched it, intending to rub it off, when a hot pulsing sensation thumped under my fingers, and I jerked back. That was not a regular type of tattoo. Regular tattoos don’t feel alive, connected to something on the other end.
I didn't like this. No. My insides clenched, my heart racing so hard my chest hurt. A ragged exhale slipped from my lips, and I clutched my forearm. My mind raced: this isn't real, this can't be . At least, that's what I thought before a searing pain filled my veins, and I gritted my teeth.
The dove hopped up on my leg and trotted closer to me, and the burning sensation began to lessen. In pure shock, I watched the dove lay its wing on my arm, and the pain immediately receded.
Once the dove removed its wing, I gasped at the drawing on my arm. It was an eye, the all-seeing eye. Lifting my left hand, I touched the design to feel its realness. With no warning, my body flung back as soon as my finger touched my right forearm, and everything went dark.
My eyes flew open as I flung myself up, grasping at my chest as the pounding of my heart echoed in every cell in my body. I was okay. I blinked. I wasn't in that place of infinite darkness. Gulping down some air, my pulse leveled out and my eyes adjusted.
Glancing around, I noticed four bare walls and a closed door to my right. My fingers slid against the soft sheets I was tucked into, and I realized this was not my bedroom. What the fuck happened to me? Was that all a dream? The whole thing felt familiar, like I’d done that before, but I didn’t know what that was. Even with my mind consumed by this weird dream, my instincts told me I was in trouble and needed to get out.
Being as quiet as possible, I moved, shifting to get out of the bed before strong, rough callus fingers wrapped around my wrist and held tight. A fingernail scraped along my wrist, jolting my body, and his voice sounded, “Don't worry, my Roma. I won't let them take you away.” How the fuck did he know that about me? Fear turned my body cold, frozen in space, as his hand ran up my arm and softly cupped my face. Caressing my jaw like a lover.
A sigh caressed my ear, his lips so close I could feel his hesitation, his anticipation. “They don't know,” his fingers walked along my skin from my chin to my throat, curling his hand around it and holding it there, a reminder of my position in his hands. “They don’t believe, but don't hold it against them. They’ll come around. They’re my brothers, after all. We’ll have to get along eventually.”
My whole body froze, every muscle not making a single sound as I cataloged my situation. It seemed like the man at my mother's grave drugged and kidnapped me, then took me to his house where his brothers are, and they don't seem to like that I’m here. That makes sense. Who would want some random kidnapped girl in their house? That had felony written all over it.
His inky hand left my neck, and I felt the air shift around me, the only indicator that he had moved. The eerie silence left in his wake frightened me more than having his hand on me. At least with that, I knew where he was. At this point, he could be anywhere, doing anything.
A lamp clicked on, and I flinched at the soft, warm glow from the side table before me. His deceptively beautiful face, half on display, reminded me more and more of our first meeting.
He approached me carefully, cocking his head to the side for a few seconds before continuing his advancement. The bed dipped as he sat before me, smiling like everything was normal. Everything about this situation was just regular life.
“They tell me you're the one, but they didn't have to. I feel it.” He leaned forward, and my body burst into action, scooting away from him as fast as I could, that was until my left ankle jerked me back.
He shook his head, looking down, his nose crinkling up in disgust as he tugged at the blankets to reveal my ankle cuffed in a thick nylon rope that was tethered to the bed. “I didn't want to do that to you,” his face turned up, his emerald eyes wide and watery like it pained him to continue, “but…” His whole face changed; his eyes went hard, and his face turned down, his body shaking uncontrollably. “It was the only way they would accept you staying!” He smacked the bed so hard I jumped again, everything inside of me telling me to run.
This man was unstable. That I knew, but his growing obsession with me was also alarming. My psych student mind forced its way to the forefront, reminding me that I could survive this if I got him on my side. I needed to test how much he cared.
Closing my eyes, I let out a soft sob. His whole body turned to me. His hands hovered over me like he didn't know what to do about me or how to help. “W-what is going on? Are you hurt?”
His eyes searched for the culprit of my pain, but I kept my face down as I whispered my reply, “The rope hurts, and I just… I’m nervous your brothers will want to eliminate me when you aren't looking.”
Flicking my eyes up through my lashes, making my lip quiver, I wanted to ensure I looked helpless and pitiful. He lunged forward, wrapping gentle hands around me as he held me, and I made sure to choke down a sob. “Shhhh. I won't let that happen.”
“B-b-but,-”
He pulled me away and cupped my face with both hands as he leaned his forehead against mine. “I. Won't. Let. Them.” The fierceness in his voice was absolute, “They would have to kill me first, and neither of them have the guts for that.” His hands wove into my hair, carefully holding me in place. “They don’t know how this feels. At least not yet… but they will.”
His deranged, knowing smile threw me off, and I couldn't keep my face from scrunching up in confusion. Talking to him felt like I was working with only half the information he knew. “B-b-but you don't even know me?”
He was so close to me that I watched golden specks twinkle in his jewel-green eyes, staring into mine like he was trying to get lost. “I know more than you think, Kazia Lee, daughter of Margaret Jones. A recent graduate of psychology at Falcon University. You have an apartment fifteen minutes from your mother's house, and your favorite color is green, even if your whole wardrobe is a sea of grays, blacks, and white.”
The bed creaked as he shifted, and my stomach flopped as it grew harder and harder to swallow. “I know so many things, but it's not enough. I want to know more…. I want to know all the things.” His face hovered over mine as he moved from my lips to my cheek, down my neck. “I want to crack you open and watch your heartbeat, memorize its pattern so I can know it anywhere just by sound.”
My muscles seized, words barely falling from my lips, “P-p-please, don’t hurt me.” This time, I wasn't trying to sound weak. I wasn't trying to trick him. The truth spilled from me before I could catch it.
He froze, his grip on my hair growing tighter, his hot breath against my collarbone. “I vow never to harm a hair on this head.” He jerked upward and faced me, causing me to gasp at his lightning-quick reflexes. “You’re my savior. My person. My Romani. They told me so, and you know that they speak for the forces of nature that are not to be taken lightly.”
“T-t-they?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “they even said I’m your tool, guild, and protector.” Shifting back, he laid his head in my lap, taking my hand and resting it on his head. “Then, when it’s all done, we’re destined to be together forever.” His wistful sigh caught me off guard, and before I knew what I was doing, I ran my hand through his silky, dirty blonde locks.
“Mmmm,” he wrapped his arms around my waist, smiling as he closed his eyes. “Silence has never felt so sweet.” Burrowing his head deeper into my lap, he mumbled. “This is what I’ve been missing.”
Sitting there with this stranger in my lap, my thoughts were all over the place. What the hell was he talking about? Who are they? A bigger question: who are his brothers? Are they just as tattooed, violently beautiful, and psycho as him? He purred underneath my musings, feeling like a huge, ferocious lion was on my lap, ready to strike at any moment if I didn't play along.
Running my hands through his hair helped me focus on my situation. Glancing at my tied-up ankle, I knew I was in trouble. I just didn't know why. Why me? Why was I the one the crazy man brought home and kept like a pet?!
Breath, Kazia, breath. You need to clear your head. Think.
Thinking back to our interactions, other than drugging me, he hasn't hurt me…yet. He was for sure dangerous and a threat to my life; I mean, he drugged and kidnapped me, but at least I wasn't tied up to a table with him above me, threatening to chop off body parts. That was something to be thankful for.
A small fact from my psych studies came barreling through my brain, reminding me that most killers take their time with their prey. Biting the inside of my cheek, I thought the day was still young, and it could quickly get worse.
Looking down, my hands trembled, and my sensible side reared up with force. Stop freaking yourself out, Kazia! Shoving my hands underneath me, I reminded myself to breathe and stay calm. I needed to keep a clear mind and do everything and anything I could to survive this. Eyes rising, focusing on the volatile man before me, I knew I needed to calm him down first, make myself valuable to him… then wait for my moment to escape. I needed to survive this.
Old feelings from my childhood bubbled up; the overwhelming drive and the need to survive flooded my head. A strength I always held in reserve filled my soul with an unmatched determination. My mother taught me that I could only give up once I was dead, and that was my guiding north from now on. Never give up. Survive.
Glancing down, this man's eyes were closed, and a smile on his lips. And at that moment, he didn't look intimidating. He looked almost angelic, which was more jarring. His fingers dug into me like he could hear my thoughts, clutching like a child, smiling like he was on cloud nine. No malice or ill intent came from him, again making me wonder why I was going through all this. What was his motive?
Did he want to keep me locked up forever? Did the “they” he spoke about have a plan?
“Cezar,” he whispered, bringing me out of my thoughts.
His eyes opened, and those spellbinding green eyes caught me and pulled me in. “That's my name.” I nodded, and he smiled wider. “Say it.”
Gulping down, I could hear the command in his voice, and I fought to smile down at him. “Cezar. It's a pretty name. I like it.”
His whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. I could see from just that reaction that he had received little love and praise in his life. While the side of me that wanted to help people had her heartstrings tugged, the side that was determined to live knew I could use this to my advantage.
Scooting closer to me, he opened his mouth but was interrupted by banging on the door, and a cranky, low voice called out, “We need to talk. Get out here.”
Cezar clutched me harder like I would slip out of his fingers at any moment. Shaking his head, he mumbled, “I know. I know. They have to get on board, but it's two against one.” He lifted his head, his eyes drilling into mine like he was talking more about me than to me. “I’ll make them. They said you’re the only way. Our last.”
Before I could ask him what he meant, he popped up and strode to the door. Dread filled my bones as I looked around the unfamiliar room—desperate words caught in my throat. Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone. Biting my lip to keep the words from spilling, a copper taste filled my mouth, reminding me to be strong and not give in.
“I’ll be back. Make sure you drink that water on the nightstand.” The door opened, and the light shone on him, his arms and neck covered in tattoos. However, the large eye on his neck was taunting me, watching me even with his back turned.
He glanced back; his sheepish grin had me nodding and smiling back at him. “I'm sure you're starving, so I’ll bring you something. Plus, you need more meat on your bones. My woman can't be a stick.” He slipped through the door without a second thought. The closing of the door echoed, and the reality of my situation came crashing down.
Everything felt stagnant like all life got sucked out of the room as soon as he left. His footsteps echoed, the sound of them jarring me to look around, and I saw the glass of water on the nightstand. Water. I need to drink something. Leaning over, my fingers curled around the glass, bringing it to my face, and I paused. Glancing down at the clear liquid, the silence in the room deafening as my chest began to collapse. Tears spilled over, the small quake rippling in the water as I shook. Setting the water down, the glass clicked against the wood of the nightstand, I covered my mouth to muffle my cries and allowed myself to get it all out. Give me a moment to wallow in my situation because, after that, I’ll no longer throw myself a pity party. No. I was only going to focus on getting out of this alive.