SICK HEART by Huss, JA (non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

had my sister that night. Carrying her like a football, even though she was much bigger than Ainsey is now. Her legs were kicking and her arms were flopping. But he kept running, laughing, the entire time as he weaved his way around the maze of shipping containers.

I ran after him, yelling and screaming, but only with my hands. Because I didn’t know how to use my voice.

Udulf was coming up behind me when Lazar suddenly stopped and turned around.

Lazar put my sister down and Udulf…

I suck in a deep breath and skip ahead.

Lazar pulled a knife from a holster on his belt…

I skip ahead again. Coming back to the present. To the jungle. And just stare down at my bare feet.

Then I start walking again.

That day ended a long time ago and there is no reason to unlock the rest of that memory.

Because it is nothing but blood.

The monkeys near the cliffs are screaming their alarm long before I exit the jungle and find Lazar standing at the edge, looking down, Ainsey in his arms, looking with him.

My foot snaps a branch on the dirt floor and Lazar turns, panic on his face.

And how ironic is this? Twenty-something years later we are back in that maze. Him running with a little girl in his arms. Me chasing him down. But this time, the end belongs to me.

“Don’t take one more step, Sick Heart.” Lazar has a knife pressed against Ainsey’s neck. maybe even that same fucking knife he used to skin my sister in front of me.

For what? What possible reason could there be to skin a little girl alive?

Cruelty. Evil. That’s the only explanation for these people.

Lazar is panting hard from his run, his chest rising and falling in an alarming fashion, like he’s on the edge of a panic attack. “I will cut her fucking throat and throw her over. I swear to God I will.”

I nod at him. Give him a tight-lipped smile. “Yep. I’m sure you would. But if you do that, Lazar, I will pull your eyes out with my fingertips the same way I pulled Pavo’s heart from his chest.”

He scoffs, so fucking arrogant, and then he presses the knife just a little harder against Ainsey’s throat. His heightened threat trickles out as a tiny stream of blood. “I’ll do it,” he says again. His voice cracking.

And once again, I nod. “You’ve miscalculated here, Lazar.”

He sneers at me. “How the hell do you figure? I’ve got the knife and a scared little girl who I happen to know is important to you. You would give up everything for her, apparently. You agreed to this day.”

“Well,” I say calmly. “Yeah. I suppose that part is true. But here’s where you went wrong. She’s not a little girl, Lazar. She is nak su.”

Lazar’s head tips back to laugh just as Ainsey’s tiny fingers dig into his eyes.

He screams, stumbles backwards, and this is the moment when I really do panic. My feet are moving, my body crossing the distance between us, because they are falling…

Ainsey reaches for me as Lazar screams, and I snag her, pulling her with all my strength from his tight grip.

She comes free, but I hear the snap of her shoulder as I save her from the fall onto the rocks below.

Ainsey screams, her shoulder limp. But she’s safe. In my arms. And even my dumb ass knows how to put a shoulder back in place. Her relief is immediate when the bone slides back in and we both let out a long breath of relief.

“Fuck,” I say. Looking her over to see if she’s hurt. “Are you all right?”

She holds her palm up and says, “High-five.”

I just stare at her for a moment. Sad that she can adjust so easily.

Then vow to change that as soon as I can.

But I still high-five her.

Gunshots ring out on the other side of the jungle. “Shit. We gotta go.” I pick her up, go back into the trees, and start making my way north along the cliffs, towards my ship.

A branch snaps behind me, and when I whirl around, I find the reporter and her cameraman, both with their hands up, like I’m about to rob them.

“It’s just us!” she says. “We’re just trying to get away.”

I look her up and down with disgust. “Get all that on film, did ya?”

“That’s my job,” she sneers back at me. “I tell stories.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You steal stories. And you’re not a part of this one, so you can’t have it.”

More gunshots ring out in the distance. More yelling. The reporter looks over her shoulder, very nervous about what’s happening in that direction. Then she looks back at me. “I’m just as much a part of this story as you are. I see the way you look at me. I know what you fighters think of me. And fuck you, Sick Heart. Fuck you. This is my story too.”

I shrug. “You’re a footnote. Maybe. You’re not coming with us. I don’t care what you’ve been through, you’re not coming with us. I will not be your rescue. You didn’t earn it.”

She flips me off. “Go fuck yourself. I can start wars with my footage. I can change the world with my stories.”

“Then go do that, bitch. Don’t waste your time telling me about it. Because I don’t care.” Then I turn my back to her and start running for the ship.

But she calls out, “Who do you care about, Sick Heart? That little girl with your gray eyes? Is she the only one who matters to you now? Is she the only one who gets a rescue?”

I slow down, turn and walk backwards, shaking my head. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“The only way people like us get saved is if we rescue ourselves. And if a pack of disposable kids can come up with a plan to take on an elite cabal in the middle of a jungle, then you