IV

A pair of flashlights glowed in the distance: a patrol, our sign to run away.

He grabbed my hand and hurtled aimlessly. The sudden motion must’ve caused suspicion, since I immediately heard heels running after us.

After half an hour of running, twisting and turning, the man and I stopped under a bridge, still panting, we somehow escaped.

I asked about his name.

He didn’t answer.

‘Where are you from?’

He immediately responded, clearly had his words ready, perhaps expecting such questions. ‘What’s it with you white folk? Every time you see a brown man, you gotta ask things?’

‘I’m sorry.’ I answered mindlessly.

‘No, you’re not sorry. You’re not wrong either. You’re just a damn kid.’

That stung.

‘I shouldn’t be here,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t be doing any of this. I shouldn’t drink either. My pa caught me drinking once, he whipped me with an olive tree branch.’

I was curious but did not ask. If he wanted to open his wounds, I wasn’t going to be the one to do it for him.

‘I should’ve stayed with them.’ He yawned, ‘But I left. Listen lady, whatever happens to me, nobody’s ever gonna look. But you’re different. You should go home.’

As he seemed to doze off, I was slowly coming to realise why I’d been drawn into this man. He was exactly what I’d wanted: a vulnerable version of my father.

He closed his eyes and laid flat.

I wasn’t feeling sleepy at all. On the contrary, my heart raced, my face felt like a burning ember as thoughts – dark and sinister – filled my mind.

He was right there. Within an arm’s length of me.

From then onwards, there was no stopping me.

My hands slowly wrapped around his neck, I realised my grip wasn’t nearly enough. It might’ve been a small issue, but to the intoxicated mind, no issues were small.

I just closed my tearful eyes and tightened.

Twenty full seconds of silence were interrupted by a struggle. First the pitiful look of disbelief, then the angry expression of betrayal. Finally, fear.

They then cycled for two more minutes before, once more, it was silent.

The first flickers of daylight blinded my eyes as I looked up. The sun was rising between the horizon below and the bridge above. Its light arriving through countless green leaves.

There was a grin on my face. Euphoria filled me as I shed away all worry and fear.

I had killed my father.

Which made me wonder.

How good would it feel to kill the real one?