Black Keys (The Colorblind Trilogy #1) (46 page)

“One day–a day I’ve been calling The Black Day since I lived it–he had to go in early, and the driver took me there, near the building where we usually waited for my grandfather to come and take me. My first class started at nine o’clock; we were very late and I was annoyed by that fact, but I knew that my grandfather would somehow drive me in on time. The driver left the car, but I could see him as he took a few steps away from it, leaned on a wall, then lit a cigarette. It was only a minute or two later that I heard the most horrible sound I’d ever heard in my whole life, the sound of an explosion, a loud thud, glass crashing and steel twisting.” My voice cracked and my tears stayed fresh on my cheeks, my arms coming to hug my body, trying my best to keep myself as calm as possible so I could finish saying what I wanted him to know.

“I think I could never tell you how scared I was, seeing everyone running around me, screaming. The driver nowhere to be found: he ran or something, he was just...not there. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I could only hug my knees to myself and cry and shake…and watch.” My breathing started to become uneven, and I still tried my best to control it. By that point, I didn’t even think about what the prince was doing behind me anymore or if he was listening or whatever. I was nine years old again and trapped in the car, watching with teary and terrified eyes as people ran, shouted, cried and screamed.

“Papa!” My voice was panicked and my breaths were shallow, fear filling my insides and tears filling my eyes.

“Manon.” His voice was very low and his breaths were barely there. Worry filling his words, and an undeniable sorrow was in his tone.

“Papa, I’m so scared, please come here already.” Begs and pleas.

“I’m afraid I won’t make it this time, Sweetie-Pie.” Gasps and sobs.

“No, no, Papa, you have to come here, you have to.”

“Papa loves you so much, Manon.”

“My grandfather called me, his last words were that he loved me, calling me with the name that I never allowed anyone to call me ever again. It was ours, and I made sure that it stayed that way.” A wave of longing hit my heart; I missed him so much, it hurt so badly. “And when the call ended, the scene around me just didn’t, nor did the fear in my heart.”

The space between the backseat and the passenger seat felt so tiny as I slid myself down there, my eyes refusing to obey my mind’s order for them to close tightly shut. They stayed wide open, watching in terror all of the horrible things happening around me.

My tears blurred my vision, and somehow I was grateful for it, because the sight would be cloudy for a moment, preventing more horrible things from entering my mind. But it would clear again way too soon when my tears would escape my eyes.

The smell of something metallic burning, all of the smoke up above that I could see through the window, filling the place around the car, my hands too shaky and too scared to leave my knees and close the opened window, my head moving frantically to the sides, my body pulling up to see something, then curling down when the ‘something’ caused me to scream with closed lips, too scared to even open my mouth. Wanting to be found yet so afraid, that being lost and forgotten would be better, because the world outside of the car was too terrifying to even think about leaving.

My grandpa had never lied to me. Never. But I kept wishing that he had finally done so. That he’d lied when he told me he wouldn’t make it. That he would come eventually and end this nightmare with his warm smile and loving hug.

“Do you have any idea how I felt as I watched people jumping from the building to the ground? Right before my eyes, I saw it all. And when I heard the second explosion...I couldn’t stop the shaking in my body after that, I was literally vibrating,” I rubbed my throat with my hand, desperate for the tightness in it to lighten a bit, just a bit so I would be able to talk, and I think it worked. Just a bit.

I could never, ever forget the bloodcurdling screams I heard coming from thousands of New Yorkers as the first building collapsed. I could never forget how much it hurt as I kept screaming and crying for Papa to come and save me while I watched more horrific moments and witnessed the most awful thing you could ever see in your life. I could never forget the smell of dirt, smoke and ashes that filled my lungs to the point it was a miracle I stayed alive.

Maybe I passed out, maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was mere hours before I was found, but it still felt like ages and ages. Maybe I wet myself. Maybe I lost my voice screaming. Maybe I was blinded by the gray dirt that filled everywhere. Maybe I grew deaf from all of the sirens going off around me. Maybe I was nothing but a ball of frightened feelings and a broken heart. But I still felt it all, I still had it all: tough, rough, ugly and agonizing.

The fireman that saved me looked like an alien to me. He was covered in dirt, gray from head to toe, his clothes had some tears in them, and maybe even blood–I couldn’t tell through all of the ashes covering his body. I didn’t want to go with him, but was too weak to resist. When he carried me while shushing me, I found a hint of comfort in his arms and even in the roughness of his dirty uniform against my face. My nameless, faceless hero who took me to a safe place where I was taken care of, he might as well have been an angel God had sent to me, for all I knew.

“My grandmother never left my side after that. She walked us through our loss, held my hand all the way, made sure that I knew who’d done this to us, who was responsible for my Papa’s death, and their religion and their roots. I was never able to go to school again. She homeschooled me, taught me almost everything I know. Her first priority was that I stay away from even
learning
anything about those who’d killed my grandfather other than just that: they killed him,” I choked out, my lips trembling and my voice cracking.

“I admit that before I came here, I didn’t know anything about Muslims other than they kill in the name of their religion. I didn’t even know the name you call God. I’ve learned a lot,” I said. “I admit you were good to me, you treated me with respect and...care. You were so patient with me even when I was so awful to you. I know we made a deal, but I just knew that I couldn’t trust you. I couldn’t tell you that I couldn’t stay here. I thought you might do something bad to me if I didn’t go along with it. And when you promised to keep me safe, I wanted to believe you, I really did, but...it’s inside of me, I couldn’t help it. I just had to
not
trust you, and the first chance I saw to go home, I just took it,” I cried.

It was only then that I felt his hand touching the back of my elbow softly. He held it and forced me gently to turn around to face him. Though I did turn around and face him, I still wouldn’t look in his eyes–couldn’t, not even when his fingertips touched my chin and raised my head up slightly.

“Look at me, Princess,” he whispered softly, his voice so, so close, causing a wave of calmness to wash over me. Like magic, it was just like magic. “Please, look at me.”

I did. His eyes held something heavy inside of them, something warm, like sunshine. Something tender, like butterfly wings. Something passionate, something…caring, curing,
loving
.

“If I’d known you didn’t want to stay, I would’ve come up with something else,” he repeated his words from earlier. “I swear to God, I would’ve never kept you here for even one day if I’d known you weren’t okay with it or didn’t want to do it.”

He swore!

“You’re not held prisoner here, Princess,” he said sincerely, his thumbs removing tears as he hugged my face with his hands. “If you’d told me or even given me any hint that you really wanted to leave, I would’ve helped you with all I could to get you back safely to your country, I swear. I would’ve figured out something, I swear I would have. I knew you weren’t very happy about staying here, but I thought you wanted to help. I didn’t know you didn’t want that at all.”

I nodded my head frantically, tears falling, lips pressed into a tight line and eyes fixed on his, my heart believing him, but my mind judging me and calling me stupid.

“I’m so sorry for what you went through,” he said, honesty dripping from his voice. “I’m even sorry I can’t find a better word than ‘sorry,’ but I swear if I had the power to turn back time and save you from going through all of this...I would’ve done it in the blink of an eye. I swear.”

I don’t know if it was me who threw myself into his arms, or it was him who pulled me to his body, but I just knew that in that moment I found myself hugging him so tightly, and him doing the same. I was crying so hard into his chest, and he was soothing me, hushing me, his hand smoothing my hair, and his heart sending calming waves to mine.

“I–I didn’t want to tell you a sob story, I j-just wanted you to understand. I’m not judgmental, I’m not racist,” I sobbed and tried to defend myself. “Muslims took my grandfather away from me, they killed him. I can’t trust Muslims, and all Arabs are Muslims, or so I thought. I can’t trust Arabs as well, I just can’t.” I sounded hysterical even to my own ears.

“Shhh, Princess, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed, kissing my hair with the most tender sensation you could ever feel, and then resting his cheek on the top of my head, hugging me tighter. “You can trust me, you can, you know you can.”

And he was right, I always knew I could. I just didn’t want to. But after last night and what he’d done, after this morning and what he’d said…I did.

I trusted him.

My eyes closed, my heart settled down a bit, and my tense body relaxed in his arms. The feel of his body pressed against mine that way did such wonders in calming me that I almost hummed, or maybe I really did, but it was quiet even to my own ears.

I liked it there. In his arms. I liked his hug. I liked his closeness. But most of all, I liked what I felt. The same thing I always felt whenever he took me in his arms. But this time it was double. A bit more than double, even.

Safety and comfort.

A moment later, my eyes snapped open, and I was suddenly aware of what I was really feeling. Something flashed in my mind, telling me how wrong I was for doing what I was doing. What I was feeling. And I had to pull away, instantly feeling empty and missing the sound of his heartbeat thumping against my ear as I pressed my cheek to his chest.

My back faced him as I turned away from him, and my hand came up to touch my temple, rubbing it softly. My head was pounding and my heart was hurting. In my ears, I could hear the sound of my grandmother as she told me how disappointed in me she was. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve sworn I could see the judging look in her eyes: judging me for being a traitor, to her and to my grandfather’s memory.

I felt his hand pulling me to him again. He was silent this time, didn’t tell me to look up at him or gaze into his eyes. He just held my face between his hands, and gave me all of the time I needed until I looked up on my own and stared into his beautiful green eyes.

“Stop running away from me,” he whispered softly. “Stop running away from me, Beautiful Princess.”

My eyes welled up with tears, and I closed them, freeing a lone tear that told of the struggle inside of me. I think he was able to see clearly how I was at war with myself with how I was acting; he was that smart, I knew he was.

Maybe I confused him a bit, but now after hearing my reasons and why I felt this way towards him and his people, I was sure he knew it wasn’t easy for me to admit, even between me and myself, that I trusted him.

“Talk to me.” His voice was a hushed whisper, tender calmness and quiet coolness.

My eyes opened and found his again, getting lost in them instantly, my heart warming at all of the beautiful feelings they were sending me, and all of the kind words they were silently telling me.

“Tell me all about it, Princess,” he breathed. “Tell me everything you feel, tell me what’s in your mind.”

“I want to trust you,” I said, still not able to voice that I
did
trust him, still not able to admit it aloud, “But...I feel like a cheater.”

“Because of your grandfather?”

I sucked both of my lips inside of my mouth, took a deep breath in through my nose, let it out, then nodded.

It was the prince’s turn to nod, but his nod was in understanding, not in response like mine was. He moved my hair out of my face and offered me a small smile. “Would you like to sit down?” he offered softly.