For starters, sorry about the long wait in between stories. Secondly I experimented with a new writing style with this story, so I am sorry if it feels weird or different Lastly, I do plan on continuing the "Everything for my Sister" series. This story is told from two perspectives, but they only switch a couple times and are separated by about three spaces; so it shouldn't throw you off too much. I love music and more particularly; I love music with meaning. The story is somewhat based off a personal favorite.
“To atone a sin I didn't care for, but a sin that paid my debts: A sin that fed my children and burned my smiles and cigarettes.” Blindfolds Aside, Protest the Hero
“Executed? What do you mean executed?”, I asked the Prime Minister’s assistant.
“Are you questioning the Prime Minister’s orders? Go do your job.”
“Sorry Sir, but I have never heard of someone being executed for prostitution. We have had this woman locked up for a couple months now, while people go home after worse”.
“Like I said; do your job, or we will find someone to do it for you”.
With that, the assistant hung up the phone and I was left staring at an imaginary object on the wall. This scenario is very odd indeed. In my two years of working for this country’s secret police; I have never had to kill someone for so little. I don’t enjoy my job in the slightest, but it pays for my life so I cannot complain too much.
We execute our prisoners with a firing squad. There are so many stereotypes behind firing squads that just are not true. Before we even put the blindfold on the person; we know exactly who has the rifle with the one bullet in it. Two of the guys that work with me place bets on who has it, and are particularly annoyed when they are not the ones. Needless to say, I have killed quite a few people in my two years working here.
The people that we usually execute are murderers, POW’s, political prisoners, etc. The concept of killing a young woman who may have been a prostitute to pay the bills is blasphemy. Then again, this country has gone to hell every since the new Prime Minister seized power.
It felt like it happened over night. I was only nineteen and I felt like the world was in my hands. I was in my second year of college to me a surgeon, when I woke up to the sound of a particularly loud radio broadcast. I looked around my dorm and my roommates were rubbing their foreheads with a look of annoyance. That was when the words of the broadcast caught my attention.
For starters, the voice was not the caring one of the previous Prime Minister that I had grown up hearing: the new one had a harsh, decisive voice. What he was saying sounded like a garbled mess. His sentences seemed to run together and he was speaking rather quickly. The bits that I had actually caught made my heart sink into my stomach. The man spoke of equality among civilians; equality among workers; and equality among military personnel.
Without much thought, these were words of inspiration that would have promised prosperity throughout the country. Of course, that wasn’t the case. Within two days, it became apparent that the Prime Minister had promised a totalitarian regime. After two more months of college, I dropped out after realizing that “equality among workers” decided that I would be paid the same wage as a guy that had less education, skill, and integrity as me. I figured; what is the point of wasting money and time with college?
After working odd jobs for another year, I received a tip from a friend that military personnel made considerably more than civilians. I am not the guy to settle for second place, so I immediately looked into it. I ended up working for the military for a year before I was recommended for the secret police.
“Colin, COLIN, what the fuck are you doing?”, my best friend Jeff yelled through the curtain wall at me.
I snapped out of the daze that I was in and said back, “Nothing, just lost in thought”.
“Damn dude, you must have been thinking hard because I was calling your name for about a minute”.
“Sorry ‘bout that: what did you want anyway?” I replied back.
“Chief sent me down here to ask what the Prime Minister’s assistant had wanted”.
“Your never going to believe this: he told us that that prostitute that has been here for a few months is to be executed at noon tomorrow”.
“What the fuck? That’s fucking weird; who gets executed for being a whore?” Jeff said back.
“You’re preaching to the choir. What time is it anyways?”
“Going on 7:00; ‘bout time to get out of here”.
“Thank god; today has drug by, plus, I have plans tonight”. I said.
“Plans? Don’t tell me that you are still seeing that one bitch”.
“Wow dude, I really liked that girl and would appreciate it if you didn’t call her a bitch. It so happens that we broke up a couple weeks ago”.
“Whatever bro, I am going to the brothel tonight: where I know I will pick up some slutty bitches. Girls can’t stay away from the uniform”.
“You’re kidding right? People run in terror when they see the insignia on our vests; we work for the secret police”. I said back, standing up and stretching.
“Fuck that man. Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow; I am going to tell the chief and get the hell out of here”.
“Today is your lucky day Kezia; you are finally getting out of this place”. The man I came to know as Evan said to me from the other side of the prison door.
“Where am I going”, I said back to the man.
“Well, in the bible it states that prostitutes go to hell, but I am not a religious man”. Evan said back with a chuckle.
“What do you mean?”
“The Prime Minister thinks that your existence isn’t worth shit anymore, and we are getting rid of you tomorrow at noon”.
He left back to his office after those words of infinite wisdom and left me there; thinking about my life. I have been here for what now feels like an eternity. The days seem to blend together and my cell has no windows. I figured that it was too much to hope for to get back to my child.
Hope… that has been a non-existent term for years now. The Prime Minister had taken everything from me; my money, my home, my livelihood, and most importantly… my family. His rise to power was quick and no one had predicted it… except the people that had helped.
I had been a senator before I lost everything. Actually, I had been the youngest senator in the last century, and one of the few females. My father was the old Prime Minister’s assistant and had appealed to him that I was more qualified for the job than anyone else; even though I was only 18 years-old at the time. The Prime Minister obviously saw something in me and appointed me soon after.
My roles in political matters were strained for some time due to my lack of experience. I only overlooked small projects until I proved that I was more than worthy of the position. The Prime Minister had loved my ideas and he eventually started to pull me aside to help him with matters beyond my pay-grade.
The night the powers shifted will remain imprinted in my mind for as long as I continue to live; which seems to be not too much longer. I was at a cocktail party with a few of my friends when I received a telephone call from the office. It was a man, and I did not recognize his voice at all. He asked me what I thought about a newly recruited senator that I had only met a few times.
The recruit had a brutal outlook on political matters, even though he was only a few years older than me. I mentioned this to the man and was met with a snide “thank you” before the man ended the call. When I had gotten home that night I noticed that my father still wasn’t home. It was odd, but not the first time that he had stayed at the office late.
I went to bed normally and was woke-up a few hours later to a loud radio broadcast. I noticed a few things immediately, first-of-which, was the familiarity of the voice. It was the voice of the recruit and he was talking as if he was rushed. His speech made it to a point where he declared that he was the newly instated Prime Minister.
My first reaction was to go to my father for confirmation. When I went to his room, I found that he still was not home and a feeling of anxiety began to overwhelm me. I called my father’s office and no one answered; confirming my suspicions that something was very wrong. At that moment the front burst open and three men wearing masks ran into the house.
I immediately ran to my basement where a passage led out of the house in case of an emergency. As I made my way through the passage I heard the voice that had called me at the party ask where I was.
The passage took me to a government owned house two blocks away. I stayed awake the rest of the night listening to the broadcast play back over and over again. Each time it played back I became angrier and angrier. This man was proposing communism with a colorful wrapper. The next morning I worked up the courage to venture outside. I picked up a paper from one of the neighbor’s driveways and burst into tears upon reading it.
The front page title was “Prime Minister and Assistant’s Death Calls for New Leaders”. I grieved for a few days while I contemplated what I was going to do. I knew that there was no way that I would be able to return home. I also would have to change my name and appearance.
That night I ventured out with the intention to get what I needed to change my identity. I couldn’t risk someone noticing me because there are two easy ways to identify me. One, the color of my eyes are a deep purple; second, I had dark red hair. I broke into a cosmetics store and stole a set of colored-contacts and brown hair dye. By the time morning rolled around I didn’t even recognize myself.
The next matter was getting rid of my old name, Mary. I remembered back to stories that my mom had told me before passing away. My favorite was the story of a young girl, named Kezia, who was falsely accused of a crime that she had not committed. That was when I took on the name Kezia.
I had to burn anything that linked me to my old life; including my ID, driver’s license, social security numbers, etc. Without these documents, however, I would not be able to obtain a job or a home; legally. I began working as a maid for a family that lived comfortably. I was paid out of their pocket, so I didn’t have to worry about the government poking around.
After working there for about a month the owner of the house began to take an interest in me. He tried on many occasions to seduce me, and it almost worked because he was a handsome man. After several failed attempts, he made the proposition to pay me for sex. Not only did he offer this, but he also offered to pay very well.
My wages for being a maid were barely enough to pay for the motel that I was staying in, and I gave in to his offer. I had only had sex one other time in my life, at that point, and it had been with a stranger at a party. He apparently enjoyed the sex because afterwards he made the proposition to make it a regular activity. The months wore on in this manner and I was financially secure at the expense of my pride. Pride was another term that had no meaning anymore.
The man eventually referred me to a couple of friends of his and I began selling myself to them also. Money was no longer a problem, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that with my new identity I would not be able to surmount to anything more than a whore. After being a prostitute for a few more months, it was inevitable that I would become pregnant.
This posed a tremendous problem because I would not be able to have the child in a hospital without drawing attention to the fact that I had no documentation. I paid a man that had gone to school to be a surgeon to deliver the baby. He learned of my plight somehow and seemed almost eager to assist me. He didn't ask me any questions about my name or why I couldn’t go to the hospital. He also was extremely secretive and wouldn’t tell me his name or what he did for a living.
I loved the baby with all of my being, and it gave me a reason to continue my existence. The baby was also a larger burden than I had expected. I couldn’t trust the baby in anyone else’s care because she shared the same hair and eye color as me, and there was still a bounty on me.
One night, after the baby was a year old, the secret police found out where I was. One of my client’s wives had found out and reported me to the police for prostitution. After being arrested, the police removed my contacts and the hair dye eventually wore out. They realized who I was and turned me over to the secret police. I have know idea what happened to my child and I spent many nights hoping that the baby was safe, but hope turned to flame, and flame to ashes.
“Fucking traffic”, I said to myself as I attempted to make my way to my destination.
Every since I had delivered that woman’s baby over a year ago I was compelled to help other people in the same boat. Tonight I was going to look at a man who had cut his arm open, but for some reason or another, he couldn’t go to the hospital. I had been doing it for free after charging that poor woman, and I wished I could give her a refund. Alas, I hadn’t learned anything about her, and she no longer lived at that motel.
The drive got men thinking about the execution tomorrow. I couldn’t get over the fact that people get a slap on the wrist for worse crimes. I wasn’t fond of killing anyone, but at least there was justice in executing a convicted murderer.
“Fuck”, I whispered, realizing that I missed the turn to the man’s house.
Upon arriving at the old man’s home, his wife quickly opened the front door and let me in.
“Thank you so much for coming”, she gasped out.
“It was no trouble”, I lied considering the drive was annoying, and the fact that doing this was considered treason.
“He is over here”, and she led me into the living room.
“Hello”, I said to the man.
“Thanks, you don’t know how grateful we are that you are here”.
“It is no problem”, I said back; once again lying.
I began to look at his arm and realized that the gash was fresh enough that I could just sew it up.
“You are lucky that you contacted me so quickly”, I commented before beginning the process of sewing his arm.
I finished in only a couple of minutes because I had done this so many times now. I stood up to leave and the old woman grabbed my arm and said, “Is there anything we can do to repay you”.
“Just try to keep me out of handcuffs and that will be all”, I said quickly before attempting to leave again.
“We can’t let you leave here with nothing”.
“Trust me; I would rather leave here with a good conscience, than money”. I replied back as I tried to leave.
“Wait, wait, I got it. Please take our daughter”. The old woman stammered out.
“What? No; I can’t take your daughter anywhere. Seriously, you don’t owe me anything”.
“I refuse to let unspoken heroes go unrewarded”.
“There is a reason that I am unspoken”.
“Well, our daughter has no documents, so she will never be able to surmount to anything. Wait here for second; let me call her in here; Isabelle!”
“Oh god, please don……”, I started, but stopped when Isabelle walked into the room.
There is only one word that I can give to describe her appearance; she was stunning. Her long flowing hair stopped at her waste. She had a beautiful almond-shaped face with green eyes and a foreign-looking tan. Her slender body was accented with tight fitting clothing that was probably just too small for her. Temptation filled my soul the more I stared at her, but god knows how awkward it would be to fuck someone’s daughter with the parent’s blessing.
“I really must be going”, I stammered out.
“Please sir; we are good people, and you speak of a clear conscience and we just want to give something back”.
“Ma’am, I just sewed up an arm. There is hardly even a reason to thank me, much less, reward me”.
“Fine, just take her for company tonight and bring her back tomorrow. You would be doing us another favor because Isabelle hasn’t traveled outside the slums before”.
I looked at Isabelle, who didn’t look nearly as embarrassed as I felt, or even embarrassed at all. Actually, she wore a look of yearning that I couldn’t possibly refuse.
“I’ll be back early tomorrow morning with your daughter… I guess”, I said and motioned for Isabelle to follow me.
“Thank you”, the old man, woman, and Isabelle all said at the same time.
I drove us to my place feeling like I just made an extremely dumb mistake. I led Isabelle into my house and said awkwardly, “Make yourself at home I guess”.
“What do you mean”, Isabelle replied back.
“Just act like you would at home”.
“Do you want me to cook something for you?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Listen to the radio or get something to eat”.
“Is that all you want me to do?”
“It’s not that I want you to do that stuff; I just want you do whatever you want to”.
“Oh I get what you mean now”, Isabelle said as she pulled her shirt off; revealing her boobs.
“What the fuck”, I coughed out and turned my head away.
“Do you not think that I am pretty?”, she asked me unsteadily.
“No, no; I mean you are gorgeous; I just had no intention of doing anything with you”.
“Well, I had intentions of doing stuff with you. My mom raised me to know how to treat a man.”
“Uhh, I don’t know how I feel about knowing that”, I said as I turned my head back toward her.
“Come here”, Isabelle whispered as she beckoned to me.
I walked over to her, as if in a trance. She grabbed both of my hands and pulled me onto my couch. We kissed for a few moments before she pulled off her pants and started to try and pull my shirt off. I pulled my pants and boxers off at the same time and Isabelle wrapped her fingers around the shaft of my cock. I was hard in a matter of seconds and I began to fondle her nipples as she jerked me off.
It had been awhile since I last had sex and I came all over her hand in no time. Isabelle immediately leaned her head down and began sucking me off to make sure that I didn’t get soft. It worked because my hard-on stayed strong. I closed my eyes out of pleasure and just enjoyed the feeling of her mouth on my cock.
She stopped sucking my dick and leaned back on my couch and motioned for me to stick it in. That was all the invitation that I needed and I wasted no time positioning my dick outside of her pussy. I pushed my dick in and was a little surprise that she was pretty tight because I was getting the vibe that I wasn’t the first stranger she had fucked.
I started slowly, but quickly gained speed as she started to tell me to go harder. I was fucking her as hard as I could when she let out a small scream and her body started writhe around on my couch. Her pussy clamped down on my cock and I could feel her frantic heartbeat on my dick. The feeling easily put me over the edge and I shot my load deep into her womb. I collapsed on top of her as our breathing began to even out.
“That was nice. The last guy couldn’t even make me orgasm”, Isabelle gasped out.
“That’s fantastic, I am going to the bathroom for a second”, I replied sarcastically as reality dawned on me.
I walked into the bathroom and anger began to overwhelm.
“Fucking shit; ass fucker; shit; dick; what the fuck!” I screamed as I began to punch the wall.
“Are you alright?” Isabelle asked from the living room.
“Oh, I am dandy; fucking peaches and cream: except in nine months when I become a fucking dad!”
“You don’t have to worry about that”.
“How do you figure?” I yelled back.
“I am already a month-and-a-half pregnant”.
“Once again, I don’t know how I feel about that, but I am somewhat relieved”.
Isabelle slept on the couch and I slept in my bed. My alarm woke us up at 5:00 in the morning and drove Isabelle back to her own home. Afterwards, I went to the agency and changed into my uniform in the bathroom. I walked into my office and found information about the execution of the prostitute on my desk.
As I read her file; I still could not figure out why she was to be executed. Her name was Kezia and next to crime, all it said was prostitution. I came to the conclusion that I needed to talk to this woman; even though it was against policy. I made my way to her cell and looked through the opening on the cell door. It was so dark in her cell that I could only make out the outline of her body on the floor. “That can’t be too comfortable”, I whispered to myself.
“Hey you, uhhhh Kezia, wake up”.
“Is it noon”, she whispered without moving.
“No, it is still early in the morning. I just have a few questions for you”.
“Ask away”, Kezia replied with a hint of sarcasm.
“I am a little confused at what you did to end up here”.
“You should know better than me”.
“Your file says that you were just a prostitute, but that can’t be the only reason”.
“You are correct in assuming that I am here for other reasons outside of prostitution”. She whispered.
“Can you please tell me?” I asked eagerly.
“What? Do you big bad secret policemen need a real reason to kill me?”
“It would make me feel a lot better about it if you did?”
“Wait a second; your voice, it sounds vaguely familiar. You sound just like a man who did me an unfathomable favor.
“I seriously doubt that it was me now answer the question”, I said back impatiently.
“Yeah, you are probably right. The person that I am thinking of wouldn’t be the scum that you are. To answer your question though, I am the senator, and Assistant’s daughter, that escaped two years ago”.
“Fuck that, you aren’t Mary”, I replied incredulously.
“Believe what you want, but ask yourself again why I am here”.
I didn’t believe her, but the more I thought about it, the more it all made sense. Two years ago the Prime Minister and his Assistant mysteriously died and was replaced within a few hours. It was common belief that there was a conspiracy behind the situation, but nobody could say anything or they would be sent here to die.
Shortly after the deaths; posters started showing up around town that the Assistant’s daughter was wanted for questioning about the deaths. Everyone just assumed that she fled the country because she had very distinct characteristics about her. As all these thoughts flooded my mind I turned back toward the cell and said “Come here, I want to see you in the light”. Just as the words left my mouth, the door to the cell block opened and Evan walked in.
“What the fuck are you doing here Colin?”, Evan snarled at me.
“A little investigation”.
“Investigation? On what?”
“I just wanted to know how big of a slut this bitch needed to be to get executed”.
“Hehe, yeah this bitch is a piece of work isn’t she?”, Evan said back with a chuckle.
“You’re telling me, the world will be a better place without her in it”.
“Just for that Colin, I am going to make sure you get the honor of shooting her”.
“Woah, I don’t know, the chief said that he wanted to be the one”, I said quickly.
“The chief always gets to be the one that executes the people; you should do it this time”.
Seeing no way around this, I gave Evan a quick wink before leaving back to my office. I sat in my office thinking about what I should do in this situation. I stamped out all doubts in my mind and accepted that Kezia was actually Mary. This meant that she was innocent, and there was no way that I was going to be able to pull the trigger.
Feelings of self-preservation also began to enter my mind. If I refused, then I would be tried for treason, or whatever else the Prime Minister could cook up. I leaned my forehead on my hands and sat there thinking of what I should do. I came to the conclusion that I could either kill her and live, or not kill her and both of us die. The first option started to sound pretty good at that point.
“Colin, Jesus Christ dude: are you ever not thinking about something?”, Jeff yelled into my office.
“There is a lot to think about at the moment”.
“Well, it can wait. It is 11:45, time to work”.
“I do love my job”, I muttered back sarcastically as I left my office and walked with Jeff back to Kezia’s cell.
We arrived at her cell after everyone else and stood there for a few minutes before the chief said “Evan, get her out here”. Evan went in and came back out a few moments later with a young woman who was somewhat small and was wearing a blindfold. I stared intently at her, trying to find some confirmation that she was in fact Mary.
I heard voices outside of my cell and stood up. “It must be noon”, I whispered as the cell door opened and Evan walked in. He roughly pulled me toward him and tied my hands behind my back. Before leaving the cell, he pulled a piece of clothe from his pocket and tied it over my eyes. He led me out of the cell that I had been in for months.
I heard people shuffling around me before someone said “You, Kezia, are to be executed at 12:00 this day 15th of June. Do you have any final requests before we proceed?”
I slowly shook my head and was pushed forward and led down the hallway. The man that was leading me had a soft grip on my arm and he would occasionally give it a light squeeze. I turned my head in his direction and was met with loud voice telling me to keep my head straight.
After walking for what felt like days; I was stopped and the sound of a large door opening brought me back to my senses. The smell of fresh air flooded into my lungs and tears sprang to my eyes. It had been so long since I had felt the sun on my skin and wind in my hair. The man led me another hundred yards before whispering “Get on your knees”. I obliged and I heard his footsteps walk a short distance away before stopping.
“Looks like you’re the lucky one today Colin”, Evan said to some man.
“Thanks”, I heard the man named Colin say back.
The sound of Colin’s voice finally struck me. He was the man that had delivered my baby all that time ago. My feelings began to feel conflicted as I struggled to put together how a man that works for the secret police, also helps out the helpless. I started to shake my head and I felt the blindfold covering my eyes start to loosen. I needed visual confirmation, so I shook my head a little faster and the blindfold slipped off my eyes and fell onto the ground.
“God damn it Evan; who the hell taught you how to tie a blindfold”, the chief yelled.
“Sorry sir, I guess I just got a little sloppy”.
“No matter, I love seeing the life leave people’s eyes when they die”.
My breathe stopped in my chest as I stared at Kezia. Not only did her purple eyes seem to stare into my soul, but she looked extremely familiar. Aside from the fact that I now knew for certain that she was Kezia, but her facial features strongly resembled the woman that started my career helping people.
She was staring at me with a pleading look and I knew that she also recognized me. I looked at the rest of the firing squad and they were all looking at their watches. I glanced down at my own watch and saw that it was 11:58. The chief cleared his voice and said “Rifles at the ready”. Five rifles were raised on those words and Kezia bowed her head as the hope she felt upon seeing me left her. A little over a minute later the chiefs voice rang out again as he began the countdown.
“This is wrong”, I whispered to myself.
“I can’t do this”.
“What else am I going to do?”
“What else is there to do?”
Four rifles fired off blanks and Kezia fell forward. I looked at the smoke bellowing from the end of everyone’s rifle; except mine. Kezia shifted around on the ground, realizing that she hadn’t been shot.
“What the fuck Colin? You are supposed to shoot when I say fire”, the chief yelled at me.
“I’m sorry chief, but I can’t do it”.
“What do you mean? Have gotten soft or something?”
“This woman should not be put to death. It isn’t right: everything that has happened over the last couple years isn’t right”.
“Stop Colin: saying stuff like that will get you killed”, Jeff whispered beside me.
“Enough of this bullshit”, the chief yelled as he pulled his pistol out and aimed it at Kezia.
“No”, I yelled as the sound of gunfire once again rang through the air.
The chief crumpled to the ground as the sole shot from my rifle tore through his heart. Kezia let out a scream as a blood began to poor out of her thigh. The rest of the squad stared at the scenario dumbfounded. I pulled out my pistol and pointed at them all in turn and they put their hands over their heads.
“Don’t do anything”, I yelled at them.
“What are doing Colin?” Jeff whispered.
“I don’t know, but I need to get out of here”.
With that I slowly backed up to Kezia, who was still holding her leg in agony. I glanced at the wound and found that it had missed the artery. Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to walk on her own, I helped her to her feet and she stumbled around before balancing herself with my shoulder.
“You three, ummmm go back into the building”, I yelled anxiously.
“Or what?” Evan asked
“Or, or I’ll shoot you”.
“Bullshi… WHAT THE FUCK!” Evan got out as I shot him in the foot.
“Now go inside and don’t even think about calling sounding any alarms”.
They went back inside and I looked at Kezia. She was white as a ghost and her grip on my shoulder was loosening. I picked her up in my arms and began to carry her toward the back gate. It led to a forest, and I knew of a small cabin that was about two miles in. The only people that knew of it were Jeff and me, and I prayed that Jeff wouldn’t sell me out. After carrying Kezia for about ten minutes, sirens sounded from behind me. Kezia looked up at me and asked “Do you realize what you just did”.
“I am trying not to think about”.
“They are going to chase us you know?”
“Like I said; I am trying not to think about it”.
“No matter what you do, the Prime Minister will not stop until we are both dead”, She whispered.
“I simple thanks will help me out a lot more in this situation”.
This is the end of the first installment in this two-part story. I once again must say that I am sorry for waiting so long between stories; it will not happen again. I took in a lot of advice from people when I wrote this, and I hope that you enjoyed it.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the song “Blindfolds Aside”, by the Canadian progressive-metal band, Protest the Hero. The name Kezia is in sole ownership of the said band and their record company. The story is VERY loosely based on the band’s album “Kezia”.