Gabriel's Regret: Book 1 (The Medlov Men Series 2) by Latrivia Nelson, Latrivia Welch Page A
Authors: Latrivia Nelson, Latrivia Welch
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dorohyy brat, Zakhyshchu tebe,” she whispered, promising to avenge him.
While self-pity tried to set in, there was something else that rejected it. Voices of the fallen whispered to her, demanding that she not give up, not give in, not roll over and play dead.
No.
She needed to be strong. She needed to use this moment, never forget it, and never forget him as he was now. In the days ahead, she’d need to remind herself of why giving up was not an option. Making herself look at her brother once again, she felt the strange metamorphosis happen. Ice raced through her veins. Hate filled her heart – hate for weakness, hate for inequality, and hate for disenfranchisement. And suddenly, she was fueled with determination for if nothing else, reciprocity.
The sound of rain water dripping from the ceiling onto the rotted floor drew her attention away from her sobs for a minute. Sniffling, she wiped her face and looked across the room at her baby brother, standing in the shadows watching her. How long had he been there watching her? She rose up, hand still holding her brother’s and called out for him.
“Andriy,” she said so softly until she did not recognize her own voice. “Come here, dytyna .”
His brown eyes glared at her with hesitation.
It was then that she knew he was afraid. But how could he not be? He had lost everyone in his family, but her. Over his young years, Andriy had seen many dead bodies, but it was different now what it was his brother. He nodded and stepped further back in the corner. “I don’t want to see,” he said, voice squeaking in pubescent turmoil. “If I don’t see, maybe it won’t be real.”
Valeriya looked down at her corpse and bit her lip. This was as real as it gets. “We have to bury him soon. Come see him now. Stand with me, brat.”
She could hear his large, awkward steps moving across the room toward her.
The smell of his unwashed body wafted to her nose. Taking his trembling, clammy hands in hers, she turned to him and looked up into his eyes. It was important to her to let him know that he still had someone he could count on. So she said the same words that Alexei had whispered to her when their mother and father were killed in mortar attacks by the Nazis several years ago. “Our rock is gone. I am your rock now.”
Andriy, a young 15 year old boy with big brown eyes and deep brown chocolate skin, glared at her. “I just can’t believe that Alexei is gone,” he said, dropping his head. “Why did they have to hurt him so bad?”
“Because they are monsters,” Valeriya said, growling. She lifted his chin. “Don’t ever forget what they do, Andriy. Don’t ever believe that we can give up.”
Andriy pursed his cracked lips. “They will be coming for you now,” he whispered, afraid for her.
“No,” Valeriya said, refusing to show weakness in front of him.
He looked at her confused.
“Now, I’m coming for them,” she said in absolution. “My promise to you is that one day in your lifetime, you will not be afraid to go out as a Black man in your own country, you will not hear the sound of mortars in the night, and you will not be a prisoner in your own land. The reason that I can make that promise to you is because of what I’m going to do to them. All of them.”
Andriy looked in his sister’s twisted face and felt the tears subside. Even with his brother lying dead beside them, he believed her.
***
Toward the front of the hotel in an interior room with intact insulation to buffer the sounds of the heavy baritone voices, a room of four men gathered in the dark under candlelight – some to conspire, some to inquire. No matter the intention, the issue at hand could not wait until later. With Alexei dead, they needed a new leader and the next person rightfully in line for the position was grieving the loss of her brother just a few hundred feet
While self-pity tried to set in, there was something else that rejected it. Voices of the fallen whispered to her, demanding that she not give up, not give in, not roll over and play dead.
No.
She needed to be strong. She needed to use this moment, never forget it, and never forget him as he was now. In the days ahead, she’d need to remind herself of why giving up was not an option. Making herself look at her brother once again, she felt the strange metamorphosis happen. Ice raced through her veins. Hate filled her heart – hate for weakness, hate for inequality, and hate for disenfranchisement. And suddenly, she was fueled with determination for if nothing else, reciprocity.
The sound of rain water dripping from the ceiling onto the rotted floor drew her attention away from her sobs for a minute. Sniffling, she wiped her face and looked across the room at her baby brother, standing in the shadows watching her. How long had he been there watching her? She rose up, hand still holding her brother’s and called out for him.
“Andriy,” she said so softly until she did not recognize her own voice. “Come here, dytyna .”
His brown eyes glared at her with hesitation.
It was then that she knew he was afraid. But how could he not be? He had lost everyone in his family, but her. Over his young years, Andriy had seen many dead bodies, but it was different now what it was his brother. He nodded and stepped further back in the corner. “I don’t want to see,” he said, voice squeaking in pubescent turmoil. “If I don’t see, maybe it won’t be real.”
Valeriya looked down at her corpse and bit her lip. This was as real as it gets. “We have to bury him soon. Come see him now. Stand with me, brat.”
She could hear his large, awkward steps moving across the room toward her.
The smell of his unwashed body wafted to her nose. Taking his trembling, clammy hands in hers, she turned to him and looked up into his eyes. It was important to her to let him know that he still had someone he could count on. So she said the same words that Alexei had whispered to her when their mother and father were killed in mortar attacks by the Nazis several years ago. “Our rock is gone. I am your rock now.”
Andriy, a young 15 year old boy with big brown eyes and deep brown chocolate skin, glared at her. “I just can’t believe that Alexei is gone,” he said, dropping his head. “Why did they have to hurt him so bad?”
“Because they are monsters,” Valeriya said, growling. She lifted his chin. “Don’t ever forget what they do, Andriy. Don’t ever believe that we can give up.”
Andriy pursed his cracked lips. “They will be coming for you now,” he whispered, afraid for her.
“No,” Valeriya said, refusing to show weakness in front of him.
He looked at her confused.
“Now, I’m coming for them,” she said in absolution. “My promise to you is that one day in your lifetime, you will not be afraid to go out as a Black man in your own country, you will not hear the sound of mortars in the night, and you will not be a prisoner in your own land. The reason that I can make that promise to you is because of what I’m going to do to them. All of them.”
Andriy looked in his sister’s twisted face and felt the tears subside. Even with his brother lying dead beside them, he believed her.
***
Toward the front of the hotel in an interior room with intact insulation to buffer the sounds of the heavy baritone voices, a room of four men gathered in the dark under candlelight – some to conspire, some to inquire. No matter the intention, the issue at hand could not wait until later. With Alexei dead, they needed a new leader and the next person rightfully in line for the position was grieving the loss of her brother just a few hundred feet
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