Page 8 of Scars of Fate

“Your stories die today.”

Smoke curled upward as page after page disappeared into the flames.

I stared at the burning notebook.

Months of work.

Gone.

Slowly, I forced myself back onto my feet.

Bruised.

Shaking.

Fighting for every breath.

“You burned paper.”

I met his eyes again.

“You didn’t burn the truth.”

For the first time, something flickered in his expression.

Anger.

He raised his rifle.

Before he could aim it, the steel door burst open.

Another soldier rushed inside, speaking rapidly in Farsi.

The guard cursed.

He lowered his weapon, then pointed directly at me.

“Move them. They leave tonight.”

He smiled again.

“And if America comes, they’ll be too late.”

The heavy door slammed shut behind him.

Silence settled over the warehouse.

Janice helped me back against the wall.

“You should have kept quiet.”

I pressed a hand against my bruised ribs and managed a weak smile.

“I’ve never been very good at that.”

Janice laughed softly.

“No. I don’t imagine you ever were.”