Читать книгу Rayan - Son of the Desert - Indira Jackson - Страница 19

"You know that there is no other way, don’t you honey?“ Eleonora looked sadly into the eyes of her grandson. "Here you are in too much danger. Just imagine, he will find you one day. What will happen then only Allah knows.“

Rayan nodded hesitatingly. He had already packed, not that he had much to carry with him anyway.

Since his "death“ six months had passed by, which he had used to recover slowly, bit by bit, until he felt his former strength return.

What Eleonora had feared from the very first night, had proven to be right: his back was and would always be a terrible reminder of a horrible day.

But worse than the marks on his skin were the scars on the inside. His own father had not only tortured him, but had also sentenced him to death! Although the images in his mind were blurred because of his devastated state at the moment of reunion with his father, there was one thing that felt like it would be burned into his memory for eternity: that the only answer to his plea for help had been another harsh slap across his face. Of course he had no idea – and Eleonora neither – that the death sentence that day, which was to be by hanging the next morning, had been a trick of his father not to lose his face but to also gain time in order to spare the life of his son.

Rayan had just heard from Eleonora that almost all of his friends had been captured and he assumed they were dead.

Furthermore, he could not know that the man, who he had named Scarface, had been found dead. Someone had cut his throat. Everyone thought it had been one of the rebels during their flight, in order to avenge what he had done to their leader, but that was nowhere near the truth.

Therefore Rayan felt helpless and alone. Besides his grandparents, no further relatives were left. In his eyes he no longer had a father and he had no access to his brother, who was safely in Zarifa, a place where Rayan would never return.

Everything had changed with the death of his mother almost nine years ago.

He gave himself a start – to hell with self-pity. He was alive, strong and healthy. Moreover, he knew that his grandmother was right: he could not stay here any longer. Who knew what his father might do to her and grandpa Youssef if their trick was seen through? Therefore he started out all alone, scarcely three weeks after his 16th birthday, into an unknown future.

He was from now on an outcast, a man without homeland.