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F ifteen years ago.

I heard the pounding of my father’s footsteps as he raced towards where the bad men were holding me.

The room smelled bad. Like cigarettes and beer. I recognized the smells from when I visited Uncle Nico’s bar with Pop.

It made my nose itchy, but one of the bad men slapped me when I sniffled earlier. I was scared, so it was okay to cry. Or so I thought.

The bad man said crying was for babies, and I was too fat to be a baby.

So, I hid my fear. But when I heard Pop’s angry voice roaring my name, I knew it was going to be okay.

The door busted open, and the bad men stood, scrambling to get away as Pop and my uncles came rushing inside.

There were other men with them, too. Men outfitted with guns and knives, who worked for my father.

Violence erupted around me like Mount Vesuvius. I learned all about the volcano that destroyed Pompeii in the year 79 AD.

We watched a video about that in school last week and I remembered the way molten lava shot from the mouth of the mountain and rained down terror on the unsuspecting people below.

I liked history. But these guys should have known this was going to happen.

I didn’t know a lot about my father’s or my uncles’ business, but I knew they were respected and feared. I saw it in the way other adults, like my teachers or my friends’ parents, looked and the way their expressions changed when they found out who I was.

Clementine Aziz. Daughter of Josef Aziz, head of Sigma International.

“Clementine! Are you okay?” Pop asked.

He was kneeling at my feet, cutting through the ties that held my hands and ankles together with a wicked looking knife. His face was covered with sweat and blood, but it didn’t scare me.

I knew it wasn’t his.

“Clemmy mine? Honey? Answer me, baby, are you hurt?” Pop asked.

I shook my head. I was going to need time to process everything that had happened, but I was feeling angry now. More than anything else, I was mad. Especially since the worst of it was over.

“Can you talk? Shit. Call a doctor!” he yelled at one of the men.

But I shook my head and narrowed my eyes.

“I don’t need a doctor, Pop.”

“I think you should get looked at,” he said, and tilted my head side to side.

His chest rumbled angrily as he took in the side of my face where the bad man had hit me.

“I am so sorry you got hurt,” he said, and gritted his teeth.

I knew he meant it. This year had been hard on all of us. Mom was sick, and Pop was splitting his time between work, us kids, and being there for her. I was eleven and the oldest.

I didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but I tried to keep my younger sisters calm. Pop was serious about our security, but there must have been a mix up.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Practice was canceled, and I thought I was big enough to get home alone,” I murmured, ashamed by my actions.

This was all my fault, and even as I acknowledged it, I wasn’t ready to feel so much shame.

He should be home with Mom. Not here with me.

“Hey, it’s not your fault, Honey. Tell me how it happened,” he said.

“I was two blocks away from school when a van pulled up next to me. They put a bag over my head and took me away. I’m sorry, Pop. I shouldn’t have left without calling. It’s my fault they got me,” I whispered.

“You did nothing wrong, Clementine. This is my fault. Not yours,” he said, but I shook my head. “Listen to me, baby. It is my fault . Now, let’s go see the doctor.”

“No!” I yelled, and Pop narrowed his eyes.

But it was too late. All those feelings I’d been feeling ever since the bad men took me just bubbled up until I couldn’t hold them back anymore.

They just spilled out of me. Not tears. No, I wouldn’t cry about this again.

It was rage that came rocketing from my lips.

Anger.

Fury.

And a thirst for vengeance.

Just like Mt. Vesuvius all over again.

“No! I don’t need a doctor,” I repeated.

I was breathing heavily, and I pushed against my father’s hold. He released me and nodded.

“Okay. Tell me what you need, Clementine,” Pop said.

I noticed my uncles had gathered behind him. Uncles Adrik, Marat, Andres, Nico, Luc, and Angel were all waiting to hear what I had to say.

Their heads were canted, and their gazes were steady as I opened my mouth and told them all what I needed more than anything else in the world.

Whatever innocence I’d still possessed at twelve, even after learning about my mother’s battle with illness, was wiped out the second those bad men took me.

I understood then, there was no going back to being that little girl safely ensconced in the protective bubble my parents had built for me.

I’d witnessed too much for that. So, I met my father’s unwavering stare, and I told him.

“I need to learn how to fight and how to shoot a gun.”