When the sun is waving farewell to the earth, Dessin returns.
Blankets, pillows, water, a gas lamp, and a few nonperishable canned goods. I get a peek of the sky before he closes the door. It’s the color of a candle when the fire is about to burn out.
“Hi.” He smiles with dimples and an endearing expression. The look of seeing an old friend after years of being apart. Hello, Kane.
“Welcome back!”
A few steps toward me and he stops. “Jesus, look at you. It’s my fault, Skylenna.” He sets down his recently retrieved supplies and takes a look at my leg. “How bad does it hurt?”
“It’s not your fault. I was the one who decided to tease you while attempting to take the lead.” I shift to sit up. “It doesn’t hurt that bad now.”
Lie. And he sees right through it, but it’s too polite to call me out.
After I briefly make a spectacle about how long it’s been since I put my head on a pillow, he places a fluffy white (slightly gray) pillow behind my back while I scarf down a can of green beans and then another of sliced apples coated with cinnamon glaze meant for an apple pie. I hum into the can as I clean it out and he just watches with his arms crossed, grinning.
A thought releases a momentary paralytic to my insides as I hand the empty can back to him. He watches me cautiously. “What’s wrong?”
The house. His house. His family. I look to the back door of the beautiful cottage and purse my lips. He follows my focus of attention, then touches the back of my hand with two fingers.
“I’m okay as long as I don’t go in there,” he says firmly.
I take his hand and am quiet for a long moment.
“I wish I could have known them.”
He looks like he’s about to respond but then his eyes fall. I can feel the depression containing him in chains. He never really escaped that house, did he?
“Do you mind if I ask about your dad?”
“Wyatt.”
We lie back on the makeshift cot he put together for us. His arm supporting the back of my head. I lean into him, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and dark musk.
“Dessin told me he got justice. Toward your father. What did he mean?”
He sighs, looking up at the brittle ceiling. “It would give you nightmares.”
“He said that he sold out your family.”
No answer.
“Do you miss him?” I push but immediately regret it. We’re only a few yards from his childhood home. I’m sure this can’t be easy for him.
“One day, you will forgive your mother and your father. It may not seem like it now, but one day… it will come easily to you. But I will never forgive Wyatt. I don’t agree with Dessin about much. I almost never approve of his actions. But what he did… what he did was justice. It was horrible and it was gruesome. But Wyatt will suffer so much worse in hell.”
I shudder at the details he leaves out.
“If you won’t tell me what Dessin did to him, will you at least tell me what Wyatt did that was so unforgivable?”
He shakes his head.
“Please?” I take his hand that is resting on his stomach and bring it up to my chest. I flatten his hand out against my soft skin. “This, right here. This is a safe place.”
He turns his head, and his eyes fall to my chest, then back up to me like he’s thought about this—touching me—being this close, but still surprised it’s happening, nonetheless.
“Wyatt was a Demechnef Bureaucrat. They had been running experiments on…” He flicks his eyes away from me. “A type of child. And when my mother was pregnant with me, Wyatt quickly realized that I would fit their requirements. Wyatt knew that the experiment called for a traumatic childhood experience done by the age of six. He knew it would affect the entire family. He sold us out anyway.” A cold breeze whistles through the crack of the shed door. “He drove the buggy when they took me away. He waited outside while they hurt us. While they murdered us.”
I hook my arm across his chest and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. He pulls the blanket up to my chin and encircles his arms around me. How could Wyatt do that to him? I press my hand over his heart.
Please, God, don’t let this man suffer anymore. Take it all away. Give it to me. I’ll take whatever pain he has left.
The gas lamp jumps side to side with the little wind that makes it into our shed. We hold each other like this for hours. Not sleeping, not speaking. But deep down, I vow to him, I vow to keep him safe. I vow that I won’t ever hurt him. I vow that I will protect him from bad people. I vow that I will always fight to make him smile.
