The Obsession Deepens
The photograph had been staring at me for hours.
Gabriel's face was frozen in time, captured at a psychology conference seven years ago, his expression caught somewhere between a smile and something sharper. He looked younger in the photo. Softer. The lines around his eyes hadn't deepened yet, the silver at his temples hadn't spread, and there was something in his gaze that I couldn't quite name.
Hope?
Ambition?
The ghost of a man who hadn't yet become what he was destined to be?
I didn't know.
I couldn't know.
But I'd been staring at his face for so long that the edges had started to blur, the features shifting, reforming, dissolving into something I almost recognized.
"You're my greatest creation."
The memory came without warning.
I was in the pink room. The lights were dim. Gabriel was holding me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his chin resting on top of my head. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, and his voice was soft, softer than I'd ever heard it.
"You're my greatest creation. The best thing I've ever made."
"Daddy."
My voice was small.
"Daddy, don't leave me."
"I won't. I'll come back for you. I promise."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
His voice broke on the word.
I'd never heard his voice break before.
I'd cried, and he'd held me, and I'd believed him.
Because why wouldn't I?
He'd never lied to me before.
Or maybe he had.
Maybe he'd always been lying.
Maybe the memory was a lie.
I blinked.
The apartment came back.
The photo was still in my hands. The edges were soft from being touched too many times, the paper worn thin where my thumbs had traced his jaw.
