I was humming. I didn't realize it until I heard the melody—soft and broken, the lullaby, the one Gabriel had used during our sessions. The one that made my shoulders drop and my jaw go slack. The one that meant I was ready to receive instruction.
"Daddy."
I stopped humming.
Or thought I stopped.
But the melody was still there, echoing in my skull, vibrating through my bones, a phantom sound I couldn't escape.
"Daddy, where are you?"
"Why won't you answer?"
"Why won't you come home?"
The shadow was back.
I saw it in the window of the closed shop across the street—a figure, tall and dark, standing at the corner, watching. I turned. No one was there. The corner was empty. The street was empty. The only thing that moved was the wind, pushing scraps of paper along the gutter.
"I know you're there."
My voice was louder now. Not quite shouting, but close. The words echoed off the buildings, bouncing back at me, distorted and strange.
"I know you're following me."
"I know you're watching."
"Who are you?"
"What do you want?"
No answer.
There was never an answer.
I walked until the sky started to lighten.
The bruises faded from purple to grey to pale, pale gold. The streetlights flickered off one by one. The city woke up around me—a car engine, a dog barking, a siren somewhere in the distance.
The shadow was gone.
Or had never been there.
Or was still watching, hidden, waiting for me to lead him somewhere.
I didn't know anymore.
I didn't know anything.
"Daddy."
I was humming again. The lullaby. The one that meant I was ready.
"Daddy, I'm so tired."
"Daddy, I'm so lost."
"Daddy, please."
