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No, that can’t be. My father doesn’t show emotion, ever. He doesn’t cry.
But yet, I think that’s precisely what he’s doing.
And then he’s gone, walking away from me. Our reunion is over.
“Kai? Is that you?”
Mason.
I turn and look at the boy I grew up with. Even he hasn’t changed much. His body is a little thicker, his hair a little longer, his voice deeper. There are a few thin lines around his eyes I don’t remember before, but otherwise, he looks exactly the same. He’s the same boy I’ve been friends with since I was five.
I should speak, reassure him, because he looks like he’s seen a ghost. And after he realizes it’s really me, he will see the bruises, the scars, the broken bones. He will see how frail I am and then he will lose it.
He’ll rush me to the police or the hospital. I’ll have to answer questions I never want to explain.
I’m not ready to speak. I’ve talked plenty of times, mainly to myself, but talking right now feels like opening myself up to let someone in again. And as much as that person should be Mason, I can’t.
He hasn’t changed, but I have.
And a part of me hates him. For not finding me. For not preventing me from being taken. For not saving me.
Mason and my father were the only people who would have missed me. My father could barely feed himself. I don’t blame him, but Mason has money, resources, connections. He loved me. He wanted more from me. He could have found me.
“Jesus, it is you.” Mason runs toward me with open arms threatening to engulf me.
His fingertips barely touch me, and I wince, taking a step back. The light touch feels like fire against my ice cold skin.
“Christ,” Mason curses as he runs his hand through his long blonde surfer locks.
My eyes turn downcast. I can’t watch him realize what happened to me. I can’t take his empathy, his concern, his anger. He has no right to feel any of those things!
“What happened?” he asks.
No answer.
“Kai? You can talk to me. I won’t hurt you.” His hand brushes against me, and I jump out of my skin.
I can’t. You can’t touch me, I shout inside.
My eyes meet his, telling him to stop with a sharp glare as a dog would warn a stranger thinking of coming onto its property.
“Okay, no touching. Can I drive you to a hospital or police station?”
I freeze. No.
“Kai? A doctor should see you. You could have broken bones. I will pay for everything.”
I do have broken bones, you idiot.
Slowly, I shake my head no.
He sighs.
“Okay, I won’t push you. Let’s go inside though. Maybe after a bath and food, you might reconsider going. I could even have a doctor come to you if you prefer.”
Mason puts his hand out, offering it to me like a crutch to walk with.
He thinks I’m weak, maybe I am? But I don’t want his or anyone else’s help.
