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9
Evanna blinked, confused at my reaction, but my mind was still trying to process that she had just called me by my father’s name.
“Khayden?” she whispered. “I apologize. I know I have no right to call you by—"
“I don’t understand,” I interrupted, feeling my blood chill to my bones. “How did you know my father?”
The uncertainty previously shining through her eyes carved her entire expression, dismay slipping its way through the cracks. “Your father?”
“Yes, my dad,” I answered, taking a calming breath to push down the ache his name stirred. “When did you meet him? He’s been gone for a while now.”
“Gone?” Slowly, Evanna stood, a whirlwind of emotions crashing onto her face with the word.
“He died when I was nine years old.” Blocking myself to the pain the memory of that night incited, I crossed both arms over my chest, muscles becoming rigid.
Something hit her with my confession, and I wasn’t sure what it was, but her breaths began to come faster, anxiety increasing through her.
“No,” she whispered, slightly shaking her head while her attention shifted somewhere beyond me.
Something transpired in her crystal blue eyes, realization, or memories perhaps, given by the tears that began to glisten in them, only to be disturbed by the shadow of defeat.
“I am truly sorry about your father’s passing—may he rest in the light,” she offered, a tear escaping her lashes as she looked at me.
The desolation enveloping her words sliced through me, and my walls dropped with one look into her eyes. Arms falling to my sides, my chest constricted with her pain, and I reached for her, cradling her cheek. “I’m sorry, Evanna. I don’t—"
“No, I am the one who must apologize. I realize now I have made a mistake. I confused you with someone else. You are not the person I was looking for.” Pulling away from my touch, she wiped the tears that fell over her cheeks with her fingers. “I’m truly sorry if I caused you any distress by reminding you of his loss, and for wasting your time.”
Whirling around, she rushed out of the coffee shop, and the fear that I would never see her again crawled its frigid way through me.
* * *
Walking into my room, I closed the door and rested my back against it. It was one of those nights where you could not see the moon, and the walk back to Mrs. Reyes' home had been darker than usual. It was just as well.
Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing while the weight of my backpack caused it to slip off my fingers and hit the floor. I was exhausted. Drained beyond belief from all the double shifts I’d been pulling, and I wasn’t even sure what was worse—feeling the disease conquer its way through my body, or fighting to hide it from everyone else.
A hand landed over my heart, its frantic rhythm beating against my palm like it was trying to get free. Suddenly, what felt like a piercing bolt of electricity struck my body. My eyes widened with the pain, mouth opening in a silent scream, and my knees hit the old wooden floor as my body crumbled. Still, that wasn’t what scared me the most.
The thunderous echo of a ragged roar resounded in my ears so loudly that my hands flew up to cover them, desperate to make it stop.
It didn’t.
My vision instantly succumbed to darkness; except I wasn’t blinded by it. No. Among the shadows and the monstrous whales of pain and anger, the silhouette of a man slithered. A green glow flew from his shadow, crashing into what felt like my being, a second before consciousness left me…
… The roar came again.
It was the middle of the night when my eyes fluttered open, heavy from sleep. I was still there, splayed over the wooden floor, my body strewn in awkward angles just like when I fell. Groaning, I pushed myself up to my feet, feeling every inch of me protest at the assault.
Rubbing both hands over my face, I tried to figure out what had happened, but the only explanation I could come up with was one I never even wanted to consider. I was losing a grip on reality… just like my mom had.
Nah, it was just a weird dream, that was all. The last two days had been insane at work, not to mention the weird encounter I had with Evanna. Just like I feared that day, I hadn’t seen her again, and for some reason that irked me, but whatever. I had way more important things to focus on right now.
Preparing my medicine, I administered what I could from my treatment—though I wasn’t sure if it even mattered anymore—and pulled out a T-shirt and boxers from my drawer, heading for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Steam began to fill the bathroom while I undressed, and throwing my dirty clothes on the floor, I stepped into the shower. The second the hot water hit my skin, it burned. Yet, it wasn’t an‘I set the water scalding hot’kind of burn, it was an ‘I should have remembered my injury before opening the pressure shower head’kind of ache.
My eyes snapped to my abs, instantly widening. Large hematomas had formed along my stomach, their blueish and purple hue as strong as if someone had kicked me. A few slight scrapes graced the skin, but it wasn’t just there. They were also along my arms, and from what I could see, towards my back too. Worried, I stepped out of the shower, wiping the fog from the mirror, and looked behind me from over my shoulder.
Water dripped freely from my arms and legs onto the tile floor, but I didn’t care. Desolation filled me when I stared at what resembled blows along the center of my back, the glaring bruises clear as day.
