do. I had to take a breath. I could feel
myself closing up like I had done when Azrael and I had broken up. The physical
pain with that had been almost as bad as this.
I
had closed my eyes and fought the desperate pain I felt. I felt hands grip my
shoulder and someone crouch down on me. I felt protected and looked up through
my eyelashes to see Anie was hugging me. I was lucky to have her.
“For
how long?” She asked quietly.
“I
– I don’t know. Forever? When had he started drilling me, verbally belittling
me, locking me up when I did something he didn’t like –” Annie rocked me back
and forth. She tried to comfort me. She had done it for me before when I was
going through things with my Father, but nothing compared to this.
“Life
is never going to be the same.” I whispered.
“Welcome
to my world.” She said. I laughed sadly, because it was true.
She
had gone through a complete life upheaval when she had been changed. And while
neither of our changes were voluntary I, at least with any luck, would be able
to save my Father and choose which supe I became. Hopefully. How? I had no
idea.
I
made it up to my bedroom with Anie’s arms still circling me, supporting me. She
helped me undress, leaving me in my underwear and put me under the covers. She
patted my arm and told me to get some rest. I knew there was more likely a
chance of ice water in hell, but I didn’t say anything. It had been too long
since anyone had taken care of me.
I
closed my eyes and let the world die to me. I needed the quiet, even if I
wasn’t going to sleep.
~XIII~
“Some hid scars and some hid scratches, It made me wonder about their
past…”
– Of Monsters & Men, Mountain Sound
I
cracked my eyes open and saw it was still pitch black out. I had lost
consciousness a couple times so far throughout the night/morning, but to call
it sleep would be wrong. There was nothing restful about it, not even for a
moment. The Shadow weighed heavily on me and every time I closed my eyes I
would reexamine every memory I could conjure to try and remember some sort of
normalcy, but there had been none. Not since I was 4.
I
finally pinpointed when the Shadow had most likely taken over. My Dad hadn’t
come to read to me one night shortly after my fifth birthday. I remembered
being heartbroken and falling asleep, uneasily, after reading myself the story
I knew by heart. It wasn’t as good as when my Dad had read it to me, but it was
better than nothing. That next morning I sat at the kitchen table without my Dad,
which was odd in and of itself. But I didn’t want to bother him in case he had
been out on a mission for the Hunters and been up late.
He
had left me very few times since I had been born. When it had happened there
was always someone there to keep me company while he was out. The Hunters that watched
me would normally make breakfast and play with me while my Dad caught up on his
sleep. There was no one around that I could see that morning. So, I made two
pieces of toast, buttered them (with my fingers because I was told to never
touch the knives without permission) poured myself a glass of orange juice in
one of my plastic cups (because the glass ones were for grownups) and ate
breakfast at the kitchen table by myself.
My
Father stomped into the room that morning looking severe and missing the warmth
I knew my Father to have. I remember thinking about how the night before must
have been horrible for him to be acting like that, and how glad I would be when
he started acting normal again. But it never ended. My Father was severe, cold
and downright mean from that day forward.
I
should have known, even then. I was a child, but a Hunter by blood. Something
should have told me that my Father wasn’t right. Hell, any one of the Hunters
who had known my Father should’ve seen the change. But no one had seen my Father
the way I had seen him. Maybe things had been bad for so long that I forgot to
remember when things were good. And
myself closing up like I had done when Azrael and I had broken up. The physical
pain with that had been almost as bad as this.
I
had closed my eyes and fought the desperate pain I felt. I felt hands grip my
shoulder and someone crouch down on me. I felt protected and looked up through
my eyelashes to see Anie was hugging me. I was lucky to have her.
“For
how long?” She asked quietly.
“I
– I don’t know. Forever? When had he started drilling me, verbally belittling
me, locking me up when I did something he didn’t like –” Annie rocked me back
and forth. She tried to comfort me. She had done it for me before when I was
going through things with my Father, but nothing compared to this.
“Life
is never going to be the same.” I whispered.
“Welcome
to my world.” She said. I laughed sadly, because it was true.
She
had gone through a complete life upheaval when she had been changed. And while
neither of our changes were voluntary I, at least with any luck, would be able
to save my Father and choose which supe I became. Hopefully. How? I had no
idea.
I
made it up to my bedroom with Anie’s arms still circling me, supporting me. She
helped me undress, leaving me in my underwear and put me under the covers. She
patted my arm and told me to get some rest. I knew there was more likely a
chance of ice water in hell, but I didn’t say anything. It had been too long
since anyone had taken care of me.
I
closed my eyes and let the world die to me. I needed the quiet, even if I
wasn’t going to sleep.
~XIII~
“Some hid scars and some hid scratches, It made me wonder about their
past…”
– Of Monsters & Men, Mountain Sound
I
cracked my eyes open and saw it was still pitch black out. I had lost
consciousness a couple times so far throughout the night/morning, but to call
it sleep would be wrong. There was nothing restful about it, not even for a
moment. The Shadow weighed heavily on me and every time I closed my eyes I
would reexamine every memory I could conjure to try and remember some sort of
normalcy, but there had been none. Not since I was 4.
I
finally pinpointed when the Shadow had most likely taken over. My Dad hadn’t
come to read to me one night shortly after my fifth birthday. I remembered
being heartbroken and falling asleep, uneasily, after reading myself the story
I knew by heart. It wasn’t as good as when my Dad had read it to me, but it was
better than nothing. That next morning I sat at the kitchen table without my Dad,
which was odd in and of itself. But I didn’t want to bother him in case he had
been out on a mission for the Hunters and been up late.
He
had left me very few times since I had been born. When it had happened there
was always someone there to keep me company while he was out. The Hunters that watched
me would normally make breakfast and play with me while my Dad caught up on his
sleep. There was no one around that I could see that morning. So, I made two
pieces of toast, buttered them (with my fingers because I was told to never
touch the knives without permission) poured myself a glass of orange juice in
one of my plastic cups (because the glass ones were for grownups) and ate
breakfast at the kitchen table by myself.
My
Father stomped into the room that morning looking severe and missing the warmth
I knew my Father to have. I remember thinking about how the night before must
have been horrible for him to be acting like that, and how glad I would be when
he started acting normal again. But it never ended. My Father was severe, cold
and downright mean from that day forward.
I
should have known, even then. I was a child, but a Hunter by blood. Something
should have told me that my Father wasn’t right. Hell, any one of the Hunters
who had known my Father should’ve seen the change. But no one had seen my Father
the way I had seen him. Maybe things had been bad for so long that I forgot to
remember when things were good. And
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