I Can Hear You by Hannah Davenport Page A

as we sat there, he held me tight.  It felt good, right and I let the comfort seep through my body, warming my bones.  When he let go a little, he said, “You’re hurt.  Let’s go inside and I’ll bandage your head.” 
    He kept his arm around me as I walked into the small house.  My vision was still somewhat blurry but I could see an array of colors.  As he opened the door, he ushered me to a chair and said, “Sit down here.”  He helped me and I couldn’t help but smile a little.  Lately my emotions were up and down like a roller-coaster ride.  Right now I was somewhere in the middle, not sure if it would go up or plummet back down to the ground.
    He brought a wet cloth.  “Thank you.”  I wiped my head and then covered my eyes willing it to clear my vision.  I asked again, “You knew my mother?”
    “I did.  I haven’t seen her in a very long time,” he admitted.
    I smiled, “Neither have I,” and then I blacked out.
     
    I woke up lying in a nice warm bed covered with a soft white blanket.  Thank God, my clothes were still on.  Looking around, I noticed that my vision was back to normal.  “Ah, I see you’re finally awake.”  I looked up and saw the huge man standing at the head of the bed.  My body trembled when I realized I couldn’t hear his thoughts.  I tried to scoot back as far as possible trying to get away.  My eyes scanned the room searching for the nearest exit.  “Take it easy,” he said as he laid his hand on my shoulder.
    “Please, don’t hurt me,” I pleaded while squeezing my eyes tight; not wanting to see what was coming.
    “I won’t hurt you.”  When I heard the anguish in his voice, I cracked one eye open to peer at him.  “Why do you think I would?”
    Slowly opening both eyes to gage his reaction, I replied, “I can’t hear you so I know you’re one of them.”
    “One of them?” he mouthed with a confused look.  “Tell you what, let’s go have something to eat and then we’ll talk.  I promise you’re safe here.”  He held out his hand and I tentatively placed my hand in his.  Maybe he wasn’t so bad. 
    “Thank you.”  He helped me to a chair and handed me a bowl of soup.  I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I smelled the steamy goodness.  “Umm, this is good.”  He smiled and I noticed how handsome he appeared.
    “May I ask your name?”
    “Amber.”  I said in between bites.  His face fell.
    “Can you tell me your real name?”  I stopped eating and stared at him.  How did he know that wasn’t my real name?  I was so tired of hiding and he wasn’t buying it anyway.  This man had been nice to me and I honestly wanted to tell him the truth, so I did.
    “My mother told me to never reveal my real name.  Sorry.”  He grinned as he kept staring at me.  It made me feel a little uncomfortable, “What?”
    “I know this may come as a shock to you but I think I’m your father.  Actually, I know I am.”  The spoon dropped to the floor as my mouth gaped open.  I stared at him, trying to see the resemblance.   Could he be my father?  He knew my mother’s name.  “Please, tell me your name,” he asked.
    “Amber…I mean, Ambriel.  My name is Ambriel.  That felt so good.” I giggled. “I haven’t heard my name in fourteen years.”  I let out a deep breath of relief but kept the smile intact.  I wanted this man to be my father so badly, I hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake by trusting him but I had run out of options; they had found me in the cemetery.
    “Ambriel,” he laughed.  “I’m Desambriel, but everyone calls me Des, it’s nice to finally meet you.”  I know my mouth hung open.  Mom named me after him.
    I felt so happy that I burst out crying.  Throwing my arms around him, I sobbed on his shoulder.  When the tears slowed, I looked up at him as asked the one question I had always wanted to know, “Where have you been?” 
    I watched as sadness entered his eyes.  “They took