Born of Fire

Closing his eyes, he inhaled the scent of Shahara’s skin. But not even that could soothe him. “I stole a flower from the park and took it home to her, hoping it would make her smile. When I opened the door to give it to her, she was on the bed, covered in blood.”


Everything had gone black and white in his vision as he saw her lying awkwardly on the bed, except for the bright red blood that haunted him to this day. It stood out starkly against the other colors.

Dropping the daisy to the floor, he’d screamed out, “No!” A cry of agony that had come straight from the deepest, darkest part of his young being as he ran to the bed to try and wake her.

But he’d known it was useless.

She’d left him alone in a world that hated him as much as it had hated her.

He’d slipped on her blood that had soaked the floor and had crawled on his hands and knees while he sobbed, begging her to live. Begging her to open her eyes and tell him he wasn’t so bad. Sobbing and desperate, he’d taken her cold hand and held it to his face. “Why would you leave me, Talia? Why?” But in his heart he’d known the answer.

It was the same reason Mara had left him.

He wasn’t good enough.

Now Shahara held him close as he tightened his grip on her. “It’s all right, Syn. I have you.”

He didn’t believe that. No one had him or wanted him. They never had. He pulled back from her and handed her the photo remains. “Thanks for finding this, but it’s not what I was looking for.”

“Then tell me. Maybe I saw it. Talk to me, Syn. Please.”

Syn wanted to tell her to go to hell. But she reached out and cupped his cheek in her hand. It was such a tender touch. No one had ever comforted him like this.

Not even Mara

And he was helpless before it. Before he could stop himself, he answered. “It was a note.”

She pulled back to frown at him. “A note?”

Syn closed his eyes as more agony ripped him apart. Even now he could see Paden’s bright, happy face as his son had run to greet him when he came home from work the night before the reporter had ruined his perfect lie of a life. He’d scooped the boy up and laughed as he hugged him close, grateful to have such a pure, untainted love to call his own.

Paden had bounced in his arms. “Daddy! Daddy! Look what I made!” He’d stuck a piece of paper in his face so close that at first all Syn could see was a bright blue color.

Laughing, he’d kissed his son’s cheek and pulled the drawing back until it came into focus. It was the two of them standing in the hospital with a rainbow over their heads. And in the rainbow, Paden had scrawled the words: I lov you, Dedy.

Nothing had ever meant more to him than those precious words that had been written from his son’s heart. That one moment of pure joy, knowing that after all he’d been through, he had one person alive who really loved him. One person who saw him as he wanted to be.

He could still feel those tiny arms around his neck as Paden kissed his cheek and laid his head on his shoulder.

A perfect, untainted moment . . .

Gods, to have that back for a single second . . .

But it was gone, along with the love and respect Paden had had for him.

“Get away from me, you lying bastard. I don’t want anything from you. Thank the gods you’re not my real father. You disgust me. I never want to see you again.” Those were the last words Paden had said to him.

But not even those harsh words could erase that one precious memory . . . or that drawing that he’d kept all these years in a watertight container sewn into his backpack.

His last memento of the life he’d wanted so desperately to live. A life he’d fought so hard for and one he missed every single second of the solitary hell he was now living.

Somehow they’d found it, and it was as gone as his son’s love.

I should have never kept it.

“Syn?”

He stared into a pair of golden eyes that even now looked at him suspiciously. Couldn’t one person ever see him? “It was just a stupid note, Shahara. Nothing more.”

Shahara didn’t believe him. There was too much pain in his eyes. She brushed his hair back from his forehead and even without him telling her, she knew what it had to be. Only one thing could have shredded him like this.

“It was from Paden, wasn’t it?”

He pulled away from her.

“Talk to me, Syn.”

“I’m not a woman, Shahara. Yes, it was from Paden. Now can we leave it alone?” He moved to pick up his clothes.

Her entire being ached at the knowledge of his tender soul that had been pulverized by everyone around him. And what had he treasured most?

A note written by a child he’d loved. One he continued to love and care for even while the child spurned him.

It was so unfair.

How could anyone ever leave him? What kind of fool had Mara been that she could shove away a man capable of such love and devotion even when she didn’t deserve it?

And in that instant, she realized the most frightening thing of all.