It didn’t take long until I felt the bed dip beside me, stirring me awake.
“Sleep is overrated.” I grinned, winking at her through the soft lighting coming in through the window from the full moon.
“Did your mami rub your back too? When you were little and had nightmares?” she curiously asked, wanting to learn something about me.
Nothing about her question was surprising. It was a running theme with Amira. She was always looking for answers to questions I wouldn’t reply to. Not that I could blame her, all she wanted was to get to know me. Which was much easier said than done. So many conflicting emotions emerged through me in a matter of seconds.
I clenched my eyebrows together, deep in thought. I think I stunned us both when I responded with, “I never met my mother.”
“Do you miss her?”
My stare never wavered from the textured ceiling, contemplating how to answer her intrusive question. I thought about nothing and everything all at once, wanting to hold back the truth or, quite possibly, what I really wanted to say, before I finally uttered, “You can’t miss what you’ve never had.”
She winced, not expecting that reply to fall from my lips. Quite frankly, I was just as shocked by my response, admitting that out loud for the first time ever. I never wanted anyone’s fucking pity, especially hers.
I didn’t deserve it.
“What about your papi? Did he ever comfort you?”
I turned my head and narrowed my eyes at her through the darkness, trying to analyze what she saw in me. I’d catch myself doing this often, needing to see myself through her eyes, from a different perspective. They were always hopeful, eager, and full of so much fucking life. When her eyes widened, and she faintly smiled, I swear she knew what I was doing. How in the fuck this ten-year-old little girl could interpret my silence was beyond me.
“It’s late, Amira. You need your sleep.”
She sighed, disappointed by my lack of response. There wasn’t a need for her to know about my life. Hers was already tainted enough because of me. The damage was already done, and the last thing I wanted to do was fuck her up even more. I wanted to keep Amira as innocent and pure as humanly possible, for however long I was capable of. It was the least I could do, I owed it to her and her family.
She smiled again, scooting into the side crevice of my body. Wrapping her arm around my torso to rest her head on my chest. She whispered, “Don’t worry, Damien. I’ll rub your back if you have a bad dream.”
I chuckled, kissing the top of her head. Another natural endearment I had always had for her, and I didn’t have that for anyone else.
Affection.
“Aye, Mu?eca, you have such a big heart. Don’t ever change. Not for anyone. Including me.”
After that night, she never stopped prying for answers. Except now they weren’t in such an elusive way. She no longer tiptoed around the subject like she used to.
About my past.
My present.
My fucking future.
It didn’t matter how many times I reverted the questions back to her. Amira wouldn’t give up. The first time she saw me, I knew she felt a certain familiarity in my presence. It was the reason she was always so comfortable around me to begin with. As the years continued to go by, it only became more undeniable that the emotion she had perceived was much more than just her safety. There were times when she didn’t have to say one fucking word, just being around her brought a sense of calm over me. She knew it too.
And no fucking good could ever come of that.
Specifically, for her.
The pounding knock on the door tore me away from the realm of my purgatory. I had lost all concept of time as soon as I stepped foot out on that balcony, crossing the threshold somewhere between reality and my plaguing thoughts. I took one last swig of bourbon straight from the bottle and shook off my demons. Needing to regain my thick-skinned, fierce composure before I walked back inside. Curious to see who the impatient fuck, incessantly banging on my door, was.
I was shocked as shit when I finally opened it.
“The fuc—”
He shoved past me, barging right in as if he was invited. Fully aware he wasn’t even fucking welcome. I couldn’t resist breathing out a snide chuckle as I kicked the door shut behind me and leaned against it. I slowly placed my hands in the pockets of my fatigues, cocking my head to the side. Watching the son of a bitch’s every move as he made his way around the open floor plan of my apartment, looking for I don’t know what.
“So you do know where I live?” I greeted, desperately wanting to get this family fucking reunion over with.
My father abruptly stopped at the kitchen island, intently eyeing me up and down. Time seemed to stand still as his stare gradually made its way back up to my face. From the moment his eyes barred into mine, it started to unravel a deep resolve within my core. While he anxiously searched for any remnants of his long, lost son, with nothing but a reminiscent glare. I could see my childhood flash before his eyes as he stood directly in front of me. Each time he blinked, another milestone from my life came into his sight. All of it. Every memory, every emotion…
The good.
The bad.
The destructive.
Leading us right back to that night as if the last five years didn’t exist. Like nothing had changed between us, when in fact, everything had. Every last one of his demons were emerging, clouding the small space amongst us. It all hit him so fucking hard to the point that the walls started caving in on him.
The answers he needed.
The truth he was looking for.
The reality of his mistakes and regrets.
They were all burying him alive, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel it. But too many lies had come between us, too many dead bodies killed by my own two hands. All in the name of what he instilled in me to do.
I was growing anxious and impatient from the mixture of emotions he stirred inside of me. I hadn’t felt them for him in so fucking long. The sentiments dwelled in the dark hollow space of my heart where he used to exist.
You see, I didn’t just lose my soul that night…
I lost my father too.
The man who made me was also the man who destroyed me. Condemning us both straight to Hell.
There wasn’t an inch of my skin that didn’t feel his love or judgmental glare, and I couldn’t fathom which one was worse. I could no longer just stand there, having him analyze me as if I was just some goddamn lab rat.
Unable to deal with this sentimental bullshit. I spitefully mocked, “Do you like what you see?” Needing to once again regain the control of my surroundings and emotions.
“No, Damien, I don’t. Quite frankly, I don’t think you do either. Am I wrong?”
“You’re not right,” I countered, pushing off the door. “Why don’t you cut the bullshit and tell me what the fuck I can do for you?”
“Jesus, son—”
I got right up in his face. “I’m not your son anymore, and I haven’t been in a long fucking time.”