Page 89 of Even Robots Die
“Like you didn’t let me go alone in the first place?” I ask. “We’ve all seen how well it worked. If you hadn’t appointed me a bodyguard, no one would have tried to shoot me. I’m no one. I’m a nobody, or at least I was until you decided I needed guarding. And now what? Now I’m in a world that isn’t mine. I’m way over my head in shit that isn’t mine, and it’s not like I can fight back like you all. I’m just human. I’m nothing special, and they’re going to come after me, after my family. Hell, they might already have my Dad. And all of it is because I agreed to work for you. How are we going to leave now? Hidden for the rest of our lives for one single bad decision I made? Scared of going out? Scared to live?”
I don’t realize my breathing is out of sync until Brice comes to my side on the bed and rubs my back.
“Breathe,” he tells me. “Everything is going to be alright.”
I look at him with my best “am I to believe you just because you say so” look, but I still listen to him as he brings my hand over his heart so my breathing follows the rises and falls of his chest.
“We’ll protect your sisters, and once we have your dad, we’ll protect him, too. They might have to live in Notre Dame for a while, but we’ll make sure they’re well taken care of, and I’ll send a team to retrieve whatever belongings they need so they don’t feel completely lost here. That being said, you're not their savior.”
He throws me a look that dares me to cut him off and argue, but I’m still out of breath so I let it go.
“You’re not their savior. You’re not their mother either. You’re their sister and they seem to forget that too easily. If you want to consider that working for me was a mistake, so be it. I messed up. I didn’t realize it would be more dangerous for you to go back to Paris with one of us than it would be if you had gone on your own. And I’ll die knowing I messed up. If you had died today, I would have never forgiven myself. “
“If I had died today, you’d be stuck staying away from your best friend,” I whisper under my breath.
My breathing is back to normal, but I don’t want to talk more than that or I might start hyperventilating again.
“That’s not what’s important. Yes, I care about the job you’re doing for me. I wouldn’t spend so much money on it if I didn’t care, but that is not what this is about. I might be an ass who likes to toy with you often, but what you can do for me isn’t more important than who you are as a person. It isn’t more important than you and your safety.”
He pauses like he wants to make sure I understand that he means what he’s telling me.
“And never tell me again that you are nothing special or a nobody. I don’t know a lot of people that could reprogram someone’s brain, build weapons in their free time, or even make their own AI from scratch all while taking care of their family. I only know one person who can actually do all of that, and it’s you. Your family might not see it, and you might think I’m telling you this because I want you to finish the job I’m paying you for, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is true. You’re a fucking genius, and more than that, you’re kind, you’re caring, and you’re compassionate to the point you forget that you have a right to live your life the way you want. You forget you’re allowed to have expectations that are completely different from your dad or your sisters. You’re allowed to want things for yourself. You’re allowed towant. Period. And if I have to piss you off for you to hear me say that, I’ll make you mad every day until you finally believe it.”
50
Florentine
Idon’t know how to answer Brice. It was beautiful, yes, but fuck, it hurts.
It felt as if he was probing every dark part of me that I refuse to acknowledge on even my best days. It felt as if he saw much more than he had let on until now.
It also echoes the fact my sisters didn’t even ask if I was okay after surviving two bullets in my legs. It echoes the fact I didn’t give a second thought to it and that if it wasn’t for the deep fatigue I felt after whatever the doctor had given me, I would already be on my way to finding Dad. It echoes the fact that I’m still working my ass off to give them a better life, but it’s like nothing I do will ever be enough.
I keep telling myself that it’s normal. They lost their mother super young. It was hard on them, and that’s why they need my love, my affection, my caring, especially since Dad isn’t always there to provide that for them. But in the end, who is going to love me the way I love them?
No, I can’t start thinking like that.
No, no, no.
This isn’t the right time.
I have other things to do, other more important things to do than dwell on what could be.
I can wonder all I want, but it’s not going to change the fact I need to find Dad.
I just hope he didn’t do something stupid enough to land him in the bird-shifters’ cells.
It would be a first for him, but I can’t really put it past him. If he tried to borrow money from the wrong people, it could very well land him in dark places, especially since Dad has never really been a good player.
But why would he? He always has me to fix things afterwards. No matter how bad the situation gets money-wise, I always make sure there’s food on the table and the bills are paid—be it the girls’ school or electricity. I even set his debts right a couple of times already.
So it could be anything, and I fear what some of the worst men could do to him if he didn’t pay them back.
I should hurry. Sometimes a few minutes is all it takes for a situation to go from bad to worse, but weirdly, I don’t want to move.
Brice’s hand is still at my back drawing circles through the hospital gown they have dressed me in, even if my breathing has been back to normal for a while now, and I know I should keep my distance and let his hand fall away, but I think I need the little comfort this is bringing me.
I know it’s only temporary and in just a few minutes he’ll go back to trying to piss me off like he always does, but I can’t help but notice that he’s showing a lot of empathy for someone who is supposed to not feel any emotion whatsoever.
