Page 109 of Wings of Lies
He stumbled back, letting go of my plate as if he could read those thoughts in my eyes.
We all ate silently, one of us glaring, one of us staring, and me questioning.
When night fell, there was no king.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
My head whipped to the side, forcing me to look at the vanity mirror and the angry hand mark on my cheek. I stared at my young reflection and the wobble in my lip, knowing I didn’t want to witness this memory, but my dream-walks were the best way to fix my memory loss.
“You are a daughter of an Archangel.I will not see you behave this way; do you understand me?” His eyes glowed white.
It always seemed like Dad was mad at me.But why?
I nodded, trying to choke back tears. Dad hated tears. They’d only make him angrier.
He inhaled a long breath and blew it out, eyes returning to their normal gray.
Dad’s eyes, right after they lost their white glow, were the worst. The first time, a couple of birthdays ago, I thought it meant he was happy again. I thought it meant the storm was over. He’d smack meand then hug me. I learned how to hold in my tears, and it was okay. But then, something changed, and the smacking wasn’t enough.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes my temper gets the better of me; come here,” he motioned with his hands.
I paused, looking up at him.I won’t cry. I won’t cry. I won’t cry.
“Come here. Don’t be a wimp. It’s fine,” he insisted.
He was my dad—or father. That was what he liked to be called now, no longer daddy or dad. Those words got me hit. Now it was father.
But in my head, I called him Dad.
I walked into his arms. My head rested against his stomach, wrapping around his waist. I let a couple of tears leak out onto his shirt, fisting my shaking hands into the fabric. But the hug didn’t stop the sliding noise. My tears turned to quiet streams.
“Why, Dad? I was only playing. I didn’t mean to let my light shine through. It only hurt him a little.” I pulled out of his arms, picked up Thumper, the stuffed animal rabbit, and shoved him into his face. Plastic black pieces speckled Thumper’s head where his ear used to be.
Smack!
My stinging face pressed into the fur of Thumper, hiding the leaky tears and snot from my dad. Needles prickled my skin, pushing out at my tiny body. Tears came faster from the achy feeling.
Don’t let it show. Don’t be a wimp. Maybe he won’t use it.
“Remember what we said about the word dad? You’re older now—none of that. Now, don’t be a wimp; turn around and lift your shirt. You know what I said about your powers last time this happened.”
I didn’t want to turn. But I didn’t want to be a wimp either. Hugging Thumper, I stared down at my dad’s white shoes. Maybe he’d let it go. Maybe he could just hug me again.
“Turn Lucille, or there will be more than one this time.”
The feeling under my skin increased along with my tears.Don’t show it. Don’t be a wimp.
I turned.I wasn’t a wimp.
“Put your bunny in your mouth. Remember, no noise unless you desire your mother’s anger. Then you’ll never see me again.”
Bunny to my mouth, sniffling, I nodded. I didn’t want my dad never to come back. I wanted him to love me like Mom did. But he was always mad at me, and I think that was why he left us for so long. Mom was never mad at me. She always told me how proud she was of me. But I didn’t want her to leave, too. So I bit Thumper and made sure to clench hard enough no noise would come out for her to hear.
I bit into Thumper with all my strength. When he pressed the buzzing knife in harder, sliding it down my skin, I couldn’t hold back my scream. I couldn’t help being a wimp. It hurt. So much.
I stared with blurry eyes at my purple bed and the other stuffed animals next to my pillows. Their fuzziness looked like home. I wanted to curl up and cry in them.
