My father chuckles, hair dangling in front of his left eye with a maddened expression peaking through the thin strands. He lets go, face turning red, and he eases off him with both hands in the air.
“I’m only having a little fun,” he says, winking.
His catch phrase. Well, I know better.
“How are you alive?” I ask.
My father steps into the light once more. He takes off his black hat, holding it to his heart. His eyes, blue as the sky, peer back at me with a sudden gentleness I’ve never seen before in him. He steps forward and kisses my forehead.
Then his eyes change, blackened with some dark understanding. His face has been burned, flesh covered in severe scars. His eyes are sunken and dark as oil, and inside them it looks as if the world has turned and broken to pieces.
It’s me who is breaking. Me and my heart.
“There was one thing I never taught you,” he says.
I swallow, mouth suddenly very fucking dry. “What is it?”
“Ava, don’t listen to him,” Kalxor says.
I bite and gain more confidence as he steps more and more into the light. “Tell me,” I mutter.
“You can’t beat me,” he says.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stagger backward, spine hitting the brick wall behind me. My breath starts to speed up as I process everything.
“I led you here. I gave you Elon’s card. I made this happen,” he says. “Me.”
My bones feel like dust. If I take another step, I might explode into the air.
I thought he might tell me he’s sorry. I thought there might be some redemption to all of this, but there’s not. You can’t get rid of pain. You can only understand it.
It is always a part of you.
The last few days flash in front of me. The meetings. The man dressed in black with familiar eyes. The business card that led me to Arnoi Industries. That fucking receptionist...
All of it was a ploy, a set-up by my own father.
He is the man who met me at that support meeting.
He’s the man dressed for a funeral, waiting by the dessert cart to send me into another state of self-loathing and loveless depression.
That smile. That wink. His darkness.
I should have recognized him.
What’s his aim?
I feel dizzy, like I’m not quite right in the head.
“Ava...” Kalxor moans. “What is he talking about?”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “I went to your funeral. I saw you die.”
He slides a forefinger underneath my chin and hushes me down as if I’m still three years old. “Your mind is infected, Ava,” he says, too gentle. “You can’t trust yourself. That’s why I’m here. To keep you safe. Forever.”
The word forever rings out in my head, reverberating endlessly. I have to get away.
“I can feel your thoughts,” he says. “I can sense your panic, but do not be afraid.”