He really did love me. He might have fucked up in how he showed it and he might have felt the need to carry on a certain way, but…
Wow.
“Why didn’t you think I ever wanted to be raised normal, Dad?”
“What?” he said.
I spoke cautiously. I knew in the back of my mind this emotional façade could change at the drop of a hat.
“All I’ve ever known my life is pleasure and material goods,” I said. “You give me whatever I want, and yet in doing so, you’ve dulled that reward system. I don’t know what it’s like to suffer and strive for something. I say I want something, and I have it. I know it sounds weird, but I want some struggle in my life. I want some difficulty. You know?”
But my father did not know. He looked so baffled, so confused.
“Why would you want that?” he said. “Do you listen when I speak about your grandfather and me? You do realize we are not exaggerating when we say war has affected our lives permanently, right? Do you want to live with these scars and this suffering? Because I can assure you, Lilly, that the scars are not just external.”
“No, I’m not saying send me to war. I’m just saying send me to life. I can handle a little heartbreak and hard times. There’s a big difference between losing a relationship and losing a friend in battle.”
I had to hope I was speaking the same vernacular as my father. The very fact that I couldn’t even be sure of that said it all.
“But how can I ever experience those things if I don’t have the freedom to? I’m in my twenties and not only do I still live with you, if you had it your way, I’d be this way until my thirties. And you will die someday. How am I supposed to survive when you do and I’ve never experienced things on my own?”
My father stood up, walked past me, and went to the balcony from my room. He looked at me for the briefest of moments before turning his gaze back to the evening sky outside.
“Maybe I did fail you.”
What?
“Dad?”
In a million fucking years, I never would have thought those words would come out of my father’s mouth. As the shock wore off, though, I began to feel so much sorrow for my father. How much pain was he in that he finally had to say that?
“When your mother died, it became so difficult. I did what I thought was best, but... I failed you, Lilly, and for that, I am so sorry. I should have…”
He didn’t finish whatever he was going to say, but he didn’t need to. I felt my eyes water.
“It’s OK, Dad.”
I tried my hardest not to break. My father had, after all, still sent a hit squad after the man that I…
I couldn’t say “loved” but the word felt a lot more natural and easier than it had before.
“It’s not,” he said. “But we have no choice in the matter. We must move forward.”
His tone, as he spoke, shifted from sorrowful and grieving to determined and rigid again. I felt a great unease returning, like I’d gotten my thirty seconds with my true father, and now it was time for him to return to the deepest parts of a prison of his own making. Now, instead of my real father, I would get this man masquerading as a security guard, who would do everything to protect me and his true self from any kind of hurt.
“Dad?”
“A great battle is coming, Lilly,” he said. “The Reapers will not stand for having one of their own attacked in the privacy of their home. The violence will be even greater if it turns out we killed Cole Carter. It will be a great victory, but not one without consequences.”
He turned to me, the empathetic eyes replaced by the soulless ones, ones hellbent on winning a battle at all costs.
“The plan is still to send you to Oregon. Unfortunately, I cannot protect you here any longer.”
“Dad!”
“The Reapers will be coming here to exact their revenge, and I must be here to meet them. But do not fear, Lilly. I will join you in a couple of days. You have my promise.”
“Dad! Stop!”
