31. “He Didn’t Know Me.”
Sapphire
My father didn’t spare meanother glance as he left with my mother on the back of his motorcycle. But lingering effects of the incident left me cold to the touch and numb…until it didn’t.
“I was almost just murdered by your dad,” Niklaus comments, though there is a sliver of humor in his tone. “Murdered,” he annunciates dramatically.
My limbs tremble as we walk in the general direction of the city.
“He hit a spot on my throat. No idea how he did it, but I couldn’t fucking move.” Niklaus runs a hand over his bruised throat and laughs. “He fucking manhandled me like a ragdoll.”
If only my dad knew of the horrendous things Niklaus has said in his name. Would he have let him go? Would he have seriously hurt him if he knew how Niklaus has spent our youth tormenting me?
My chest coils in on itself. Lungs pause too long before taking in another breath. A thick blanket of tears forms a protective shell over my eyes, until they fall endlessly down my cheeks. I can’t erase the image of my father’s measured, executioner’s stare from my mind.
He didn’t know me.
All the years I dreamed about what it would be like to meet him, to watch him open his eyes and look at me. Really look at me. For my mom to say the words, this is your daughter, Sapphire.
It is unnatural how many tears slip from my hold, splashing against my chest. I’m not sure if I’ve ever cried this effortlessly. This quietly.
“We’ve heard stories about how Patient Thirteen could—” Niklaus pauses, stops walking, snatches my chin with two fingers. “—are you crying?!”
I blink up at him through swollen eyes and red cheeks, then jerk my face out of his hold.
He resumes walking behind me. “You’re crying because that was your first time meeting him.”
That reality put into words from a man I despise clenches a fist around my heart. The ache is so severe, it could bring me to my knees.
He didn’t know me.
He didn’t know me.
He didn’t know me.
Niklaus walks next to me in complete silence for a while. I’m not sure which direction we’re going in, or if we’ve been walking in a circle. I spend the majority of my time dissociating from what just happened. Detaching from the little girl that lives in the bed of my soul, so excited to come face-to-face with her daddy.
After a while, we make camp under a vast opening of trees, gather firewood, and lie under the stars. At some point, Dellilian appears to my right, curled in a ball fast asleep. Her black, moist nose nuzzles into my side. The subtle affection reminds me of DaiSzek. Any time I was sick, he’d know it before anyone else.
When I was six, I woke up to DaiSzek sniffing my face. I had a high fever, and he knew it immediately. After alerting my mom, he would snuggle up next to me—burrowing against the side of my body and draping his huge head on my shoulder to make sure he could keep track of my racing pulse. Somehow, I also felt so much better when he did this.
Dellilian’s snuggles make me miss home so much.
I miss walking past my dad’s room and seeing my mom take care of him. Change his sheets. Talk to him. Say prayers while she held his hands. I miss seeing him sleep and deep down choosing to believe he would have loved me.
I turn away from Niklaus to sob in complete silence. The only thing that gives me away is the shaking of my upper body.
“Absinthe made me go back to the abandoned cottage in the woods,” Niklaus says, breaking the silence. I’m not even sure if he’s speaking directly to me or not. His velvety voice is a deep hum under the night’s breeze, rustling of leaves, and owls cooing.
My sobs lessen but don’t stop.
“The Mind Phantoms. She used Mind Phantoms.” Niklaus covers my upper body with his tuxedo jacket. “Remember when I went missing when I was five? Uncle Warrose and DaiSzek found me?”
I don’t have to respond. He knows we all remember that day.
“Absinthe made me relive it. It gave me flashbacks to things the Demechnef extremists were trying to teach me. Trying to have me believe.”
I breathe in the warm aroma of his jacket. It smells so good. No fancy colognes or fragrances. No heavy body butters or oils. Just the slight whiff of fresh citrus and aquatic wood seeped into the warmth of his skin.
