“I cared for Derrick, you’re correct,” she said, “but it wasn’t meant to be.”
I stared at her, waiting for more, my skin crawling. Why was she like this? My fingers were flexing with frustration, and I wanted to strangle her for holding so much in.
“Then he isn’t my dad?” I asked, my voice wavering.
She stared at me.
“Anna, you know that your father’s gone,” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “Except, if he were dead, why do you still live in such fear? Why am I training like I’m going to war? Why can’t you talk to me about him, after all this time? Who could make you so afraid that you would choose for me to hate you rather than tell me the truth?”
My mom hung her head, tears running down her cheeks.
“Derrick,” she said, her voice oddly steady. “I think you should go.”
Derrick didn’t move. “Adelyna.”
“Go.”
Derrick leaned forward, as if he was going to go to her, but in the end, his eyes lowered, and he surrendered to my mom’s will. His gaze shifted to the sheathed sword in my hand.
“Next time I see you, you will complete your training,” he said, his voice firm and low.
I stared as he turned, his long, dark coat whipping behind him, extinguishing the candle’s flame as he vanished.
I tightened my fists, my fingernails digging into my skin.
“I’ve accepted that this is how our life is. That you’ll stay here on this lonely mountain until the day you die. I’ve accepted I’ll never know who my dad was, and I’ll never know any of my other family because of your self-centered righteousness. But what I don’t accept is you bringing someone into my life, someone that understands me, and then ripping them away from me because of your bullshit!” I shouted and finally looked at her.
Tears stained her porcelain skin; her eyes were the palest blue I’d ever seen.
“You’re right, Anna,” she said, her voice soft. “I know I haven’t been the best mother, and you’ve not been happy. But this is the life that I can give you, and I’ll do anything to protect you—even if you hate me.”
I shook my head, her words twisting like frozen barbed wire around my heart.
“How can a living death be something you want for your child?” I said, struggling to get through the words amidst the pain in my head and chest. “Even going to a movie, like everyone my age, is too much for you. It’s like I’m not even alive when I’m here with you.”
She jerked as if I’d slapped her. She avoided my gaze and finally closed her eyes.
“You’re right,” she muttered. “Of course, you’re right. I don’t wish that for you, nor anyone.”
“Then why?” I asked. “Why not tell me the truth? Why are we here like this, Mom? Why won’t you tell me anything about my dad?”
She touched her forehead as if in pain and cried out softly under her breath.
Not moving, she spoke, but softly. “Derrick cannot be your father, but I think you know that, deep down. Regardless, youcan trust him, Anna. Remember that,” she said, her hand falling to her side.
She looked at me with a haggard expression, pain etched in lines I’d never noticed around her eyes before.
“You seem to understand these things far more naturally than I ever did. To need a bond with someone, to feel loved; I never had any idea what that was until I was an adult. But it wasn’t until you were born that I truly understood unconditional love. The spirit must be maintained as much as the body, and I’ve failed you in that way. Forgive me, Anna,” she said.
Silence filled the space like fog.
It was deafening.
“I won’t forgive you unless you tell me the truth,” I said, my voice quivering with rage.
“I can’t tell you about him, because you’d seek him out,” she whispered, as if she were scared to say it aloud.
