He looks so fucking real. His skin is pale, and for the first time since I was a young kid, he has hair. It’s still really short, and I almost forgot that his hair was as dark as mine, but the proof of it is right here. Fresh, white bandages cover his neck, making the illusion even more authentic, but there’s no blood on it. It’ll reveal itself, though. Just like it did with Henry.
I’ve never known my father to look like this, and I’ve never witnessed this extreme desperation in his eyes. They’re so wide that I can see his blown pupils and the red veins that snake around his irises. His hands shake as he grasps my jaw, and he’s using so much force that I can’t pull away. It really feels likehim.
“Look at me, Damien! You are not hallucinating! Iamreal! I am alright.”
His words punch right into my chest, and it steals my breath. I can’t fucking move. We stand eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe as heforces his way in. His palms are warm and clammy, like he’s using every bit of the strength he has to keep me grounded. I can’t fall into the delusions again, but fuck, I want to. He looks so real. Hefeelsreal. I saw what they did to him. How is he here?
“Dad?”
“I’m okay,” he chokes up, and when tears actually spring to his eyes, my knees give in. I shove his hands away and grip the railing again, not able to accept the only affection he knows. My stomach sinks as I turn away from him another time. I’m terrified that the moment I turn back around, he’ll be gone, but I can’t help but look away. Even if this is another hallucination, I don’t deserve this chance—this gift. “Talk to me, son. Tell me what’s going through your mind.”
“You’re not real…” I whisper out, barely able to control my own emotions.
“I am real, Damien. I’m right here.”
“They shot you…”
“Yes, they did.”
I force myself to take a deep breath and let the clean air seep in. Everything else around me has been real. Well, anything that I can see, anyway, and to my knowledge, I haven’t been drugged again. The voices continue to assault my mind, but the breeze hits my face another time, reminding me that I’m home.
“I’ve been in the hospital for some time now, but I needed to see you,” my dad says softly, and I have to swallow back a sob.
“How are you alive?”
“To be completely honest with you, son, I don’t know. From what I understand, your men acted quickly, and the doctors were able to get to me in time. Aside from a miracle, I can’t explain it.” He clears his throat, and then he steps up beside me, adding to the warmth out here. “If you’re asking me that on a spiritual level, though, I would tell you that I wasn’t done being your father yet.”
My bottom lip quivers and I’m twelve all over again. I can’t handle it when my father talks like this. He’s never one to show emotions, but I’ve always known how much he loves me. He’s shown it in other ways. Hearing it now in such adoring words is just too much.
“I don’t deserve this…”
“Donotthink that, Damien, not for a damn second. No matter what they made you say, think, or do, you cast it out of your mind. Do you understand me?” His voice hardens again, and I just shake my head. He doesn’t understand the guilt that haunts me. He doesn’t know that I was willing to give him up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Ashia safe. He’s giving me more love than I’ve earned. “All that you need to ask yourself, is did you do everything you could for your family?”
“You don’t understand what I—”
“You think I don’t know?” he interrupts me with a harsh tone, and then he grabs my arm with the same desperation that coats his eyes. “I know when I was shot, and where. I know who was standing right in front of me when that bullet hit. You don’t think I understand what went through your mind?”
I shake my head, unwilling to accept his excuse.
“You’re my family, too…”
“No. What have I taught you, son? Above anything else? Past the fighting, the sneaking, and the weaponry, what haveItaught you?”
“To be a good man…”
“No, Damien. I taught you to be a good man for your family. I made sure that when you grew up, you would be able to protectyourfamily—your wife, and your children. No matter what you did, did you do it to protectthem?”
“Yes…” I answer without hesitation.
“Then you listen to me one last time. Nothing else matters. Do you hear me?Nothing. It'll hurt like hell, and you'll have woundsthat will never heal, but that's whatmendo for their families. That's what agoodman does. They carry the burden and put the ones they love before anything else. So, if that’s what you did, then…”
He takes a deep, trembling breath in—as if he’s having trouble controlling his emotions. I can’t bear to look at him yet. My gaze remains on the trees, because I know that if I tear my eyes away and see the pain on his face, it’ll destroy me.
“I know I should've said it long before today, but you are everything I could've hoped for in a son and more,” he confesses likehe'sthe one asking for redemption, and I finally look at him once again. His eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and they hold more pride than I've ever seen before. The sight forces me to grip the railing a little tighter in hopes of keeping myself on my feet. “You areexactlythe man I knew you would be, and there'snothingthey could've made you do that would change my mind.”
He moves his arm from mine and adjusts to grip the side of my head again. His strength only pulls me closer, forcing our faces to stand only about an inch apart.
“I am so damn proud of you, Damien. So whatever guilt you carry for me, get rid of it.”
