Chapter 33
Ashia
Two Days Later
‘How A Storm Breaks’ - Astyria
This is the first time in a while I’ve been out on our bedroom balcony.
There’s not a nice breeze this time. The air is humid and damp, and it makes each breath feel heavy.
It feels as intense as the weight on my shoulders.
It’s dark out, and even though the moon is almost full, there’s barely any light shining through the clouds.
The forest behind the house is nothing but a dark abyss, almost like if I were to step into the trees, I’d never make it back out.
It reminds me of when I was a kid, and I’d either stay up all night or have just woken up from my dad screaming at some ridiculous hour.
When I would escape onto the awning roof too late, it would be just as dark.
The lights that lined the street we lived on were never working, so I could never see past the roof lining.
It always somehow felt safer there than inside, though—probably because I always knew that if I just made it out there until morning, that Richard would drive by and see me.
I miss him. We haven’t talked in a few weeks, and while that’s normal for us sometimes, it feels weird now.
Ever since the Andersons came to the Attic, and they found out what Damien really does, it’s like there’s this wedge between us.
Serena has told him that Damien’s missing, but as far as I know, she hasn’t said much to him either, and I hate it.
Before Damien and I found each other, Richard was my knight in shining armor.
Not in the fairytale way, obviously, but he saved me back then.
He took care of me, protected me, and I could always tell him anything.
Somehow, he would always make sense out of anything.
Could he make sense of this life, though?
I’m not sure that he wants to claim me anymore, and that thought makes the back of my eyes burn.
I’m sure living a vigilante lifestyle was nothing he imagined for someone he considers a daughter.
I wouldn’t change my life with Damien for anything in the world, but it would break my heart if Richard disowned me.
I shouldn't think that way. He didn't yell or shout, and he didn't say that he was disappointed, but I could feel it.
I should've spoken to him sooner. The silence between us is suddenly overwhelming.
I'm going to blame the hormones, because I suddenly feel like if I don't talk to my dad, I'm going to burst into tears.
It's not like if he says everything is going to be okay, that it'll magically fix this horrible situation, but I yank my phone out and dial his number anyway.
He might not answer. I mean, it is almost three o’clock in the morning, but I’ve got to try.
When I was younger, I used to get this urge all the time.
I would feel it every evening when I’d go out on the roof and wait for him to drive by.
There was one night when he didn't drive by at all, and I was so scared that I ran away to their house.
He was fine. He was just sick and didn't go to work that day, but my mind didn't even think of that possibility.
We have this weird relationship where we give each other too much space, and then freak out when the distance becomes overwhelming.
I guess it's my turn to freak out, because he hasn’t given in yet.
I pull the phone up to listen as it rings, and I immediately regret it.
This could've waited until the sun came up.
I know that somewhere deep in my depression-riddled brain.
It's been too long since Damien's held me. That's all this is. I'm feeling super fucking needy, and he’s not here to coddle me. Anytime I feel like the world is ending, Damien would fix it. So, now that he can’t wrap his arms around me, I can’t help but crave the attention from the only other person in the world who’s ever been able to do the same.
That burdening feeling only gets stronger with each ring, and as I go to pull the phone away, he surprisingly answers.
“Pumpkin? What’s the matter? It’s like four in the morning…” he says groggily, and hearing Richard’s voice apparently gives my eyes the permission to let a tear fall.
“It’s three. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called…”
“You know you can call me whenever, Ashia. I’m just worried, that’s all.” There’s a soft pause that's only filled with soft grunts, like he's forcing himself out of bed. “Is everything okay?”
“As okay as it could be, I suppose…”
“Is there any word on Damien?”
“No. Not yet…” I wipe the tears from my face.
There’s another long pause, and I hate the way my throat tightens.
I've never been good at these conversations.
I either laugh or cry uncontrollably most of the time, but I try to push through it.
“Listen, I know things have been weird between us lately, but—”
“What do you mean weird?”
My mouth forces itself closed. He’s not mad?
He hasn’t been spiraling for weeks, thinking about his adoptive daughter being married to a vigilante?
He wasn't necessarily Damien’s biggest fan to begin with, and Richard didn't even know the truth when we got married. There’s got to be more to this silence.
I couldn’t have been sitting here freaking out just now when there was nothing wrong between us.
My hormones cannot be that out of whack.
“Well, I know you don’t necessarily approve of our life…” I softly start again, for whatever stupid reason.
“A father rarely ever does when that life involves his daughter being married, pumpkin,” he laughs softly, and just past that, I can subtly hear the coffee pot beep in the background.
It's strangely comforting. They've had the same one for years.
He says that it's ‘seasoned’ or something, and that a new one’s brews wouldn't taste as good.
God, I miss coffee. I miss the subtle bitterness that hides behind all of the cream I dump into it.
I'll never forget Damien’s face when he tried my cup that one morning.
His eyes were so wide, and he stared at the mug like it was going to jump out and bite him.
That memory reminds me of the night before that, when he soothed me after one of my nightmares.
He was so desperate to get me out of that bathroom…
Even then, he fought my demons for me when I couldn't. I remember the relief on his face when I finally let him, and now, the tears really start to roll down my face.
“True, but you didn’t seem too happy after you left the Attic…” I choke out, desperate to keep the conversation going a little longer while I get my shit together.
“It was a lot to digest, I’ll admit. It took Marla and I a few days to talk everything out, but we just decided to look at it like he’s in the military.
I think it was easier for your mother that way.
” He chuckles again, and I can’t help but reciprocate it—just to cover up the hiccup.
“Our main concerns are that you’re happy, healthy, and safe, Ashia.
Anything past that, we can accept. It might just take some coming around. ”
“You weren’t afraid that I couldn’t handle it?” I ask softly, and I hear him slurp his coffee. Asshole. That sweet asshole. There are a few moments of silence—like he knows, even from miles away, that I just need a moment to breathe before he answers.
“No, and that might have been the hardest part about it all, honestly.”
“What do you mean?”
He chuckles softly, and it actually makes me smile.
“Do you remember the little brat that was in class with you and Serena when you were in high school? She used to tease you about something terrible?”
“Zoey?” I raise an eyebrow. I haven’t thought about that girl in years.
“Yes, that little bitch,” he says so easily, and I laugh again.
Richard is not one to curse normally, but he really did hate that girl.
“She gave you hell since you were in the sixth grade. For years, you just sat aside and let her say whatever she wanted. You never batted an eye. It wasn’t until she picked on Serena that you did something.
The moment you heard her call Serena ‘trash,’ you whooped her ass. ”
“Well, yeah. She had it coming,” I declare through a humorous huff.
“But not until she roped your family into it,” he points out, and I can almost feel his grin through the phone.
“You have always been the one that I didn’t have to worry about.
Not that Serena couldn’t take care of herself, but you just always had the ability to sit back until the time was right.
You have the strength and self-preservation of a survivor.
As unfortunate as it was, you had to. Even now, as an adult, you use those skills every day.
I think you’re much more capable than you realize, and I learned a long time ago that I just had to let you handle life on your own terms. That was going to be the only way you’d continue to survive. ”
I swallow harshly to try and keep any more tears from resurfacing.
Richard has always treated me and Serena differently, but it never felt that way.
He never acted like I was a problem, or someone he needed to keep his real daughter away from like everyone else did.
Now that I think of it, I’m not sure he’s ever yelled at me.
He didn’t try to limit what I wanted to do, and whenever I lived with them, I probably got away with more than I should’ve.
Well, because it was always me chasing Ser around during her shenanigans and keeping her from getting hurt, probably.
He’s always trusted me, just like I’ve always trusted him.
“Can I still tell you anything?”
“Absolutely,” he replies without hesitation.
“We’re going after someone tomorrow—someone who probably knows where Damien is. And to be honest? I’m scared.”
“Scared of him?” he asks disbelievingly, like he doesn’t really think that I am.
“Not necessarily of him, but of what we’ll find, or what I’ll lead everyone into.
So much has gone wrong before, and I just…
” I pause and take a deep breath, needing to ground myself a little more.
“He escaped last time.” He hums softly, like he’s trying to pick out the best response before he speaks.
“Without going into too much detail, do you feel good about your plan?” he asks flatly. I quickly go over things again in my head, and when nothing about our idea raises alarms, I nod to myself.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Why do you feel good about it?”
“It’s not something we normally do. Your comparison to the military isn’t that far off when it comes to our protocols and objectives. We almost always raid or patrol. So, this is different.”
“How so?” he asks with genuine curiosity, telling me that he’s just as serious about this conversation as I am.
“We’re being sneaky and hiding until he comes to us.”
He makes an approving groan, followed by a muffled ‘mhm.’ “So, you’re putting those street-smarts to good use?
” he points out, and I don’t answer him immediately.
“What it sounds like, is you’re afraid of doing it differently than Damien does.
” He might as well have rung a bell in my ear.
The realization crashes into me, and it feels like a punch to the chest. Tears storm my bottom lids again, and I rapidly blink them away.
“Yeah…” I force down a sob.
“Pumpkin, for a man like Damien? If he didn’t trust you enough to make decisions regarding either himself or that organization, he wouldn’t have married you. In my opinion, you’re smart enough to control anyone, much less a small group of men. If you feel good about this, then stick to it.”
“What if I don’t find him? What if it doesn’t lead anywhere?”
“Are you going to stop looking for him if it doesn’t?”
I roll my eyes.
“Of course not,” I answer angrily.
“Then that’s all that matters.”
I turn my back on the trees and look into our dimly-lit bedroom.
The bed looks so large without him in it.
It’s nothing but a sea begging for us to wade on top of it.
Our space is where we can just be, and now it feels as heavy as the air out here.
It’s missing him. When I lay on top of it, I don’t float like I do when he’s beside me.
I just sink, like some other force is trying to pull me down—like something evil is keeping me from him.
“He’s waiting for me…” I whisper.
“He always has been, Ashia. Anyone with eyes can see that. He waited his whole life for you. I promise, he’s going to hold out until you find him again.
You are doing everything you can to bring him home, just as I’m sure he’s doing everything he can to make his way back to you.
Both of you always fight for each other. Don’t let your fear cloud that.”
I nod confidently, even though he can’t see me.
“I know. You’re right…”
“You just be careful, okay? Damien won’t find his escape worthy if you’re hurt. You have your child to think about now, too. Take it from a father with two daughters, life is only worth living if my children are safe,” he proclaims with another slurp of his coffee, and I can’t help but grin.
“I’ll be careful, I promise. If this goes the way we want it to, I won’t need to lift a finger.”
“Good. Call me when you’re back from your field trip, okay?”
I laugh at his attempt to make this situation innocent.
“Yeah, you got it.”
“Love you, pumpkin,” he says so easily, and it was almost everything I needed to hear right now. While my soul craves Damien’s words instead, Richard definitely put a Band-Aid on my wounds for a little while.
“Love you too, Dad.”