Clark- Chapter Eleven
I closed my phone after reading an article from Cove City Press that a commune was found with over fifty dead people.
It had to be the Tyrant who did it. Stopping him seemed much harder than I expected.
He was a true animal who somehow knew how to navigate the streets better than I thought.
I knew I had come too far to turn back now, so the only option I had left if Jungle did not pull through was to face him myself.
However, I wasn’t going to go walking into the fire.
Oftentimes, I waited for some sort of remorse for my actions, for a morsel of regret, but there was none.
Today, however, the idea of feeling loved was one I craved.
Today was supposed to be special, filled with smiles, appreciation, and family.
Here I was, sitting on the sidelines of a cemetery, so desperate for the feeling that I decided to visit my family who were rooted beneath the dirt.
It was Father’s Day, a day I had, at one point, waited for.
It was the one day that was given to men, although the world saw many of us as vessels.
We didn’t get the same sort of appreciation or respect women got on Mother’s Day.
I learned from the way my mother did my father and understood the year Grace was born, so instead of making this an all-inclusive visit, this was strictly for my father.
I had no words for my mother because what was there to say?
It was my father who wasn’t appreciated in the capacity he should have been.
It was he who wasn’t given a fair chance after being met with cancer. It was his legacy that needed saving.
The walk to his grave felt heavy, my feet felt weighted, my soul started to feel leaden, and my mind began to drift. When I finally reached him, the spot was almost unnoticeable as weeds and overgrown grass covered him. He was drowning with the earth just as I was.
“Dad,” I called out as if he would respond.
This was the first time I had visited him in years. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I felt alone or because coming to a place like this was me speaking things into my life.
“I tried being as you were, but something in me is different. I feel this sense of power, the power you were supposed to have. It runs through my veins.”
I waited for a response, although I knew the dead couldn’t speak. Maybe it was why I felt like death posed a better option than those who thought they were more in control than I was. Like the Tyrant, who ran rampant like this was his world, as if Lake Hill was his.
“I built that city—” I pointed out into the open, “—the place where he and his animals found comfort.”
I kneeled to clean the overgrown weeds as I continued to speak.
“The cancer was supposed to kill him. Grace was supposed to forget, and somehow her dreams and prayers that her son would be here came true. Dad—” I paused.
“All I wanted to do was make you proud, and everything I’ve done has been for the Mercier legacy.
If I don’t do something, your legacy will die. ”
I knew the words were merely for me and not him. My words were a way of building power inside me. “You had no control. You, Dad, had no power and allowed those people to run you to your grave. You gave up, but I won’t.”
I was now about to allow my intrusive thoughts to take their course. I bowed my head before stepping away from my father’s grave.
“Happy Father’s Day,” I muttered.