Party, Party

Chapter 42: I'm Not Him

The latest comments and feedback I've received have really rekindled my love for this story😚😚 I'm not one to absolutely rely on the approval of others, but it's really empowering to hear the ups and downs of what I'm doing 💪🏻

~Silver
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My new post is now the furthest away from everyone else—and to be honest I was more than fine with that. Not one of the crew dared approach me as I sat hunched on the tallest sail of the ship, brooding away at my shitty life choices.

The sea breeze seemed to be the only thing that could calm my fever, as well as provide some relief from the constant need to throw up what I'd eaten minutes before.

Once again, Atlas was proving to be the main cause of all the misery in my life. And to my hatred so was I.

"Althea, what do you think you're doing?" I call out, eyes plastered on the dim purple light that glows behind the sail to my left. "Come out, I know you want to talk."

The little girl, in all her metal glory, unveils herself from behind the thick white sail, hovering mid air with a look of nervousness before planting her butt on top of the opposite mast.

She's silent for a while, as if trying to collect all the questions in her head before deciding which one would be the best to ask first.

"You slept with my brother?"

Really. Really?

I shrug. "Yeah. I did."

"And now your going to have his baby."

"No, I don't think so." I grimace, the words sounding more cold than when I'd processed them in my brain. "Althea, I'm not ready to have children. I don't think I'll ever be. If you missed the memo from last night I'm a wanted criminal."

"So is my brother. You could raise your baby together."

"No!" I belt out, probably with much more force than I should have. I lurch backwards, the sickness arising again. "Atlas can't find out about it. He'll kill it."

"Isn't that what you're going to do anyway?"

I let the child's words sink in.

Lying one palm over my stomach, thoughts that I hadn't even considered possibilities begin to filter into my head. What if, by some damn astronomical chance, could give this child a normal life.

But normal was something that would never follow me around.

I'm a criminal. A murderer. How on Stellarum could I be expected to raise a kid? Up until a couple years ago I could barely take care of myself. What if-?

"You're overthinking it, Deam."

Althea's use of my true name brings me out of my repetitive stupor. Her eyes have calmed to their normal viper greens as she stares at me intently, watching my body's every movement.

"My mother wasn't cut out for children either. She was all bipolar, you know? One minute she was praising my brother and the next minute she was beating him half to death."