Daughter of Zeus ✔

20.5

Ignoring the understanding in Shylar's eyes, Darcy thought back to her childhood, thought back to a few months ago, and there were times when her father's proximity warranted awkward feelings. One instance stood out more than the rest, when she was twelve years old. She had exited the shower and forgotten to close her bedroom door. A towel was wrapped around her hips and around her head, but her chest was exposed. Her father walked past her open door. Instead of continuing on his way or closing the door, he went inside the bedroom. Immediately, she covered herself with her arms.

"Dad, get out!" she squawked.

He beamed. "You're growing up, I know, but you'll always be my little girl."

And he took her unyielding body in for a tight hug. She didn't reciprocate the affection because her arms were occupied in preserving her modesty. The hug lingered for minutes, with him stroking his hand up and down her back, and she was extremely confused. Finally, he released her and left the room, the same smile still on his face.

She slammed the door shut after he left. She sat on the bed and wiped herself with her hair towel, over and over. Days, weeks, and years later, she had forced herself to categorize the incident as a minor one. After hearing her father's actions toward Ada, the incident did not seem minor anymore.

Darcy thought she was lucky he had chosen to leave her bedroom that day.

"Oh my god."

Large tears formed and fell as she absorbed the enormity of what her father was capable of. Through the disgust and sadness, she couldn't rid herself of love for him. It was even greater than it had been in the past because of how he seemed to change for the better.

"But he's different now. He would never..."

"You're right," Shylar said. "He is different now. But Ada doesn't see it that way. Yet. As you can imagine, it's going to take time."

~*~

Darcy nodded, cried and nodded. Shylar would lose her to grief if he didn't move things along. Her eyes were glazing over with comprehension; the father she thought she knew had been a monster.

To get her on board with his plan, Shylar had to make her understand the old Moretz was gone and would never hurt anyone again. It took nearly an hour, but she learned more about her grandfather's abilities and what it meant for Moretz.

"You." She stared at Shylar with new eyes. "You used to be an IT, Ada told me. Grandpa changed you like he changed my dad, didn't he?"

"I—" Shylar didn't know what to say.

He couldn't remember his life from before, only shadows came through at odd moments, like when he was zipping up his pants, he thought about his old apartment. Yes, the place was filled with stolen goods, but books too. He loved to collect really old—as the kids called them these days—or banned tomes. His other life belonged to someone else now. He couldn't remember not caring about others, not wanting to protect others.

Yet, there was more than his life than Atlanta. He hadn't been born here, he knew that, but he couldn't remember what his mother looked like or the name of his street growing up. His entire childhood was a hazy cloud of misinformation.

"My father may have been a horrible person, but he's good now, like you are. He doesn't deserve to die. Even the previous version of him didn't deserve what he's probably going through now. We have to get him out."

He admired the maturity of her summations. "Is that what you and Ada were fighting about?"

She nodded. "Ada doesn't want to help me, and I can't get him out by myself."

"I'll help you."