Dalaric

Thirteen: "𝙈𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙣."

I shouldn't be so selfish.

"He should be on the way now, don't, I repeat, don't open the door for anyone." Rafael turns to leave before I nod and wave goodbye. He turns around right when he opens the door and smirks at me,

"Oh, and thank you for cracking the firewall, smarty." He laughs as my face turns red. They know? Of course they know, idiot ! They're trained assassins.

What do I tell Dalaric? Will he put me in jail- oh no, will he kill me with those mini, yet really cute, syringes. Will he feed me to Landon- I shake those thoughts away. He would never do that. My kisses are too good. I'll just bribe him. Yes, bribery. Perfect.

After my plan to survive, I send a worried glance to the black dot above the kitchen table. I feel like that's a camera. It probably is. I wave slowly, at whoever's behind it , and give it a thumbs up so it doesn't tell on me.

I mean, it already did. I didn't expect for them to find out about the whole hacking thing. It was something I picked up when I spent hours at the café during a time where mama's PTSD episodes were really bad.

Jim would let me use it for homework and I did about ten courses on code. Eventually, I got the hang of it and accidentally hacked my school's website. They used a really bad picture of me on one of the pages. It's not there anymore since I accidentally removed it.

My stupid curiosity made me pick up the laptop. Rafael seemed stressed over it and if there was anyway someone as dumb as me could do it, I might as well try. Shay told me I'm not talented enough to get into an IT College. She's probably right. I hope Dalaric's not mad.

After about an hour of watching a channel which shows predatory animals hunting for food, the door clicks open. My smile automatically widens as I hop my way to the entrance, ready to greet him with a big fat hug.

That smile soon falls.

Especially when I see a pool of dark red blood. Dalarics eyes widen, as if he wasn't expecting me to be here. He moves backwards, hiding something from me. I feel tears building up as I take in his appearance. There's a dried scab on his head and a few on his jaw but he still looks perfect.

Except for the knife in his side. I shut my eyes and shake my head, throwing away any flashbacks that threaten to return.

Maybe.. maybe it's not a knife.

"I-is that a-a knife ?" Dalaric shakes his head slowly, noticing my tears and pained expression as I take small steps backwards.

My eyes struggle to come to terms with what's reality and what isn't. Heaps of air enter my mouth but don't make it any easier for me.

Especially when the flashbacks return.

"D-ad, wh-what are you cutting?"

Dada looks at me with pained eyes, all the knives we own laid out on the kitchen counter.

He doesn't look like my dada. His eyes, they seem lost as if he's not mentally here. His looks straight ahead , never meeting my gaze once as I walk slowly towards him, clutching my stuffie, Mr.Jones in my hands.

"Da-Dad?"

He continues looking forward, his fingers trail over each knife, choosing. My eyes follow his movements, small tears escaping from their captive ducts and making their way down my cheeks, leaving trails of sadness and fear.

His hand stops. It's a knife with a wooden handle. We bought it at a garage sale. What is he cutting ? I look around for any food but I don't see anything except the multitude of sharp cutlery.