The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

31...

"James is my father. What if you think I mislead you? What if you think I knew all along? What if he was using me to make you feel safe? What if I'm a terrible person too, and I deserve to lose you?" the words gushed out of her with a dozen salty tears and she gasped for breath, unable to say anything else.

"I'm not angry, because I know why James didn't kill me," I told her, wishing I understood why she thought I blamed her for anything. How could I? After everything she had done for me, how could she think I would be upset with her for things that James had done?

Her brown eyes widened substantially as she stared at me. "What are you talking about? He didn't kill you yet, Roy. He's still going to try—don't you understand that?"

I shook my head. "No, he won't, Lisa."

"You don't know him like I do. I'm his daughter. I know what sort of person he is." She insisted.

"He let me out. He brought me to you. He broke the rules. James doesn't break the rules, Lisa," I said the words very quickly, my excitement growing more with each passing second.

"What are you saying, Roy?" she asked the question in a very small voice.

"He didn't kill me. Because he cares about me."

There. I said it.

My eyes wide with anticipation, I waited for Lisa to say something. When she didn't, I started to get nervous. More nervous than I had been before, when I realized she was crying. I wanted to know what she was thinking, and why she wasn't saying anything.

She turned away from me quickly, and I couldn't even see her face.

"Lisa?" I said her name softly, not wanting to upset her further. She didn't answer.

"After everything...you're still looking for the human in him, aren't you?" she was talking very quietly and I almost couldn't hear what she was saying. "There is nothing he could do to you that would make you hate him, is there?"

"You said I was worth caring for," I whispered. "Do you care about me?"

"Yes," she answered quickly, nodding.

"Then why can't James care about me too?"

When Lisa turned, I saw a deep sadness in her eyes. "He doesn't care about anyone but himself, Roy."

"But he—he broke the rules for me, Lisa," I insisted.

She shook her head. "He did it for himself."

"No," my chin quivered. I clenched my jaw to stop it. "James does care about me, he does," I said, wanting her to believe it as much as I had a moment ago.

"I wish he did," she uttered softly, wrapping her arms around my waist and placing her head against my chest. I looked away from her, at the ceiling, the floor, the walls—anything but her. "He doesn't care about you. Or me. Or anyone." She held me tighter.

"But—why?" the words escaped my throat in a mangled breath as I failed to hold back the waves of emotion piercing my lungs.

I wanted to understand. I wanted to know. Why didn't James care about me? Was it because of all the times I had broken the rules? Was it because I hadn't always responded fast enough to his orders? Was it because he had always hated me? Was there anything that I could have done to make him care, like Lisa did?

"Why do you care about me?" I asked her suddenly.

"You can't compare me to him, Roy," Lisa replied sadly. "We aren't the same. My reasons can't be his. You won't understand it, so don't torture yourself."