Slated

Chapter 13

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"Are you sure you don't want some tea?" Dad asks.

"I'm fine, really," I say, and back towards the door.

"I didn't mean to frighten you."  He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks very tired, like he hasn't slept since he left yesterday. Rumpled like he hasn't changed, either, but the black trousers and pullover he wears are not what he had on when he left for the pub.

For one so tired he moved very fast. Across the room, his hand had clamped swiftly over my mouth, stopping the scream that was working its way up my throat, so all that came out was a small strangled whimper.

He released me as soon as I stopped struggling. Once the dazzle left my eyes enough to see that it was him.

Now he seems to be thinking something over, then nods to himself.

"Sit," he says, and puts two cups next to the kettle.

I sit.

He makes tea, unhurried. Glances at me now and then. For one normally so talkative, the silence stretches around us.

"I am curious about a few things," he finally says.

"Like what?"

"First of all, why were you up?"

I shrug.  "I couldn't sleep."

He stirs his tea, seems about to ask something else, then shakes his head slightly.

"I see. Second question: why did you come downstairs?"

"I was looking for Sebastian."

He seems to consider this answer, then nods.

"Third: why were you so scared when I turned on the light."  He says it like a statement, not a question; one that he is trying to figure out.

"I don't know. You startled me," I answer, truthfully. Though maybe it had something to do with my dream: when I'm dazzled by the light, and can't see who it is, and...

"Speak what you just thought," he says, and I jump.

"In my nightmare last week, a light shines in my eyes and I can't see, and I'm really scared. I think that might be why,".I say, all in a rush. Surprised to hear my voice answering the question, about the dream I'd told everyone else I couldn't remember.

"You blacked out then, didn't you."

I nod.

"Yet, despite a fright just now, however silly, you're not even low."

"No."

My Levo is a quite contented 5.1.

"Interesting," he says. Pauses, then smiles his usual happy smile. "Go to bed, Kyla. Aren't you starting school tomorrow? You must get some rest."

I dash upstairs, both relieved and confused; tea left untouched. What was that about? I'd almost felt like I was being interrogated. And I answered his questions more than I would have thought possible; almost felt compelled to do so. Nearly even told him about having my fingers smashed in my nightmare.

But for some reason I held that back. And I got the distinctly unpleasant feeling, that somehow, he knew I didn't tell him everything. And despite his smile, he wasn't happy about it.