Interim; Lacuna

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"True reconciliation is never cheap, for it is based on forgiveness which is costly. Forgiveness in turn depends on repentance, which has to be based on an acknowledgment of what was done wrong, and therefore on disclosure of the truth. You cannot forgive what you do not know." ~Desmond Tutu


He had steak for the first time in years at the infamous pops diner. Steak. He closed his eyes and savored every bite, chewing every bit of it to the last atom. The world could end now and he wouldn't care. He was having the best meal that his palate hasn't tasted in over eight years and he didn't care if it was the Armageddon or a replay of Doomsday, all he knew was his taste buds were leaping for joy. The food was way better than what they served in there. In there, all he had the pleasure of eating was spoiled mashed potatoes and sick looking pieces of chicken, fried to a pitiful crisp. To top it all off, he had to eat with a bunch of klutz and lummoxes who gobbled down every food item including the crumbs from the plates of the power crazed idiots.

"Would you like anything else?" Her voice flowed into his ears and his cutlery dropped to his plate with a clang. He looked away shielding his face with the faded hoodie. He didn't want her to see his face.

There was a high chance that she wouldn't be able to recognize him with how much he had changed, how much weight he had lost, how wrinkles had dominated his skin, how his sunken eyes kept retreating back in its sockets from craving his addiction and how his mustache had turned grey over the years. He turned down her inquiry with a shake of his head and she walked away to another table. He stole a quick glance at her and looked back at his plate. She, on the other hand, had grown so much. She had grown little curves that added a feminine tinge to her appearance. She had long blonde hair that cascaded down her back and her voice commanded attention from anyone who dared to listen.

He finished off his food and dropped a crumpled dollar bill on the table. He waited for her to return to the inner kitchenette before taking his leave. He didn't want her to get the slightest idea that he was back. He had been out for only a few weeks and he couldn't afford going back in there. And he could bet on the grave of his wife-beating father and alcoholic mother that she wouldn't hesitate to send him back there if he ever showed his face to her. I mean, he killed her mother.

He stepped out of the diner and walked down the street to the rickety car he had gotten from his old time friend as an out-of-jail present. His friend had given him some money and a bunch of his old clothes, but all he had failed to offer him was what he needed the most—a place to stay. He had asked his friend to help him find his daughter and it wasn't that difficult a task to get her new location; Shadow creek. The town was small, smaller than where he had raised her and he didn't see her as a small town lady. It wasn't hard finding her house. All he had to do was wave at a few old people, asking them if anyone moved to town recently and where they lived.

He drove down to her house and parked the car further a bit from her driveway to avoid suspicions. He sat in the car for a bit and observed the surrounding for any movement and when all was clear, he jogged up to the porch dragging his hoodie to hide his identity. His bony hands fumbled with the lock for a bit and it gave way. As a soldier, he had learned a couple of skills, both mission inclined and random dexterous activities.

He stepped in and took off his boots at the door, leaving only his socks. He had observed her for a week, watched the time she left for work, when she got off work, days she went grocery shopping, what she did asides waiting tables, places she visited other than the diner and what time the light in her bedroom went off. He had surveyed her house and had observed her neighbors. The closest house to hers was a few blocks down the road. Not a lot of people lived in this side of town and it was of great advantage to his stealth. He went into her room and ran his hands across her brown polished dressing table. His eyes fell on the heart shaped bottle and he picked up her cologne, spraying a few droplets in the air waving his hands to himself to take in the smell. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Her scent. He wanted to get a whiff of it.

He took off his dirty clothes and went into her bathroom. He took a shower using her bathing essentials and even wrapped himself in her bathrobe. It was the best and first shower he had in a long time and he cherished every moment like it was his last. It could be his last.

He put on fresh clothes from the satchel he carried with him and made sure everything was in place before returning to the living area. He went into the kitchen space and poured himself a warmed cup of coffee taking it into the sitting room. He turned on the TV set and relaxed in the chair. To him, he was in his space, his home. He didn't care if it was all an illusion or mirage. He would never be taken back with open arms and he knew it. She would never accept him. It would take a miracle for him to escape her wrath if she finds out he was still alive and breathing. He wished he had killed her just as he did her mother and he knew he could do it easily and get away with it. But she had grown so much, so much that he couldn't think of hurting her. No matter what, she was still his daughter. Love trumps hate.

His eyelids seemed to have magnetic properties embedded in their layers and they forced a meeting of both layers. He stood up from the chair after switching off the tv before returning his cup to the counter. He picked up his satchel and looked round one last time before leaving the house. He knew better than the leave the use cup on the table. She could go to the police and file a case of breaking and entering and the cup could be taken in as evidence and swabbed for DNA. But he knew her and he knew she wouldn't do it. She would deny the fact that she was being followed and she would keep the information to herself for fear of getting harmed.

She was his daughter after all...
A/N: Hey, lovelies! What's good? It's been a while and this chapter is titled "Lacuna" meaning missing part or a blank gap. Lol, I just think the word is fancy so I used it. This chapter is an unknown POV but we all know who the anonymous person is now.

What do you think is going to happen once she finds out her greatest nemesis is back and even worse, gains entrance into her personal space at his convenience?

What do you think of him; a changed father who wants to get back with his daughter or the same ol' sonovabitch who killed her mother and would finish her off too if he had the chance?

Let's hear it! Ciao, lovelies. 💋

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