"It seems like you've gotten used to living like this now."
He eyes the way her pen glides across the paper. Words in ink slowly filling up the pages of her notebook. One she had newly bought especially for him, because of course, his case had been highly unusual. She seems fake, even now. Previously, before everything that happened on Blackwood Pines, she would barely bat her eyelashes at his words. He had been nothing more than another source of income.
Her interest had suddenly peaked once the press gotten ahold of his story. She had accepted to be interviewed by the local newspaper, and told the media about what a difficult and highly complicated guy he was. As if she cared about him.
'I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"
She sighs at his words, shutting her notebook and plucking her thin glasses from her nose. There's a look of annoyance in her eyes, and while she tries desperately to disguise the expression, Josh reads her like an open book.
"Perhaps not, but still you managed to accept the fact that it happened instead of spiraling into more mental issues."
For once, he agrees with her. He indeed managed to keep himself sane through all the shit people pulled him through. 6 years have passed since the accident, of which 3 years had been a complete nightmare, and the remaining 3 had been full of recovery and happy memories instead of traumas.
He had ups and downs, with both his depression as well as with friends and family. They couldn't pin-point him at times, and had trouble adjusting to his new form, which resulted in heavy fights and hurtful discussions.
There had been one constant element in his life though, and that was you. You had been right by his side when things went wrong, and helped him through every obstacle along the way, rooting from the sidelines and sometimes even helping him on the course itself.
You had been the person that fueled his recovery, not his therapist, and not his doctors. Still, you wanted him to continue meeting up with her. At least so he could get some things off his chest.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" She asks him, noting the way his eyes quickly avert to hers. The twitch of his lips tell her enough, and it has her smile a bit as well.
"How is she?"
"She's doing... good. I think she does, she seems content, happy. Ever since..."
Josh stops talking to think about you, a smile on his features. His therapist writes something down at his reaction, before clicking her pen once more and turning back to Josh.
"Ever since the baby?"
Josh opens the locket around his neck and nods, inspecting the hidden picture of you holding your baby girl, a bright grin on your face.
"She's my world..."
"How is she coming along?"
"Good." Is the only thing Josh wishes to confess, not really feeling like telling her about her rapid growth in the past few days, and her somewhat curious appetite.
She eyes him up and down, nodding before scribbling some more words in her notebook. Josh was an odd case. A truly unique human being, if that's what you could even call him. He had a sense of empathy like no one other, and even through all the trauma he had been through, he still acted like it was all his own fault.
"I think that's all the time we have for now. I'll see you next week."
---------- ------------ ----------
A bus and train ride later, Josh arrives back in front of his apartment. A sigh falls from his lips when finally back in the safety of his own home. He flees inside, not wanting to attract any more attention than he usually does. By now the world knows about him. About what a monster he had become, and why his father was still in prison. His mother was lonely, missing his father's presence around the house, and trying to fill the empty space by constantly asking Josh to come over.
His life would never be easy again, and Josh was aware of that. Getting a job was a task by itself. Luckily, Chris had offered him a job at his own hardware store, so now Josh is fixing phones and laptops at the back of Chris' little shop, out of sight from the customers, and able to work on his own instead. It wasn't his dream job, but it paid the bills. Perhaps some day he could shoot his shot at becoming a director once more... but now was not the time. Paparazzi was still lurking around corners, people still whispered as he passed, and there were still articles in magazines about the phenomenon of his transformation. He will never get used to it, but he has learned to live with it. His phone burning red at all times because people wanted to interview him. Kids turning up at his front door to see the monster up close, and the worst thing, not being able to get his daughter into a public school because of his record.
But to create a shadow, there must be light, and as he enters his house he's reminded of the bright things in his life. the smell of his favorite dish already lifts his mood, and he follows the scent, which comes from the kitchen. As he turns the corner, he's met by a sight he'll never get used to.
You, busy in the kitchen while humming a tune to the little girl seated in her high chair at the kitchen counter, happily giggling at whatever noise you make. She looks like you, eyes sparkly and hair the same shade as yours. He smiles, and enters fully now, which catches both your as well as your baby's attention. At the sight of Josh you grin, and point towards him with a wooden spoon.
"It was your turn to cook, Washington, but yet, the fridge was empty as I got home." He knows you're not really mad, and he chuckles at your accusation, grabbing the spoon from your grip and placing it on the counter.
"I'm sorry, my appointment suddenly changed so i had no time to get groceries. I'll take you out at the end of the week though..."
You hum at his explanation, cutting a piece of cooked chicken into cubes, before placing a few pieces on a plastic plate, and offering them to the little one.
"It's fine, Josh. I was planning on making this anyway. ___ likes the chicken."
Josh averts his attention towards his daughter, crouching next to her chair, and running a palm over her fuzzy head.
"Hello, princess..." He whispers, and watches as she grabs a piece of meat and happily starts eating it.
Josh had wished for her to become normal. Not to inherit any physical trait from him, but she ended up with his teeth nonetheless. A mixed row of teeth that switched from sharp canines, to normal human teeth. It hurt her at first, of course she had no idea how to use them, which resulted in bleeding gums, and sleepless night, which ended up with more crying. However, at some point she taught herself to be careful with them, and her appetite grew as she learned to eat with them.
He eyes the way she gnaws on the piece of chicken, and concern tugs at his features as she flinches when biting on her tongue. A small drop of blood mixes with saliva, and soon enough fat tears roll down her chubby cheeks. Josh lifts her up, holds her in his arms and rocks her until the wailing ceases, shushing her gently and placing pecks on her cheek.
You place your apron on the counter, and walk over to them, grabbing her from Josh' arms and placing her on your hip.
"I told you to be careful, honey... Let's get you a drink."
Yes, Josh was in a weird, but functional family. With a wife that seemed too good to be true, and a little daughter that was the most precious thing in his life right now.
His life wasn't perfect, but he never desired it to be, because even when things got hard, there was always something or someone there that could make him get through it. That person could be you, your baby, his mother or his friends.
A perfect life didn't exist, but this was good enough for Josh to consider it perfect on his own conditions.
"Josh, baby, are you okay?"
You snap him out of his thoughts, placing a hand on his cheek and running your thumb over his cheekbone in silent act of concern. Josh smiles, grabs the hand and puts it against it lips.
"Can I ask you something?"
You smile and nod, holding your now silent daughter protectively against your chest. Josh places his hand on her back and rubs gently, which has her sighing and closing her eyes.
"Did you ever regret coming along on the trip?" Josh questions, because even if it had been 6 years, the thoughts, the memories and the traumas would never fade. Yet, your answer is completely honest, and only holds truth.
"No. I don't regret a thing that happened if it meant getting me till this point. I'm happy, content, and that's all I ever asked for. Someday, I wish you could be too, Josh. Of course, I never wanted this to happen to you, but I wish someday you can see past your actions and be happy with yourself despite what happened."
Josh smiles brightly at your answer, and leans down to kiss you on the lips. He lingers for a few seconds, before pulling back and cupping your cheek.
"I love you, ___-"
He's interrupted by the doorbell, and a groan slips past your lips. You give your daughter to Josh, before wiping your hands on the rag and rushing towards the door.
"If it's those kids again, I'm seriously getting authorities into this."
He hears you open the door, but ignores whatever conversation starts. He places the baby into her chair, and plays with her hands until you return. However, as you return you don't complain about whoever disrupted your evening, instead you place your hands on Josh' shoulders. He glances back at you, and meets your calm face.
"Josh, there's someone at the door who needs to see you."
He's confused by the lack of information you give him, and he raises his eyebrows at your vague sentence. You just blink at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips that tells him it's important.
He nods, and slowly makes his way towards the door. You quietly follow, your daughter in your arms, because something tells you it's important that she's there.
Josh finally enters the hallway, and standing in the doorway is a long slim woman with strong features. She has prominent cheekbones, thin lips and natural hair in a tight bun, complimented by a pair of striking green eyes. Next to her a boy, who can't be older than 12 with dark brown curls and white cloudy eyes that stand out against his dark skin. Clamped between his palms a white cane.
As Josh looks at his firm grip on the object he can see a sharp set of claws.
"Mister Washington?" He calls out, and his eyes seem to search into nothingness for his presence. Josh, still astonished by the boys looks, hums at his words, acknowledging that the kid is blind.
"Yes..."
At the sound of his voice, the boys face beams and his hands searches the sleeve of his mother's coat, before tugging on it.
"What does he look like?" He whispers to her with excitement, but the woman seems hesitant to answer. Instead Josh crouches down, eyes still stuck on the boy's and inspecting their fogginess. He grabs the boys hand, and places it on his cheek, right onto the tear just below his eye. The boy runs his hand over the broken skin, feeling his sharp teeth against the tips of his fingers.
A bright grin appears on the boys face which reveals the row of sharp teeth hidden behind his lips. He turns his head up towards his mother.
"See, I told you I wasn't the only one."
The End.