Page 6 of Zade (Den of Sin)

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and leans in and whispers, “Curiosity killed the cat, baby girl.”

I tilt my head back and meet his eyes with my own, both of us wearing an intense expression, “Are you thinking about my pussy, Daddy?”

His expression says it all. Amira one, Zade zero.

Stepping back like he touched a hot fire he growls, “Behave. I was not thinking about your pussy. You’re my stepdaughter and that would be inappropriate.”

I grin because he and I both know, he’s thinking about it. He may not have been before but he is now.

“Dinner will be at six. I expect you to be in the dining room on time,” he says as he rushes out of the room like a bomb will explode at any minute.

ChapterThree

AMIRA

I sit on the bed with a slight smile on my face, messing with Zade might be my new favorite hobby. Then my mom flashes through my mind and my smile disappears. I can’t believe she’s gone. This morning it was much of the same as I got ready to leave for school. I force fed her the stupid antidepressants that never seemed to do a damn thing. If only I had known what she was going to do. I never would’ve left. I shouldn’t have. I knew she was doing worse than before she went to the hospital the last time. Why didn’t I skip school like I’ve done so many times? The emotions are overwhelming, guilt, anger, sadness, and emptiness. The worst part though are the moments of relief. Clearly there’s something wrong with me if even for a second I feel relieved that she’s gone.

She may not have been mother of the year despite that, she was my mom. I wanted to save her from her demons but I couldn’t. I tried everything to get her to snap out of it but I guess depression doesn’t work that way. Why did it have to be this way? My mom was diagnosed with Clinical Depression with Psychosis. There was no traumatic reason for her condition.

I was a kid and didn’t really understand. Everybody wants to live, right? Nobody actually chooses to die. This was my crash course in mental health issues. Through the years, my mom attempted suicide seven times before today.

Whenever I spoke with her doctors, they stressed how important it was for her to take the medication even if she thought it wasn’t working or didn’t need it.

Between nine to twelve years old, Zade was my saving grace. He took care of mom and me like a saint. He cooked every meal, never missed a single dance recital of mine, on top of taking care of everything financially. He became everything to me until one fateful day. I came home from my best friend, Cyndi’s house and found my mom sitting in the kitchen drinking her weight in Tequila.

“Where’s Zade?”

“Gone.”

I eyed her curiously, “At work you mean?”

She shrugged, “He left. He’s not coming back.”

I never found out what happened and why he suddenly disappeared from our lives. So the question is why did he come for me, now? Why did he bring me into his home like he cares?

I tuck my legs underneath me as I sit on the bed and let the tears fall.

ChapterFour

ZADE

I wait until quarter after six before getting seriously annoyed with Amira. Can she do nothing that she’s fucking told to do? I know she’s not used to being held accountable for her choices but that ends now. I storm up the stairs, “Goddamn it Amira!” I walk into her bedroom ready to give her hell until I find her laying in the fetal position, and sobbing. Her sassy behavior had me almost forgetting what she’s been through not only today but for the last several years. It’s not until right now that I realize how broken she must be. As I step closer to her, I move slowly, as if I’m approaching a wild animal. The desire to take away her pain is overwhelming but I don’t want to make things worse. Watching her crumble is devastating and feels like it’s my own physical pain. I sit on her bed and pull her into my arms, and hold her while she cries, the sobs causing her body to tremble, “I’m sorry.”

I’m not used to emotions, if I’m honest I have no fucking clue how to handle this situation. Amira presses her face into my chest, wraps her arms around my waist and sobs. Watching her fall apart like this makes my chest tight. I hate that her mother did this to her. Holding her tightly, I murmur, “It’s going to be okay.”

Pulling her head from my chest she gazes into my face, “What if it’s not, Zade?”

I stare back at her but I don’t understand what she’s asking me, “Explain, baby girl.”

The sadness in her expression makes me feel things I was not prepared for, “What if I’m like her and end up lost like that? Maybe I’ll end my life too.”

Bringing my hands to her face, I cup her cheeks, and stare into her eyes with a stern glare, “If you feel you’re depressed you come to me. I will get you help. I won’t lose you twice.”

While she doesn’t say it, I already know what she’s thinking. I tried to get her mom help too and look how that turned out. The heartbreak on Amira’s face crushes me, I feel responsible even though, deep down, I am aware there was nothing I could do to prevent this. Any positive feelings I had for my ex-wife died long before she did but I never wished for this. I’m disappointed, sad for Amira, but not surprised. This is exactly why my buddy Jack Dale, who is a detective, knew to contact me when this call came in. It wasn’t an ‘if’ more of a ‘when.’ The fact is I knew she’d eventually kill herself, either by suicide or drugs. I wonder if Amira knows about the drug use but I won’t bring it up if she doesn’t. She hates me for leaving even though she has no clue I didn’t leave by choice. It wouldn’t take much to push her further away so I know I need to tread carefully, for now.

On a beautiful Thursday afternoon I came home from work excited to take Amira to her softball game. I walk into the house to find Chelsea waiting for me at the kitchen table with a stack of papers.

“Where is Amira?”

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