Page 19 of The Danger Kiss

I bought a few rice cakes from the kind woman and began to eat as I made my way through the market, contemplating my next move.

I considered the possibility of going to a hostel, where I could probably convince a group of fighters that I was one of them, and then they probably would give me sufficient space on the floor to sleep on. But my body does not respond well to physical proximity.

I sighed, pulling my bag to a better position as it rested awkwardly against the side of my body. My muscles were beginning to ache. I knew I wasn’t used to traveling for days on end, much less moving around a city.

Then it struck me.

Like a thunderbolt on all my senses, I saw him.

It could be no other person than him.

Dalek.

My heart skipped a beat as I spotted him in the crowd, his silhouette barely unchanged after fifteen long years. He looked almost the same as he had when I first saw him. He was the same lean, wiry man, with short-cropped black hair that lay flat against his head like a raven's feathers.

He must be in his forties by now. Time seemed to have treated him kindly.

I stood rooted to my corner spot, between bites of rice cake, my emotions swirling around me like a raging tempest: relief at having found him, anger at his sudden disappearance, and a sense of being laid bare if I had to face him again.

Through the years, I had moved from one emotion to the next: anger, sadness, yearning, regret, and back again.

Up until now, I still don’t know how to feel.

Even if Dalek was standing across the market from me.

I could feel the weight of our shared history—our secrets and our pain—pressing down upon me, threatening to crush me beneath its suffocating burden.

I heard his voice from across the crowd, as if he spoke them next to my ear. “Blanca, is that you?”

It was gentler than I remembered, but somehow deeper and more measured with time.

I struggled to maintain my composure, my throat constricting as I attempted to find the words to respond.

Was I meant to confront him about the abandonment that had left me feeling so lost and alone? Or should I maintain my distance, preserving what little dignity remained after fifteen years?

He was standing in front of me before a decision was made.

Instead, I found myself staring into his eyes, as brown and as comforting in real life as they were in memory.

"Hello, Dalek," I managed, my voice wavering only slightly. "It's been a while."

“Indeed,” he replied softly, his eyes searching my face. “You have grown up, but you are still the little Blanca I could remember.”

I could see the surprise, concern, and lingering affection in his gaze, but I forced myself to remain stoic, unwilling to let him see how much he still affected me.

I had to admit, I was still angry. Anger I can deal with it. It didn’t pretend to be something else.

I took a deep breath before I launched into myself into the words that I have been planning to say to him for years. "Where have you been, Dalek? I searched for you throughout the city, but it was as if you had vanished into thin air."

He didn’t respond. Instead, he put a hand on my arm and gently steered me into the shadows of an empty stall. As soon as I could get my bearings back from being touched by someone, especially Dalek, I pulled my arm out of his grasp.

“Blanca, I never intended to leave you like that. I had my reasons, but I understand if you can't forgive me. Just know that I've always cared for you."

His words hung in the air between us, the tension almost alive and thicker than the humidity coming in from the nearby sea. It felt as though the entire market had fallen silent, the world around us fading away until all that remained was the unspoken words that lingered between us.

“Cared for me? I was twelve years old, Dalek. You left me alone at the Diesel Dome without a single fucking word.”

The memories, unbidden and unstoppable, now came flashing back.

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