Page 30 of Atlas Uncharted

Ashlen turned her head slowly, her eyes locking onto mine with a hollow stare that sent a shiver down my spine. “What’s the point? Nothing is working out for me. This isn’t the life I wanted,” she whispered.

I bit back the words I wanted to say, took a deep breath, and walked out of the room, leaving Ashlen in her self-imposed darkness.

Once I was in the hallway, I pulled out my phone and called Davis. His voice calmed my frayed nerves, and I let out a long sigh. “She’s driving me crazy, Davis,” I admitted, my voice trembling with frustration. “She won’t eat, won’t do anything, and Atlas just won’t help.”

I made my way to my temporary bedroom.

“Do you want me to come down there? I can be there in a few days,” Davis offered. “But in the meantime, maybe you should take a break. Go see your father and your son. It’ll make you feel better.”

I was about to respond when I noticed Ashlen standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable. “I have to go,” I whispered into the phone. “I’ll call you back.” I hung up and turned to face Ashlen, who had stepped into the room.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft but strained. “I know I’ve been difficult... But I know how to fix this, unless... I need you to do me a favor, Kairi.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “What is it?”

Ashlen hesitated, wringing her hands together before she spoke. “I want you to have sex with Atlas and give him a baby.”

When my brain processed the words, I jumped up from the bed, my heart pounding in my chest. “Wait, what?”

“I saw how you looked at him back in school. How he was always so protective of you. Y'all had chemistry. Y'all wanted each other. You can do it now with my permission. Then after the baby, you just disappear again."

I shook my head. “You’re out of your mind,” I snapped, taking a step back. This bitch was crazy.

“Please, Kairi,” Ashlen begged, her voice cracking. “He’s going to leave me if I don’t give him a baby. Nobody else wants me now. You can do this for me. I’ve always been there for you—like when your mother died. I was there for you. When your father shut down, I was there.”

My blood ran cold. Guilt was a mighty motivator, but I wasn’t going for it this time. “Ashlen, you wouldn’t be giving him a baby—I would be. I’m not doing it.”

Her face twisted. “You owe me this.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, a distraction from the madness unfolding in front of me. I ignored it, too enraged to think straight. What in the fuck was wrong with her? “You don’t get to use my mother’s death to manipulate me,” I spat, my voice trembling with anger. “I came here to help you, but I won’t destroy myself to save what’s left of you."

The phone buzzed again, and this time I yanked it out of my pocket. It was my father calling, and I answered it with a shaking hand. “Dad?” I said, my voice still rough with emotion.

“Kairi, it’s... it’s Shirley. She had a heart attack. We’re at the hospital.”

My heart sank, the anger draining out of me. “I’ll be there,” I whispered, hanging up the phone. I grabbed my bag, my mind racing as I made my way to the door.

Ashlen’s voice stopped me. “Where are you going?” she asked, her tone accusatory.

I didn’t look back. “My father’s girlfriend had a heart attack. I’m going to the hospital.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked out the door, my thoughts were a tangled mess as I hurried to my rental car. The drive to the hospital was a forty-five-minute blur, my mind stuck in a loop. When I arrived, I rushed inside, following the nurse’s directions to the waiting room.

The first person I saw—Atlas, sitting in a chair, his face buried in his hands. My heart skipped a beat as I walked over to him. “Atlas, what are you doing here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Atlas looked up, his eyes red and swollen. “The woman who raised me... she had a heart attack,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I felt the ground shift beneath me. “Ms. Shirley?”

He nodded.

My father’s girlfriend was the woman who raised Atlas. It was all too much. Before I could say anything else, I heard Dion cry for me, “Mommy!”

I turned just in time to see my son toddling toward me, his little arms outstretched. I scooped him up when he made it to me.

Atlas watched us, his expression unreadable as he took in Dion from head to toe. Dion looked like me, but with curly hair, light hazel eyes, and skin the color of muted brown.

Atlas’s voice cracked when he asked, "How old is he?"

---