Page 50 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
The frustration and bargaining are back. I’m glad it worked but why isn’t he waking up? He looks runway ready but still won’t wake.
Exhausted, I dropped into my chair, feeling the burn of tears surfacing.
Why was I doing this?
Because I love him. Even if he never loves me the same. Even if he wakes up different. Or if he never wakes up. I love him and I need to get the chance to tell him. I’d do anything for him. Always had and always would. My chest burned as two tears struggled their way down.
Please gods, just send him back to me.
Thursday
I really didn’t want to get up today. Getting the strength to get out of this chair was getting impossible.
I had dreams of my father for most of the night, how I had to take care of him like this and how profoundly it had affected me. We had been in his workshop for one of them. He was restoring a piece and I was watching on the side. I’d make a comment or two but he never heard me. He never answered. I got off the bench and went to his side but couldn’t touch him. He took off his work gloves, calling for me, calling for my mother. I was screaming, screaming at the top of my lungs that I was there but he walked away when I was glued to the floor.
I woke up while it was still inky black outside, listening to Dae’s rhythmic breathing. It helped a little and I pulled the blanket up, trying to nestle in again.
We were in the courtroom.Daemon himself was handcuffing my struggling father. I was pushing through the people, trying to get to him, shouting. Daemon led him outside, pulled him like a dog on a leash, and suddenly we were in the cemetery. He was pushing him into his grave. I jumped in as the rain of dirt came down, digging, digging but not getting much closer to his spluttering form.
When I woke up again,the cheerful sun was smiling through. I didn’t share its enthusiasm. The combination of the healing, stress and poor sleep left me bleary eyed and drained. At least he looked OK today. No fevers.
That was good at least.
I put my head back against the chair, unwilling to get up. I wasn’t sure if anything short of a natural disaster or Dae waking up would move me. Fatigued seemed like too simple a word. It felt like it was taking too much energy to breathe. I knew I would drag myself out of the chair to move him, tend him, do anything that he needed but in a few minutes. My soul could only take so much.
The dreams didn’t do much to help me either.
What if he never woke up? He had been so drained, so badly damaged. Filla gave me a shot, gave him a shot. I could only hope his body pulled through.
My sweet Damien, what did you do to yourself? The thought was an intrusive and insidious demon, poisoning my mood more.
I didn’t stray from the living room and kitchen all day.
Friday
Friday brought a well-needed full night’s sleep. I was able to shake off some of the doldrums and attempt to take care of myself. Food, drink, repeat, shower. I was able to summon a bit more enthusiasm today.
I thought about sending Filla a message but to what end? There was nothing she could do. We were six days into this nightmare.
Saturday
Day seven. I keep foolishly thinking he’s going to pop back at midnight. I blame my lot of folk lore, mythology and fairy tales. Ten thirty-four was just as likely as midnight. Midnight came and went. With it, most of my hope.
Sunday
Day eight. Not much has changed. Same routine. Take care of him, eat some food, shower.
Monday
Day nine. Utter and complete despair.
It hurts too much to hold on to hope.
CHAPTER 15
Unsent email
Dear Cor,
