Page 208 of Severed Heart
“At school,” my love hesitantly replies, his curse floating up to me shortly after Ezekiel’s car door slams, and my nephew turns his engine over before racing away.
Jean Dominic hums as I keep up my charade, stealing glimpses at my nephew, where he stands at my bedside, bandaging me in an effort to heal me. Inching my head back to gain more view, I glance down to see my pajama top is covered as well—but in only one place. I count six Band-Aids lined up in a neat row across my pajama top, above where my heart lies. The number is ironic to me because Jean Dominic could never possibly know that’s the number of years I was trapped in hell. It’s when he finally works his way up to my face that I allow him to see my open eyes as his own widen in surprise. “Tatie!” he exclaims. “You are awake!”
I nod as he scans the work he’s done before he brings his gaze back to me. “Maman said you were so very sick and sad and that you can’t talk!” He shouts as if I’m deaf, too. “Do you feel better?”
His innocent eyes search mine in hope as I will myself to answer.
“Oui!” I manage, my voice unrecognizable with that one word.
“Maman!” Dominic calls loudly for her, and I know it’s to boast that he got me talking. As he calls her a second time, I note the beauty of Celine’s youngest son. Where Ezekiel is just as beautiful in his own right, Jean Dominic’s is ethereal ... almost otherworldly in a sense. I decide it has to be his youth and that all children are probably beautiful in the same way. I have not paid attention to many children, but I have noticed it in Celine’s boys. In their translucent newborn skin, the tiny veins just beneath their perfect pinkness, and their silky hair. Which shines on its own without the added reflection of light.
Their souls just as flawless. Perfect and pure, free of debris and the filth of life. Their tiny bodies and hearts utterly untarnished. As I stare at Jean Dominic as he waits for his mother’s praise in those short few seconds, for the first time, I take a different meaning in the Word, which conveys God’s love for all his children. Words which declare we are seen and loved by Him the very same way—new babes with translucent skin, tiny veins—and shine for Him without the reflection of light. That His love keeps us safely in that veil and viewed the way I view Jean Dominic right now.
The idea that this could be the truth has my chest roaring in pain and longing, in desperate want of that love. Where just days ago, I was made to believe that love is the greatest deceiver of all and could never exist in such a way for me. But in my nephew—during those short seconds—I see God’s love. Just as I think it, a shudder runs the length of my body before it erupts in chills. A presence takes hold of every one of my senses, surreal warmth filtering throughout my heart as my mind goes utterly silent. And with my mind quieted, I feel a soothing balm surrounding the riot roaring within my rupturing soul, a half breath before it’s snuffed out. Within the length of a few heartbeats, all pain leaves me, and I experience a peace I never thought myself capable of. Just after, I’m gently released back into reality. That utter state of peace coming and going so quickly that I instantly wonder if I experienced it at all. It’s the relaxed state that remains in the aftermath that convinces me it did happen—that I didn’t imagine it.
In that aftermath, the sight of Celine popping her head into my bedroom door, eyes comically widening a second before her jaw unhinges, has a smile threatening—a smile!
The mere notion of that expression seeming impossible to me, a feat I never planned on taking on after I woke. Never to be fought for or mustered up, or a priority or remote possibility mere minutes ago that suddenly becomes knowledge. A knowledge that someday, maybe not soon, but someday, I will smile again.
Celine’s eyes widen further as she draws near and lifts the box of empty Band-Aids, her voice light but scolding.
“My God, Dominic, did you have to use every single one?” Celine’s mortified eyes dart to mine in apology as she kneels before him and grips his tiny, healing hands. “And what did I tell you?”
“To leave Tatie alone,” Jean Dominic speaks, mimicking her voice. “But she said she feels better now, Maman!” he argues before he turns to me, his silver-gray eyes imploring mine. “She told me so. She talked to me, Maman! Didn’t you?”
“Oui,” I answer through the rusted blades in my throat as I manage my first words for him since I woke in that hospital. “Oui, m-m-much better.”
My sister’s eyes instantly fill with tears as we hold our stare for long seconds, both moved by the gesture of her beautiful little boy. Hope bouncing between us for the very same reason—that we will survive this dark time and escape the lingering fear and pain together as we have every other obstacle we’ve faced since we became sisters.
“Come on,” Celine sighs, guiding Jean Dominic by the palm through my bedroom door as I call after him. They both stop at the threshold as I whisper the truth.
“You heal me.”
“Oui, Tatie,” he pronounces proudly. “Then I will bring more tomorrow!”
“No,” Celine laughs, ushering him out. “You will not. Come on, little prince,” she says, giving me a wink before they disappear from sight. Just after, I release the tears of hope I’ve been holding as I stare after the angel who just left my bedside.
Tyler surrounds me in his comfort as I stare down at Dominic’s solid white casket, pinpointing precisely what Alain took that night—the naïve sense of safety God gifted us. The blissful ignorance that veils and shields us from the evils of men. Of being naturally blind to such evil. Of believing in Band-Aids.
A veil that no one, once exposed to it, can ever get back. And in seeing that evil, feeling it, and becoming intimate with it, I can task myself to battle it like my nephew did before he lost that fight. As more cars begin to turn over, I allow myself to mourn the loss of that veil for the last time. To grieve the boy who stole my heart and brought me light and hope during one of my darkest times. It’s then I collapse into my love’s arms and allow that grief briefly to take hold ... but only for a moment.
Years before that veil was taken, I charged myself to fight the evils of men. And as I will the last of that grief out of me, I decide to reforge the soldier within and charge her to rejoin the battle she left long ago.
Fury begins to take hold, taking ownership of my grief as the restlessness that’s been prodding me since the day Jean Dominic died becomes recognizable. Inside that recognition, a mold starts to take shape. The inferno of anger blazing inside, pouring itself into it just after. The base of my designed wrath precise for wielding. The opposing edge sharpening to a point capable of penetrating any armor. The tip of it coated in a venom so toxic it will unapologetically take down any barrier that threatens to interfere with its purpose. As I gather my rage to poise it—to take aim—I feel the coil beginning within, growing tighter and tauter as I start to straighten my spine, denying another tear.
Tyler tenses briefly, sensing the change happening inside me before releasing me just as I lift my eyes to his.
In an instant, he recognizes what’s in my expression. And though my days as this newly forged soldier are numbered, I lift my chin in defiance of that number, determined to take aim as long as I’m capable. Not an ounce of fear remaining as I stare at the man who not only recognizes the fire now burning inside me but stokes it with the return fire in his own. No words necessary as we solidify our new mission.
Our collective flames and darkness brushing before merging together as we mentally start to strategize. Though they declared it, they’ll soon die painfully regretting it because, as of this moment, we’re taking it back and declaring itour own war. As my soldier and I walk hand in hand from Dom’s graveside, we blaze together down that hillside with a matching search for vengeance in our rippling souls and wrath beating between our synced hearts.
Chapter Fifty-Six
TYLER
BLINK.
Exhausted and reeling from these last relentless weeks, images of my latest mission threaten to shutter in as I lower my truck windows, allowing the breeze in. Fall announcing its imminent arrival as brisk air filters throughout the cabin. Restless and unable to sleep, I left Delphine in bed to take a drive, and since then, I have ended up aimlessly roaming the streets of Triple Falls as I did years ago. Only vaguely aware I’ve lost time due to the visions continually threatening to batter me.
