Page 40 of Severed Heart
“Delphine? You okay in there?”
“I need . . .”
Eyeing my bedroom doorknob from the tub, I squint to see it start to turn. Capping my bottle, I rise slowly from the water, grabbing my towel and palming it over my chest. “Tyler, do not come in!”
“I’m not ... I-I wouldn’t.” His confusion has me blinking to realize the knob has not turned by a fraction.
Get it together, Delphine, and get rid of the boy!
Because that’s all he is, a boy. A harmless boy.
It’s my fear that sneaks its way in as I keep focused on the knob.
Boys turn into men.
“How could you leave me to raise what I despise?”
The hem of my towel soaks as it dances along the top of the water as I remain paralyzed by fear in the corner of the tub. My eyes transfixed on the cheap brass knob with the worthless lock.
“Delphine?”
“I need five minutes!”
“Sounds good,” Tyler calls back as I rip my eyes from the knob and sip the bottle until the fear starts to slither away, coiling itself back into the darkest part of my water-drenched mind—readying itself for the next time.
Unplugging the drain, I retrieve what’s left of my bottle, capping it before redressing in my robe. Tugging down my sleeves, I clear my eyes before walking out to dismiss Tyler. I cannot possibly help him and am in no position to do so. Whatever this foolish boy seeks or sees in me is delusion.
Opening my mouth to send him home, the words are muted when I see Tyler has aligned our individual armies perfectly on opposite sides of the table. The sight of it sparks a distant excitement inside me—a flicker of a simpler time.
Of a time when I was brave. Before the haze and blur. A welcome feeling in exchange for fear and confusion. It’s when I take in the expression of the wide-eyed boy, eyes patient and imploring, which seek my approval, that I falter, unable to deny him.
“This is very good,” I compliment as I lift one of the soldiers, brushing my fingers over it.
“I think I see where you’re going with this,Yoda,” he jokes enthusiastically in an effort to appease me. Kind. Always so kind.
“Do you?” I reply, hearing the lingering shake in my voice, willing the burning inside my chest to subside as the numb starts to take hold, relieving me.
“It’s a game I have played since I was very young ... Bataille,” I whisper.
“Battle,” Tyler translates easily as he scans the soldiers. “If I would have knownthisis what I was prepping for, I would have cut off a few more days.”
I roll my eyes at his arrogance. “You will not be so smug when I take your army down,private.”
My threat does not deter him as he lifts one of his soldiers. “So, who taught you?”
“Matis.” I slide into the chair opposite of him.
“Matis?”
“My father,” I clarify, to which he gives me a forlorn nod. Tyler ran here tonight, and by the look of him, it seems he did not plan to come. As I scrutinize him, that truth becomes more obvious. He has not yet memorized the books but came to seek refuge from his life at home.
Stupid boy. What refuge could he possibly see in me?
In needing and seeking my own escape, I decide not to reject him.
“What?” He peers over at me, realizing how closely I’m watching him.
“Study your opponent,” I instruct. “Memorize them. In every exchange, look for tells, for lies, and most important, for weakness.”
