Page 52 of Stand: Part One
“Darren,” she said softly.
“Hmm?” I hummed as I tied off the last stitch.
“You understand that your father was incredibly deranged, right? You know that’s not normal parenting? That what he did was psychotic?”
I grinned as I turned to place the suture tools back in the kit and pulled out the gauze and medical tape.
“You might consider it deranged in your world. But in ours, it’s considered necessary,” I stated as I cut the gauze into the right shape and size. “Your job as a parent is to ensure the survival of your children. And in our world, surviving means a lot more than just knowing how to file your taxes.” Her mouth formed a tight line as she considered my words. “You were taught how to avoid homelessness. I was taught how to avoid death,” I continued, holding the gauze over my wound. “And then I was taught how to become it.”
I handed Jaden the medical tape, and she took it robotically, her eyes still glazed over as she began to rip off a good length.
“But it wasn’t all just about pain and torture, Jaden. Afterward, we learned how to treat our injuries once we could maintain consciousness.”
She visibly grimaced. “Please stop talking,” she snapped as she finished taping the gauze to my side.
“We’d learn how to remove bullets from our bodies, splint broken bones, and sew each other back together. It was actually quite the brotherly bonding experien?—”
“Stop. Talking.”
Jaden leveled me with a glare that told me she wasn’t enjoying my childhood story. I chuckled at her clear distress as she handed me back the tape. Taking it out of her hands and dropping it on the bed, I snatched her wrists together and yanked her to me. A quiet gasp escaped her lips as her body stiffened, but she didn’t fight my hold.
“Look at me,” I ordered, my tone dark with purpose. She bit the inside of her cheek but lifted her chin to meet my eyes. Hazel pools of sadness, anger, and fear stared back at me, the glassy exterior reminding me of a look my mother used to wear all too often. “The point I’m trying to make, my little queen, is that there is nothing my enemies could do to me that I haven’t already survived. So when I tell you that this little scratch on my side is nothing more than a paper cut to me, you’ll appreciate why.”
She said nothing as I released her and turned my attention back to packing up the rest of the suture kit. Jaden immediately moved away to lie on her side against the pillows, her knees curling into her chest and her eyes cast low. Shutting the lid, I set the kit on the nightstand, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. Once I was situated, I reached over and pulled Jaden to me, locking my arm around her small frame and pressing her against my uninjured side and chest.
Her body was stiffer than ice while her fist clenched tightly against my abdomen.
“You’re upset,” I stated.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She was silent for a moment, and I gave her the time she needed to voice her thoughts.
“Did your grandfather do the same to your father?” she asked. “When he was growing up?”
Ah, the dreaded legacy question.
“Yes,” I answered.
She shivered against me, and my initial instinct was to pull her even closer.
“And do you want to continue that practice?” Her voice almost shook, like she was afraid to know the answer. But Jaden already knew. She knew from the moment I first told her.
“Yes.”
15
Premonition
Someone was screaming. No. Multiple people were screaming. Where was it coming from? Everything was so damn dark and cold. I couldn’t find my way. But the screaming kept getting louder, more erratic, sharper. What was happening to them?
I tried to follow the voices, stumbling my way through the dark, catching myself on a cold concrete wall. I clung to it, scaling the wall until the screams became so loud my ears rang with horror.
“Jaden!”
I bolted at the sound of my name, racing through the shadows as my heart pounded in my chest, fear crippling my fortitude.
