Page 81 of A Master's Destiny
“I love you, too, Papa.”
A tide of sadness washes over me, but there are no tears, only an overwhelming sense of loss.
“I miss you,” I tell him. “I miss our times sailing out on the ocean together, our treasure hunts, and your laughter. How I miss your laughter, Papa.”
A chill enters my soul when I confess, “But, I’m starting to forget…”
The sadness I feel threatens to swallow me whole. “I’m forgetting thesoundof your laughter, the details of your face, the way it felt to hug you—”
I realize now why I blindly followed my mother tonight and gave her exactly what she asked for without question. I’m losing my father.
And that violin is my last connection to him.
“How do I go on without you?”
While I get no answer from him, I can feel his presence.
It is real and tangible.
Knowing my father is close fills me with a sense of joy and, in that brief moment, I feel peace.
I wake up with a splitting headache. Opening my eyes, it takes me a moment to orient myself as I sift through the fog in my brain.
Sitting in the dark, slumped against the steering wheel of my car, I sit up but immediately grab my head when it starts to pound.
“What the fuck…?” I mutter as I look around.
I’m in the parking lot at the Training Center. Glancing down at my watch, I realize tonight’s session is almost over. Feeling disoriented, I wonder if I’m dreaming.
The violin.
I scan the car, desperate to find it, but I quickly realize it’s not here.
My memories from the night come flooding back. Not only did the beast drug me, but she kept the violin.
Of course she did…
I sit back in my seat, disgusted with myself. “You’re an idiot, Thane.”
Since I’m in no shape to go to class, I take a few moments to gather myself before starting my car and driving home.
When I enter the apartment, Anderson looks away from the television and frowns when he sees me. “What the hell happened to you?”
Herding me to the couch, he grills me with questions until I spill it all.
“We have to call the police,” he insists.
“There’s no point. My mother did this as payback for her jail time.” I look at him wearily. “I guarantee you the police won’t find any evidence to convict her. It would simply be my word against hers.”
“But she drugged you!”
“Whatever she put in my system was laced with a hallucinogen, I’m sure of it. It’s not worth the risk for me to be associated with drug use, especially when it would only undermine anything I say about her.”
“You can’t know that,” Anderson says.
I smile sadly, condemning myself when I confess, “It’s what I would do if I were her.”
Anderson sighs, now understanding my dilemma.
