Page 14

It’s just me and my emotional Geiger counter. That’s the beauty of having Zane as a son. He’s one of the best mistakes I’ve ever made– a mistake only because it was a game play and not a conscious decision Faith and I made as a loving couple. None of my children were truly created for altruistic reasons, but I doubt I could love them any more if they had been.

Zane is a soothing balm on my battered psyche and heart, as if he’s syphoning my emotions and drawing them into himself. He’s being the best son a father could dream to have, trying to center me to save me from myself.

Mind spinning, I’m dying to do very bad things. I want to plot and scheme to get my way. I long to flex my skills by manipulating my way back into Shadow Haven. A few seconds of Katya’s time, and I could get inside her head, twist her up, and force her to move back home with us.

But those are the thoughts and motivations of a selfish child who is no longer a driving force in my life, along with the dominating man who wanted to control every aspect of everyone’s lives.

As difficult as it may be, I have to come to terms with the fact that the world does not revolve around me. People have wants, needs, dreams, fears, and a vision of their lives that may or may not contradict with what I want for them and myself. I have to come to terms with this, but it’s a struggle.

When struggling, it’s best to seek the one who doesn’t require words to express the tumultuous emotions bombarding the soul. Zane doesn’t speak, ask questions, or make inane small talk to bridge the silence. He politely ghosts a foot behind me, digesting my emotions, sorting for a later resolution.

It’s as comforting as it is refreshing.

My life went off-kilter when I learned Cortez was my blood. I was young, too young to have had sex, but the need overpowered my mind. It was the first time I just reacted, and I followed that disastrous path for the rest of my life.

Was that God’s plan for me? I had to walk an evil life to obtain the pure results?

If I hadn’t had sex with my cousin, I doubt I would’ve ever bonded with Cortez as strongly as I had. Cortez and I are more than best friends, lovers, or partners– we’re soul mates. If I hadn’t intimately touched Cort, I would have found out he was my blood and that would have been the end, not the beginning.

Through amoral acts arose the purity of love.

If I hadn’t violated Marc’s innocence, which in turn led to him violating my mother, he wouldn’t have fled to Las Vegas, and a human being wouldn’t be walking this earth, bringing joy to our miserable lives.

Evil misdeeds created the beauty of life.

Entering Ma?tre du Jeu with Faith at my side. Faith and Cort wouldn’t have loved and hated one another, which led to a bond that transcended betrayals. Faith and I wouldn’t have created a life by edict passed down by the founders.

Involuntary acts created a life and a strong bond that have helped countless survive the vicious nature of Dominion’s legacy.

Our abduction– The torture. The torment. The violations. The deaths. The rapes. Did it all have a purpose? Ava was meant to be my daughter. She was meant to bless us with her presence, of that I have little doubt.

The four years that Katya has been with me, was it meant to draw her here for a different propose? Was my part in this just to draw her back home after her parents fled? Is Katya’s real destiny in Dominion, with someone in our lives? Was Katya’s rape the catalyst in her past to draw her toward a real, fulfilling future? Were Cortez and I just another step along Katya’s journey to bring life unto this world for its betterment?

We were just a layover for Katya’s true future?

Were all of the heinous acts I’ve perpetrated a way to force people not to dwell in the past, to not take what they have for granted and appreciate all they have, and to find the correct path they were destined to walk?

Did God fracture my mind as a way for me to find peace to do the evil deeds that brought about positive results? When my quest was completed, did He integrate me?

I’ve heard ethereal and ghostly and angelic my entire life. Am I similar to a fallen angel? Doing the evil acts in the name of God, taking on all the consequences, for the betterment of others?

Life is meant to be a continual learning experience. What am I to learn from this leg of the journey?

“Father?” Zane softly calls, trying hard not to startle me. He steps into my direct path of travel as we pace Misery Castle’s labyrinth of hallways. He doesn’t touch me because it strengthens the emotions, when I previously thought it was because he hated touch. Zane never told me this, of course. To learn this, I overheard my son confide in Cortez at a Ma?tre du Jeu meeting, for which I am thankful.

“Son?” I arch a brow in question. Saying the hell with it, I clasp Zane’s shoulder and squeeze. Selfish as always…

If I were Catholic, I would have to participate in Mortification of the Flesh for the amount of sins and selfish acts I’ve committed and continue to commit. When Dalton began the conversion over to Judaism, he was surprised to learn his masochism is considered a religious act among the rest of our peers. Marcus feared Dalton would convert to Catholicism instead, after learning this. Being neither sadist nor masochist, but a whole helluva lot martyr, I never took my faith too seriously.

My faith miraculously returned when I integrated.

“You feel good.” Zane flashes me an encouraging smile, palm pressing my hand closer to his shoulder. “It’s nice.”

A normal person would look at my son like he needs to visit me for a few sessions of psychological help, but I’m not normal and neither is my son. Squeezing Zane’s shoulder, I share a smile with my son, knowing my emotions are frying the poor boy’s mental signature.

“I want to do bad shit to get what I want,” I reluctantly admit. “It would be so easy.”

“No.” Zane simply states, and nothing more.

“I’m fighting it– can you tell?” my words twist with an upward inflection.

Staring into my son’s eyes, all I see is confidence in me reflected back. I marvel over how much we look alike, except for the wild hair the same shade as mine. It coils in extraordinary white ringlets past his chin. A trait passed down from Thomas Simpson, I remember Boyd’s hair looking like that when he was a little kid, before he was picked on. Boyd has since shaved it off.

I doubt anyone in their right mind would dare bully Zane for his mass of curls. That quiet power I possess exudes from Zane, combined with the ruthless ferocity of Faith. Zane would petrify me if he weren’t my son.

“I was relieved when you stopped plotting,” Zane knowingly murmurs, not bothering to fight back his smirk.

Since introduced to Dominion at the Christmas meeting, Zane is no longer a secret. He showed up at Misery Castle with Torian this morning. Tori is off entertaining the teenage demographic, while Zane zeroed in on me. Our relationship is going to change for the better. Worried about me, my son hasn’t left my side for hours.

We’ve been pacing for three hours, two and a half of which I was plotting on how to get everyone under Shadow Haven’s roof. About a half hour ago, I decided I should allow everyone to make their own decisions and live their own lives.

My son’s migraine vanished, I’m sure.

“I’m just going to let everyone live their own lives.” Swallowing down the tears threatening to fall, my voice is barely above a whisper. “Let them go.”

“Good,” Zane whispers back. “You’re ready.” Pulling my hand from his shoulder, he walks away. He keeps looking back, beckoning me to follow. After fifteen years, I understand his silent communication.

Hallways go by in a blur as I follow my son to the destination of his choosing. Three stories up the grand staircase, Zane silently ghosts with a grace even I don’t possess. Pride swells in my heart as I watch my son– intrigued by the man he’s growing up to be.

As we reach the third floor, Zane starts pointing at doors, exuding calm contentment. He can feel his relatives and friends behind those doors. My mother and Adelaide’s room, Spyder’s bedroom, Marc and Regina’s room, Ava’s soon-to-be vacated bedroom. Finally, the room that will be just mine, with its empty nursery across the hallway.

Zane turns to me, then clasps my shoulder as I had his earlier. Watery gray eyes connect and hold. For several long moments, my son and I just stand outside of my bedroom door, silently conversing until I feel emotionally even and receptive to suggestion.

“You will not plot. You will ask for their forgiveness. You will let them go so you may keep them. If you plot and try to suffocate them, you will undoubtedly lose them and me,” Zane vows.

Abruptly dropping his hand from my shoulder, Zane turns on his heel, then walks down the hallway to parts unknown, leaving me to face my fate.