Page 207 of Severed Heart

“No,” I say adamantly. “No. Self-punishment is the absoluteworst torture. Let it be, Jean Dominic, and don’t credit yourself so much. You may have had something to do with my decision that morning, but you did not make the decision.I did, and don’t forget that. You did not drink all those bottles, self-sabotage, and hurt your nephews. I did. So, take the blame from yourself, make peace that you were young and acted like a natural asshole teenager, and let it be over. We have all suffered enough from our past mistakes and circumstances, so enough of this,” I state again. “You thrive on your relationships with your brothers. I do not want this to be another divide between what you hold so dear. Hear me, Jean Dominic, let it be, let it go, andnever speakof this again. Do you understand?”

He stares at me for a long minute before he finally nods.

“But I will ask you forone thing, nephew. Just one thing.”

“I’m listening,” he mutters, exhaustion and ache in his eyes.

“Do you remember what I told you about forgiveness when you took me to the sunset?

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“My ask is that you don’t let this go on so long that you and Ezekiel lose one another. Your heartbreak is one thing, but the loss of your relationship with your brother will be the true tragedy. I still, to this day, love your mother so much for loving me when I thought no one could. I’m sure now that is why she remains so deep in my heart, and you have her heart, Dominic.”

“I’m feeling a lot right now, Tatie, but I heard you.” He lets out a long breath. “You really don’t hold it against me?”

“No. I’m okay with things as they happened because he’s an incredible soldier, and I helped to rear the soldier inside of him to care for you both, which is my contribution and repentance. And look what you all have become! I have so much pride that you are all the soldiers I wanted so much to be ... but please try to forgive as fast as you can so you don’t lose the time I have because it is damning,” I warn. “So damning.”

He studies me for several heartbeats before he finally nods again.

“Okay, that’s all I wanted to say.” I stand. “Good night... je t’aime, Jean Dominic,” I exhale shakily. “I am so glad you remember me... before.”

Turning from him to relieve him of any response to my affection, he grips my forearm to stop me when I take the first step up. Looking down, I see his eyes filled with pain before he poses his question.

“Do you want to play a game?”

“Do you mean Battle?” I perk up.

“Yeah.” He stands, “I don’t see myself sleeping anytime soon.”

“Okay.” I smile. “Let me go find some soldiers.”

* * *

The feel of little hands has me opening my eyes to follow their movements. They carefully strip away the plastic before the adhesive is pressed to my skin, covering the fingerprint-shaped bruises on my arm. The little fingers attached to little hands continually pluck from a box of Band-Aids that are propped against my drawn knee where I lay in bed. It’s when he starts to hum “Alouette” that a sting I swore I was incapable of since I woke begins to burn my eyes, nose, throat, and chest. A sting that increases as I continue to rouse.

“Tobias ... you can’t go,” Tyler calls from yards away, trailing Ezekiel as he stalks toward his Jag.

“Where is she?” Ezekiel snaps in response.

Jean Dominic remains diligent in his task to cover me in strips of plastic where I lay on my side, facing him. With every bandage he successfully secures, he darts his eyes up to mine, sensing he’s being watched, and I close them just as quickly before he resumes his work.

As Jean Dominic attaches another bandage at the base of my neck, I ignore the tickle. Fighting hard not to release the burning tears desperately trying to escape my closed eyes. Slitting them open, I catch glimpses of the little boy at my bedside, who is doing his very best to cover every visible mark, every hurt on my body.

“You know you can’t—” Tyler tries to reason with Ezekiel as he, in turn, demands his answer.

“Where is she?” Ezekiel orders a second time.

“Je te plumerai la tête... oh, oh, oh, oh,” Jean Dominic squeaks as he carries on, as feelings I haven’t once experienced—nor been able to draw out since I woke in that hospital—start to crash into me like a tidal wave. Emotion that I haven’t yet been able to summon. Not once since Ormand looked over to me, sobbing with red-rimmed eyes. Not once since Celine began to spoon-feed me, her eyes haunted as she assured me Alain was long gone and would never be back. Feelings that did not arise the day I isolated myself in my bathroom, staring for long minutes at the damage my husband left in his wake.

Confusion has been present since I woke, as well as irritation with Beau, who did not heed my warning about Abel. Insisting he would deal with Ezekiel’s grandfather if he did become a threat. That our Ravens would stand guard and that we had the upper hand here in the States.

More irritation as well for the haze that now surrounds my vision, my memory. For being so helpless and unable to care for myself. For being unable to speak. But as far as real, genuine emotion, especially anger—not a trace. However, it’s the loss of something essential inside of me that plagues and puzzles me. The mystery ofwhat was takenthat sometimes outweighs the pain. Something I know now is not emotion.

But it’s Jean Dominic’s continued gentle touch and humming that has emotion threatening to overcome me now. Through slow cleansing breaths, as I gaze upon him, I manage to stifle the threatening cries so as not to scare him, though I want so much to free them.

“You don’t want to do this,” Tyler warns, his voice more urgent. “It will only—”

“Where is she?!” Ezekiel shouts as a tense silence passes.