Page 33 of A Silence So Divine

“You don’t need to worry about that, alright? I…” He releases a breath. “Iseeyou. Understand?” His tone is soft again, his shoulders drooping.

Idon’tunderstand.

“I’m glad you two have one another. Knowing your father—” He cuts himself off, and I can tell by the tick in his jaw that he wants to suck the words right back into his mouth.

I close the space between us. He has no choice but to look at me.

“You know my father?”I ask frantically, eyes ping ponging between his. I try to read his expression, hoping it will tell me something that I know he won’t.

“You know I did, Eden. I told you.” He says it sternly, like I should know better. Except he didn’t tell me that. Knowingofsomeone andknowingsomeone are two very different things.

“No, you didn’t,”I argue. My vision grows fuzzy around the edges as my heart rate skyrockets. Then, his words settle over me like a wave and I find myself treading water.

“You ‘did’? As in…”My hands begin shaking in earnest, and I struggle to remember signs.“Is my father dead?”I manage to ask. Each breath doesn’t quite fill my lungs.

His hands envelop my own and his brows pull together in concern. “Let’s not talk about this right now,” he tries to convince me, but it’s too late. I’m drowning. Ineedto know. I’d finally accepted that he wasn’t coming back, but if he’s dead and Cecilknewthat—

The light overhead flickers, and Cecil’s eyes shoot up. His face pales.

Flipping my palm over in his, I squeeze firmly and bring it to my own chest to sign a plea. The back of his hand rubs a circle beneath my collar bones.

With a shuddering breath, Cecil’s lips part. “Yes, he is dead.”

The one simple word has my knees buckling, but his hands are already at my waist. How bizarre it is to be held together by the same person who is tearing me apart.

How could he not tell me?

I don’t realize he’s swept me off my feet until I’m sat on a chair, his palms pressing to each side of my neck.

“Breathe, Eden. Come on, look at me,” he insists, his warm scent wafting over me as I choke on my own breaths.

“Look at me,” he repeats, his tone gentler this time. I do. I look at this man who knew my father was dead, and decided to live in his home.

This man who bought me clothing, fed me, and carried me to bed.

It’s impossible to decide who the bad guy is when you’ve never known a good one.

“Remember, there are some things you cannot know. I understand what you’re feeling—”

“Do you!?”I snap at the same moment my grief overflows. He flinches, but quickly catches my tear and wipes it on his jeans. The tip of his thumb is stained red.

“I need you to listen to what I’m telling you: Your father was ahorribleman. And when he went, it washischoice. Hechoseto leave you here. What he did to you…” His voice falters and he shakes his head, glancing around the room.

“Someday, I will answer any question you have. But Ican’ttoday, no matter how much I know you deserve that. All I canoffer you is the safety of staying with Creed and me. You keep your mouth shut, and I’ll do the same, remember?”

I hesitate, but I nod.

Time and time again, I’m reminded that I’m at the mercy of those around me. I have never been in control of my own life. Fighting is futile at this point. At the end of the day, the man standing before me is the lesser of two evils.

Cecil exhales heavily, sliding his hands back until he’s cradling the base of my skull. The slight tug of my hair eases the tension in my body and I allow myself to lean further back into his touch. This time, he doesn’t pull away.

One question lingers in my mind. However wrong it may be, the need to know outweighs my morals.

“Did he suffer?”I ask simply, pinning Cecil with my gaze. His eyes darken with fury.

“Not enough.”

A small and shameful part of me wishes the answer had beenyes.