Ascension - Book Eight - Man x Man

Chapter 75

Sighing, I cross my arms over the railing, staring out onto the expanse of the acreage. The distant bellow of one of the lumbering creatures, the strong scent that burned my senses, and the thrumb of their hoof beats. It reminded me of our pastures of horses, of course, we couldn't ride these creatures but there was an echo of home here. Acres of cows and farmland, we could build a life in a place like this if we didn't destroy it first. 

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the pack of cigarettes, rotating the box in my hand as I take in the scent. His stuff was still here, so where was he?

"What if you don't want to come back?" I mutter. Thinking of Randy's attempt to take his life, thinking of the way I felt laying in bed last night, it wouldn't surprise me if he was out there in the ether trying not to come back to us. It was a pathetic thought, I knew he loved us, I knew he would do whatever it took to find us, yet I was still questioning. 

Setting the cigarettes on the rail, I pull out my phone, calling him once more to listen to the voice mail again. "Hey. This feels silly.. but you'll laugh about it when you come back." I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose at the ridiculousness of calling him. "I'm not good at this whole parent thing, Darrius is really missing you and I'm not helping matters." Frowning, I press my cheek to the cool screen, wishing I could hear a response. 

"I really miss you, Randy." Hanging up, I find myself wishing I'd taken more pictures of us. 

Helen appears beside me, placing the plate on the rail and snagging the box of cigarettes to nearly repeat my ritual. I nearly snatch it back out of her hand, only to opt to grab the apple off the plate instead. An oversized mixture of reds and yellow, "It's a Honeycrisp." She tells me, placing the box back down as I take a bite. 

Appreciating the sweetness, I can't help but feel appreciative. 

Helen looked different, wearing a flannel shirt over a thin tank top, and a pair of aged jeans, her slender body looked stronger than I remembered. No longer girlish, she looked older, fit, with the same short hair cut though it appeared to have been cut with scissors as opposed to professionally. Her full lips were slightly pursed as those light eyes watch the boards on the deck, arms crossed over her chest. 

"Have you watched the news?" She asks, her voice low. 

"I don't have a ton of free time," I grumble, taking another bite.

"There is a movement of hero lead protests, making waves in our favor. Lotta and Ron are doing a good job trying to turn this press around on the murder charges. Hero's and magic users are making their way to the streets, defending our cause. It would seem Caspian's absence from the underbelly of this society has slowed down the wraith sightings and disappearances. I think they are going to try to spin this that Artifice and its contacts are the true murderers."

Of course, they were in some sense, but the truth was this would put us all in an interesting position. Would we stand by and lie that Verando wasn't a hired hand? We were no better if allowed that to pass too easily because we were the ones deciding who was killed.

When I don't respond, she pulls her lips into a thin line and looks over her shoulder to see what I'm looking at. The truth was nothing, in particular, I was trying to figure out who I was and where I stood in all of this. "Are we ever going to be normal again?" I finally manage. "Is this a normal thing for humans to talk about?"

She scoffs, "I've had normal human conversations for most of my life, trust me, you aren't missing anything."

So had I. Until I was eighteen, I was a prince but the lowest version of one. I was no contest for the throne, I read, I studied, I pined for friends, and wondered about my sexuality. Now, I can't help but feel like I'd missed out on how to function with a family and those around me. I was one tracked, my ability to multitask fell short in the normal parts of living day-to-day lives. It no longer occurred naturally to me, as if I was becoming defective.