Fear Itself

I let Sam’s office close and lock behind me as I stormed across the main room again, past the panels, past the screens, and straight back into my room. When the door slid up, Avery was seated on my bed still, now composed and calm. I huffed out a breath and swallowed my tears back. I picked the last envelope up off the mattress, the one addressed to my father.

Every logical part of me knew that there was no good reason to go back and give this letter to the man who was going to let me die, the man who sat and watched while his wife screamed for his help. Another part of me forced me to close my eyes and take a mental step back. I needed to look at this differently. He wasn’t just my father, as cold-hearted and dead inside as he seemed. He was a human being. He was a human being who watched his wife die. He was a man who fell desperately in love with a woman who was found to be fighting against everything he believed in. He was a man who never got to give the love of his life a proper goodbye or even read her last words to him. My father needed to see this letter.

“Mumbles,” I murmured, lifting my eyes from the envelope to look at him. “I think… I think I need to go home.” I paused and let the silence hang as we looked at each other. “My father needs to read his letter.”

He grumbled a little, glanced away for just a moment. He pulled the toothpick he kept behind his ear and stick it between his teeth before he stood and shoved his hands in his pocket. “Is this gonna be a few minutes?” he muttered.

I shrugged. “He might need some convincing,” I sighed. “I think um… I think that you should just drop me off,” I continued. “And I’ll just call you to let you know what happens.”

“He ain’t gonna lock you up,” Avery grunted, beginning to leave the room, but I shot him a grin.

“I took down that brute at the fight club in ten seconds, and I mouthed off to the Commander himself,” I retorted. “Nobody’s lockin’ me up.”

I thought I caught him smirking as he turned. “C’mon, then,” he chuckled under his breath, and off we went. I hadn’t made the trek to my father’s house in quite some time. Lately, when I was traipsing about East London, it was to see Dean… it was almost strange stopping right at the edge of the woods, but Avery gave me a familiar nod, and it suddenly felt like just yesterday that I had been here. The routine still felt familiar, and in a way, it was like I had never left home at all. “Go on,” he mumbled, giving me another nod and small shove. “Just call me. I’ll be ‘round.”

With a tiny nod, I took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to press forward toward the door of my house, clutching nothing but the straps of my backpack and the letter addressed to my father. I knocked on the front door when I reached the steps, and I waited minutes for my father to finally open the door. Albeit, a look of shock was plastered over his face, replacing an initial look of indifference. “Thalia,” he stammered at the sight of me. “What are you doing here?”

I said nothing at first, just extended the envelope toward him. “Here,” I offered in a quiet voice. “Mum left this for you in her journal.”

“How did you find her journal?” he inquired with furrowed brows and a whispered tone, thoroughly perplexed by my acquisition of such a thing. “She kept that hidden here.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” I huffed a breathy laugh. “Found it somewhere else.”

“Where?” my father pressed.

“That’s not important,” I countered, leaning forward and holding the letter further.

“Thalia, kindly remove that thing from my face. I’m not reading it,” he snapped.

“Dad, she wrote it for you,” I persisted, taking a step forward and pressing the envelope flat against his chest. “Will you please just open the damn thing?”

“Language, Pumpkin—“ he began to scold, but she stopped, and his eyes fell to his feet. His hand pressed over mine until I slid my hand away and let him hold the envelope.

“Read it,” I repeated softly. “She would have wanted you to.” A hush fell over us for a moment before his feet shuffled back across the carpet for a moment to clear a space for my entry. With one foot in the door, I paused to glance back toward the woods, and I caught a sliver of Avery’s face illuminated in the dull glow of street lights. I shot him a reassuring smile, and I caught him turn a little just as I stepped into my old home.

Everything seemed the same as it always did: spacious, vacant, unlivable. Truth be told, the place never quite looked like a home at all, rather just a shelter, perhaps even a morgue. There was no heart here, no warmth. It was just roof my father put over our heads to keep us alive and four walls built to keep me inside. It still felt just as much like a prison now as it did then.

My father sat down on the sofa in the living room and stared at the envelope. “It’s not so bad, Daddy,” I admitted. “I got one too.” His deep blue eyes looked up to meet my gaze with a hesitant, fearful look. Blinking, I considered the situation and resolved to treat him gently. I didn’t know if he deserved it, but it seemed like the right thing to do. “It’ll be okay, Dad,” I assured him, so he carefully pried the letter open.