"Now now, don't be scared my darling," cooed Jocelyn from the kitchen. Scraping noises echoed, expressing the emptiness of the house. "I only wanted to wish you a happy birthday."
Skye kept her expression neutral. She knew the hospital had said that her mother was better now, and it was safe for her to come home, but Skye didn't believe it the moment she walked through the doorway. She could see it in the woman's eyes. That flash of insanity ready to pounce at the most unexpected moment. She didn't trust her mother for an instant.
Skye wanted to close her eyes and mutter a silent prayer that the frenzied woman in the kitchen wouldn't hear her father rousing from his slumber this early morning. She hoped that her mother was under the impression that only the two of them occupied the somber corpse they called a house. Unfortunately, Skye didn't have time for a silent prayer. She didn't have much time for anything. She would defend herself and her father against this woman, as he had taught her to. She just hoped she had the courage to do it. It seemed like that was all she had left: a sliver of hope.
Jocelyn's light feet tapped against the hard tiled floor, causing Skye to tense up. Relax, she told herself. Being tense would only make her lose the battle. However, when she saw her mother, knife in hand, she knew that winning the battle would be a long shot. Her father had taught her many things, like how to make a fire, how to defend herself with only her hands, and how to protect those she cared for. Weaponry never came up a strong suit, and she feared defending herself against one would be just as hard. But no, she would do it. For the sake of her father, she would win.
"My darling, Skye Rain. You know your momma loves you, don't you?" she drawled. Her hands hung limp at her sides, but her hand clutched a large cutting knife. One that Skye had recently sharpened only yesterday to cook for her father and herself. She now regretted it with every fiber in her being, though it probably wouldn't have made any difference to her mother.
Skye's throat tightened at Jocelyn's empty words, wishing they were true. But her mother didn't love her, and she silently wondered if the crazed woman ever had. She backed up a step, cautiously watching, waiting.
"You know… if I can't have you all to myself, then your father can't have you either. He was a selfish fool for taking you away from me. He was ignorant, too," she laughed. The sound was cold, ricocheting painfully through Skye's ears. "He thought I'd gotten better. But don't you see? I should have died on that night. The day I brought us to see the train. You should have too, but you were far too stubborn." She toyed with the knife, holding it between her two index fingers. The blade drew blood, sinking deeply into her skin, but she didn't notice. She was too immersed in her daughter to feel anything.
"Why should I have died?" Skye asked, then silently cursing herself when her voice shook and quivered beneath Jocelyn's penetrating stare. She cleared her throat. "Didn't you love me?"
Her mother's expression turned from shocked to a mocking pain. "Of course I did, honey," she said. Her voice oozed of everything that made up the perfect mother, and she stepped closer to Skye. "Don't you see? You and I, we're alike, the two of us. I feared the same fear you do: for you to have the same plague put upon you as I. I didn't want that for you. So, I took it upon myself to fix things. I did this for your own good!" She lashed out with the knife, but Skye wasn't ready for it.
She'd completely lost all train of thought when her mother spoke. Eerily, it made sense to her, why her mother tried so hard to kill her all these years. It was a sickness, she told herself. Her mother was sick. Nothing she said held any reality. But even still, Skye dropped to her knees with a cry, clutching the side of her face. Blood immediately began seeping through her fingers. Why hadn't she been ready? Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she refused to let them.
Jocelyn towered over her daughter's curled up form, smile filled with malevolence. "I'm so sorry, baby. Mommy was aiming for your throat, not your face. Why don't I try again, huh?" She clutched the knife in both hands and raised it high above her own head, but this time, Skye was ready.
She kicked her legs out, catching her mother off guard. She dropped the knife and collided with the floor, landing on her forearms hard. But Skye didn't stop. She couldn't. If she did, her mother would get back up as though nothing happened. She captured her mother's wrist and yanked it behind her back. The knife had clattered too far for her to reach it, so she reached her leg out, only keeping half of her body weight on her mother. It was a bad move.
Her mother wiggled and twisted, and since Skye wasn't balanced correctly, she fell onto her side, the force causing her to release her mother's wrist. Faster than Skye could blink, her mother was on her feet and pointing the knife above her. She released a breath and smiled all the same, shaking her pale hair away from her face. "Now Skye, you've gone and made me mad. I was only trying to help. But don't worry. This will only hurt for a second."
Before Skye had a chance to announce her dying wishes, a gunshot sounded through the air, capturing the attention of the two women. Above the stair railing, Zane O'Connor stood with his gun in hand, staring down at his ex-wife and daughter. "If you touch one hair on my daughter's head, you will regret it," he told her and aimed the gun at Jocelyn.
While Jocelyn looked up at her long lost lover, Skye grasped at the opportunity her father was giving her and once again kicked her mother's feet out from under her. The knife flew straight down, and Skye tucked in her arms, rolled to the side and picked herself up. The knife was cold in her fingers, as though there hadn't been anyone holding it before, and she knelt atop of her mother, pressing her knee into her chest and the knife to her throat. She didn't want to do it. Skye didn't want to have to kill her mother, however, if she had to, then she would. To protect herself and her father. But mostly to protect her father.
"I've already called the police," he told Skye, tucking his gun away in the waistband of his pants. Skye almost breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. "They will be here soon, so just keep over her until they get here, okay?"
Skye nodded, her black, curly hair cascading into her mother's chest. Jocelyn's eyes were absolutely feral, infuriated to the point of no return. She cursed her husband's name.
"You'll see what's going to happen! When she turns eighteen, you'll have another thing coming. She'll be just like me," she said. Her voice was maliciously pleased at her own words, but Skye ignored her. The woman rambled about Skye's eighteenth birthday like it was no one's business, so both she and her father continued to ignore her. The police arrived soon after, wrenching her mother away kicking and screaming.
Skye sighed out of relief when the police finally closed the door behind them. It muffled Jocelyn's screams, but it didn't do much of anything to ease the pain. Pain. Skye brought her hand to her cheek, remembering where her mother had cut her.
"Yeah, you might want to get that checked out," concluded a police officer who'd lingered to get the family's statements. "It'll get infected if you don't. How old are you, anyway?"
"Fifteen," her father answered for her. "And we'll call my mother. She'll be able to tend to her wound."
Skye was glad her father spoke to the police officer in place for her. She didn't know if she'd be able to do it by herself. She was a rather tough girl, but when her mother tries to kill her, well, it's not a pleasant experience. She was merely grateful no one had been seriously injured, especially her father. He'd always been there for her no matter what, and she couldn't imagine living her life without him.
"Now look," said the officer once he'd gotten all the information the two could give. "We don't know how she managed to bust out, but we know definitely that she was in no condition to be released. If you ask me, I think you two would be better off somewhere she couldn't get to you."
"The institution is on the other side of the island," he protested. "How is it that she managed to get to us so quickly? Someone on the inside must be helping her."
The officer nodded. "We suspected as such. But I stand firm in my words. From what you've told me it's only her she's after. Perhaps sending her away for a while-"
"No," Zane's voice penetrated the air thickly. "I'm sorry, but I believe it's time for you to go now."
The officer said nothing, but sighed. Skye knew he was only trying to help, but her father was on edge. What he needed most right now was to relax. The whole scene had shaken him up, and perhaps later on, he would consider the officer's words. But for now, the man only tipped his hat. "Yes sir. If anything else arises, feel free to give me a call. I'm more than happy to help." He handed Skye's father his business card and left the two alone.
Skye could see the emotions raging beneath his dark brown eyes, flickering away so fast, it was nearly impossible to keep up, but Skye knew what he was feeling. He was sad that the one woman he'd ever fallen in love with was going insane. It pained him to know she was trying to kill Skye, his daughter, the one person he loved more than life itself. He feared for the safety of his young daughter.
Skye knew she had to do something. Anything to ease her father's pain. "I'll make us some lunch, okay?" she told him, and strolled into the kitchen. He followed behind her.
"No, you sit. It's your birthday. I'll make lunch. It's the least I can do after…" He got this faraway look in his eyes, but Skye didn't argue against him. She figured he needed the distraction, so she perched herself on the stool beneath the countertop and engaged in conversation with him. Smiling and laughing was something unfamiliar to her. With everything she'd been through, it was understandable, but right now, her father needed reassurance that she was still alive. She was still breathing.
"So," Zane said, eyeing his daughter expectantly while cutting onions. "Any boyfriends I should know about?"
"Yep," Skye said immediately. "Three of them. I just didn't know how to choose!" She was joking, and of course, her father knew as such.
Her father laughed a joyous laugh that filled the entire room. "I didn't know my little girl was such a… what's the opposite of a lady's man?"
Skye smiled and shook her head, pleased that her father was smiling and laughing again. But then his face turned serious, and he turned to watch her. "Can you promise me something, Skye?" When she nodded, he continued. "Wait until you find the right guy to start dating. And you'll know when he comes along. His words won't always be pretty, and he may not be the most romantic, but he'll come along. And when he does, you'll know." He looked into the eyes of his daughter and sighed. Skye waited patiently for him to continue, knowing there were more than just those few simple words that any father will tell his daughter. "I just don't want you to settle for anything less than you deserve.
"I know you've had a hard time looking for a boyfriend, especially with your mother always just around the corner. But I have a feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that you'll find that someone soon. Very soon."
Skye smiled at her father and fed him reassuring words. Her father was he one person in this world that she respected more than herself, and she would follow his advice to the 't'. Unbeknownst to her, that feeling in the pit of his stomach turned out to be a lot more than just gut instinct.
She remembered that night with the feeling of anguish, wishing she would have realized his situation before now. That night, two years ago, he'd cooked her an amazing birthday dinner as he did every year, watched the movie, The Outsiders, had her grandmother patch up her cheek, and fell asleep with popcorn in their laps. That was the last night her father walked on his own.
Skye didn't know what happened to her father until the poison spread through his lungs and ate through the muscles in his legs. Grandma said he'd never walk again, and she was right. Skye cursed the very ground her mother walked on, knowing that her mother was responsible, yet not yet knowing how at the same time. She'd cradled his hand in hers as he lie motionless in his deathbed, his last few words ringing like church bells in her head.
"Skye, I need you to do something for me," he'd told her.
She rushed to his side, holding his cold, clammy hand against hers. "What is it? Are you still cold? Do
I need to get Grandma to bring another blanket?"
He shook his head, unable to speak as a coughing fit rolled over him. It sounded like he had terminal cancer from being such a dedicated smoker, but he'd never smoked a cigarette or cigar a day in his life. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. "If I don't make it, I need you to go and stay at a friend's house. He'll be more than happy to take you in. His name is Billy Black. Do you remember him? He lives in Washington, on the reservation near Seattle."
Skye shook her head. She didn't want to remember him. She didn't try to. Her father would make it. He had to. He was all the sanity she had left. He was her only family. "You won't die, Dad. Trust me, you're a fighter."
He smiled lovingly at his daughter, amazed by her stubbornness. "Now, you know better than that, my dear. I raised you to be practical."
Skye released a shaky sigh, holding back her tears. She didn't want the last image of her father to be through tears. She wanted a clear picture embedded in her mind to remember him by. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. I promise I'll go straight to him. I love you, Dad."
"I love you, too, Skye Rain. Don't forget how to love."
Those were his last words to her before his hand went limp in hers. She didn't cry. She wouldn't cry. The pain would go away soon, she assured herself. Her father was in a much better place. Somewhere he could watch over her; somewhere her mother couldn't get to him. He was safe now, and that's all that mattered.