(joseph&skye) cerebral thunder in one-way conversations

 

Hunkered by her side, I say nothing when she takes my hand off her arm. And incline slightly the head, when she arouses my interest by stating she's safe nowhere. A paternalistic feeling instinctively comes to me, makes me think to my daughter. All my life, I managed my best to be sure she will never have this kind of fear, even after the murder of her mom by a hunter, of my wife. For her, I simply gave up my career ; the happiness of my baby was and is well more important.
And that this little piece of woman speaks out these words to me… I just want to take care of her, to watch over her. I would like to give her this beautiful sensation of having nothing to fear. Of being no more chained by the fear. And one moment I get lost in the past, one more time. I know far too well what she could feel.
There is an age where I was a simple little boy, with a mommy more overflowing of love for her son than for herself. And a father inherently wicked. I was playing the proud in front of him, I was showing myself strong to protect the one who loved me so, nonetheless deep inside, I was terrified. This good old Jo was punching, clobbing mom. I was unable to stay there without moving, hearing and seeing him hurting my mom. So I was always trying to hold between, preferring to take the blows. Mommy was strong you know. She wasn't able to leave him, to take us far away. After all, we had a roof thanks to him, food in our plates, a warm bed to sleep in. Yes sometimes, she let my father beat me. But how to do otherwise when you don't have enough strength left to stand up ? When you fall down the floor, unconscious ?
Dare to say she wasn't strong. She gave me all her love, all her knowledge. She didn't give me up. Never. There were some days when it crossed her mind. When she wanted to take me away with her. Like this time when we were seating several minutes on a bridge, our feet in the void. And she was crying, and constantly apologizing. Yes, there were unbeautiful days. Nevertheless at the end, knowing that I gave her the desire to keep living, it's beautiful, right ?

Sad one instant, I would probably have shed a tear if I would have been alone. Only by her souvenir. I blink my eyes and forget, storing this part of past in a drawer of my head. Looking at her in the eyes, I see her nightmares that keeps shooting, even awoke. But whatever what it haunts her, whatever what she would like to run away of more than anything, she seems deserving more than anyone to be in peace with her past. It's an angel. As all the women. And the angels should never be chained.
Then Skye asks me this easy question, why ? One word, leading to a various possibility of answers. Especially right now. I seat against the wall, next to her, taking care to not be to close of her. Why this difficulty to find sleep ?

" Because… ", I start without finishing, hesitating on what to say exactly. I give her a glance. I don't have the habit to open myself to others. To talk about me, truly. But having observed her since she arrived, watching at her now, I start to believe that I could tell her. And at the bottom, it could make me feel better. Because since Rozenn, I had no one. No one with who I have been capable to talk freely. No one close enough to my heart, my feelings. I incidentally believe that I never poured my heart out about her death, even if a lot of shoulders have been offered to me. I rather preferred to bury my rage by killing hunters. 
Perhaps if I open myself, the young lady will do the same one day. " Urchin, my father was beating my mom. And me, every time I was trying to protect her. Let's say that this is the beginning of everything. " Only my girlfriend and my wife knew this. Knowing that they're both dead by my fault now, I feel like I opened the doors of heaven to Skye. " The past is disrupting my nights, disrupting then the ones of my daughter. And I refuse this. " It musts not sound very clear. But I already have the feeling to have talked too much, so staying in blurred avoid to unveil myself too much. I don't ask her questions. I'm convinced that she will talk when she will feel enough at her ease. Safer.

Silence. A long silence. A comfortable one, even regarding the topic. I guess she was just trying to balance if she should rather speak or not about her, open her heart, deliver me her secrets. Cause I was sure she's hiding as much things as me. Hiding her past, trying to forget it. Trying to turn the page, to move on. It was all about this. All about being able to deal with it and keep going. There is no way to put it out of your head. And if you don't go over it, it will eat you all. My cohabitation with my own past is not really going well. It's eating my nights. At least, I'm not the kind of guy who falls in alcohol and drugs. Even if their accessibility is like super easy for me. No, I'm more the kind who's putting is rage in killing hunters, or knocking out some duchbags who are looking for troubles. Actually sometimes, I could give a punch to the first man who talks to me. Even if he just wants to ask his way. There is some days where my rage is just controlling me, making me go a bit more crazy than usual. It's often when I didn't get enough sleep. Or when my nightmares make coming up some shitty memories. Alright, perhaps I'm not the best example of the guy who's coping well with his troubles.

And she started to talk. Just a small sentence. Nonetheless, that was enough. Enough to see that I was right. That she doesn't just remind me my mom, she actually is like her. Not the same age, not the same face, not the same reasons. But still a pretty girl who asked for nothing more than love and roses, and finally get hatred and blues by an asshole man. A man who deserves nothing more than a painful death. Same bad man in her life, that she couldn't run away of. I will always ask myself how can a father beat his child ? His own blood, his little baby. Cause being a father myself, I don't understand. I would never understand. And I'm not even the most sane one. I'm sincerely afraid for my daughter. Seeing her growing up, knowing that she will start to hang out with guys. She's actually already dating some. And I can't help but thinking that if one day, she says me she loves girls, I will surely be the happiest dad on earth. Even if I have a blind trust in her, I know too well that love can make you foolish. 
By hearing these words filtered her lips, I just want to hug her. This little body that from now, will always stay fragile and weak to my eyes, no matter what. That will need protection and care.

Then she asked me a question, and I became speechless. In one second, I just locked myself in this bad memory. It is like if I was back in this fucking shitty night. Like an awake nightmare. Actually, there were two shitty nights, bound to each other. Two where I killed people I loved more than anything else in the world. That I still and will always love.
The night when I remembered was a thundertormed one. Because of me and of what  was going on in my mind, I guess. I remembered the accident that cause the death of my parents only nine years later. I don't know why it just came up to my conscience at this moment.
I have been fighting a boy, when we were in a restaurant. I was six years old. My father went mad about it, and he just threw me in the car, making the "family" come back home. He kept yelling while driving, starting to threaten my mom who was trying to take my defense. I was no longer able to stand this. And the rage started to boil in my blood, pissing me off. All of a sudden, a bolt hit the road. I know it was me. The first time my supernatural thing made is coming out. And the car crashed, flying into a river.

"I killed them."

I whispered it. I was still stuck in my mind. Remembering. I'm not used to remember this by myself. Usually, it's always unconscious, during my sleep. I was just looking the void in front of me, feeling like if my mom was hugging me again, while I was apologizing, and she was saying me I love you. I still don't know how I get out of the water. How I survived to it. Why me and not my mom. By killing my dad, I killed my beloved mom. And remembering this night, I killed my beloved girlfriend. And I feel the arms of Kathelynn around me, I feel her like shaking, crying, afraid. And I actually want to stay in the past. At this moment when she was still here for me. At this moment when the bolt didn't hit her yet.
Both of them, alive.

So much blood on my hands. So many people killed by them, me. I am actually unable to say how many. I never start counting. Or yes I did, just for the four first, for the only ones that were, are important to me, my family. For the ones I will always regret. The only reason that makes me hate myself some days, hate the fact I am what I am. A tempestarii, a mad men. I do not find myself really mad after all, comparing to others. And it's perhaps in that fact that I am the maddest one. I'm just feeling like being someone who had some troubles, not an easy peasy life.

Still stuck in my own head, in my past, her sentence kinda wake me up. Half awake. I look at her, my spirit split between present and past. And I can't help myself but have this little smirk on the face. At least, she was pay for it. It is like charity for me. Killing people is nothing to laugh at, I know I know. Nonetheless it is not like if I was taking pleasure into it. I mean, beating someone, expressing my rage, letting go my anger, this makes me feel good. I just need it. Gestures are more talking for me, than words. And death is just the necessary and final word in that story, mine, all stories. Don't worry, I'm not killing your lovely grandma. Only hunters that cross my road, people who are "looking for" me, jerks, in general terms.

All lifes are made of choices. I do not and will never regret mines. They led me where I am now, and I do not think that I am in bad shape. Just been trough a lot. And even all the things that happen without letting us choose, I'm convinced that there is a why behind each. And karma is balancing the good and bad ones. So, when I look at her and see her sad, like full of regrets after saying those words, I just want to change that face. Perhaps not making her laugh, not sure that this can be possible yet, but at least make appear a little smile on it, or bring another kind of thought.

After all these years, thinking quite daily to all my beloved ones of which I am the murder of, I'm afraid to say that I get used to it. Then when I start to be sad, to even be to the point to be able to cry, I just stop thinking of it. No need to force myself now. My mind works by itself. It closes that huge closet, and chooses another subject to busy my mind. Then I start to talk of another kind of personal thing. Still and always wanting to know more about her.

" You know I have a girl ? My little angel, Malena. That's for her and her mom that I'm here. Hunting the hunters. You ? "

The only thing I was willing for right now, was to hug her. To give her the love she never had, or nearly. That little girl, I was unable to call her woman by seeing her like this, she seemed to have been through so much things, to have met so many wrong persons. Just that "him" she promised to to stay alive, to fight. He might be the only one that really count for her. Perhaps the only one that was taking care of her, when she was in that nightmare place. This should not be. No one should feel that alone. I know too well that loneliness can be feel like a strength. Untouchable, no one able to hurt you, hurt your feels', no one to care of. In my case, I was so much not giving a shit of anything, myself, for a time, that I led me more than once close to death. The women, they have always been my unique family. And when I was without, because I killed them unpurpose,  I was simply alone. Fighting with the first who could dare, at the beginning even with some that I was sure to not beat. Fortunately, I was wrong, I was stronger than I thought, but I was in a really bad shape after. Broken bones, broken heart. And the pain of the bones was nothing comparing to the one of the heart.

" You're safe here. " I said again, truly thinking it, and willing to make sure of anytime around her. " And you are no longer alone. " I looked at her closer, her sad face, her fragile body, and thought that if she survived until now, then yes, she is a strong lady. One of the strongest for sure. Nevertheless I knew that I will always keep an eye on her. Even if she push me away, thing I was sure she will first try to do. But you don't get ride off me that easy. Perhaps she thought she didn't need it, that she was far better by herself, but I was sure one day she'll realize. Perhaps she was even realizing it right now, while talking quite openly. Everybody needs a family. I learned it, I created mine. Malena is surely the best thing that happened in my life. Sometimes I think that I can't lost her. That she is indestructible, she can't die. Because you know, she's not just a girl, she is my girl, my daughter, my blood.
But no need to be blood to be family.