Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 65

**KACIA**

“So what happened?” I press.

“He kept coming. All through my pregnancy. Always careful, but he was there. He held you after you were born. He was at the hospital and everything, although I think the whole place freaked him out. He was there when it mattered. And the night I brought you home, that was the first time he ever stayed a whole night. I swear he barely put you down the whole time.” My mother sighs sadly. 

“And then?” Oz asks, clearly engrossed in the story. 

“Then one day, maybe a week after… Nothing. He stopped coming. No goodbye. No message. He just vanished.” Mum drops her eyes to the floor. 

“So he abandoned us.” I say flatly. Mum looks up, her eyes flaring with sudden fire. 

“No. He didn’t!” She insists. 

“You JUST said he left and never came back.” I argue. 

“I said he disappeared. I know he didn’t leave us on purpose. He loved you!” Mum says firmly.

“You don’t know that.” I answer quietly. It hurts to think about it. I never even MET my father. If he wanted to be in my life, surely he would have found a way. Hell, I’ve never even had so much as a letter! My mother’s hand slams against the table with a sharp crack, I flinch, startled. My mum leans forward, voice low and fierce.

“If you had seen his face the first time he held you, you would know. That man looked at you like you were the moon, Kacia. Like you were everything. He loved you. He didn’t leave us. Something happened to him.” She insists. The room falls silent again. The only sound is the faint clink of my mum’s mug as she picks it up again and takes a sip, but her hands are trembling now. I swallow, then sit back slowly. I want to believe her… But I have a lifetime of reasons not to. Still… Whoever my father was, he had to have done something right to win my mother over so thoroughly. And he knew about me, my father. He always has. So if he wanted me gone, he would have done something before now. Which leaves…

“Do you think his father, my… Grandfather… Found out? About me I mean…” I ask. My mother goes still.

“I think that if he had… He wouldn’t have approved. And if he’s anything like I suspect… He would’ve done everything in his power to undo what he would see as a… Mistake.” She says quietly. Inod slowly. 

“So that’s probably it then. He knows I exist.” I sigh. Oz squeezes my hand again reassuringly and I cling to it tightly. I doubt that he has any idea how much he is holding me together right now. The words fly out of my mouth before I even realise what I’m saying.

“What was his name?” I blurt out. Mum looks up from her tea, eyes softening. She doesn’t hesitate. 

“Kasian.” She answers. I blink. 

“Kasian?” I repeat. She nods, smiling faintly. 

“He told me his full name once, but… I don’t remember the rest. It was complicated and long and I couldn’t pronounce it properly. He said it didn’t matter to him. That Kasian was enough.” She says fondly. I stare at her. 

“So I’m named after him?” I ask. How did I not know this? Another nod. 

“Yes. You are.” She answers easily. I sit with that for a long moment, unsure how I feel. Kasian. Kacia. I always thought it was just a name Mum liked. Turns out it’s something more than that. It feels a little weird, like my name is barely even mine. Then again, I guess it’s… Nice, that I have SOMETHING of his. 

“Why? Why name me after him?” I ask, frowning. Mum looks at me like I’ve asked a deeply stupid question. 

“Because he loved you. And I loved him. And naming you after him was the only way I could make sure a piece of him stayed with me.” She responds. My heart twists uncomfortably. I want to argue, want to say that he doesn’t deserve that kind of loyalty. But the truth is… I don’t know. Not really. I clear my throat. 

“Do you… What do you think happened to him?” I ask softly. Mum’s face changes then. She goes still, quiet. She places her mug down carefully and looks at her hands. 

“I don’t know, Sweetpea. I’ve wondered for years. I used to think maybe he was scared off, or that he changed his mind. But with how much he wanted you?” She looks up, eyes shining. 

“I can’t imagine anything short of death would’ve kept him from being your father.” She answers sadly. Something about the way she says it, so certain, so full of that quiet heartbreak she rarely lets show… Well it makes my stomach turn. I believe her. I don’t want to, but I do. Because the alternative, the version where he chose to leave, always sat too easily in my head. It fits too well. Because I made it fit. And now I have to admit that maybe I’ve been wrong for a long time.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of tea refills and overbearing motherly fussing. Mum checks my cuts, clucks her tongue at the bruises, and tries to feed me about five bowls of soup, which I manage to politely decline after the first three. Eventually she gives in to my protests and declares that I need proper rest. 

“In your own bed, with no distractions, and no getting into trouble for at least two days.” She says firmly, giving Oz a very deliberate look. He just holds up his hands in surrender, like the innocent bystander he most certainly is not. I hug her tight before we go, wincing as her arms brush against my sore ribs. 

“Come visit sooner next time.” She says into my hair.

“I will.” I answer. And I mean it, it’s been too long. I’ve missed her. She lets it go. We’re back in the car before I realise I’ve gone quiet. I’m driving and my hands are tense on the wheel. Oz glances at me as we pull away from the curb.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly. I look at him, confused. 

“For what?” I ask. 

“For everything. For keeping secrets. For being part of this. For… All of it.” He says guiltily. I sigh. 

“It’s okay.” I murmur, though it isn’t really. Not completely. But I don’t have the energy to hold it against him right now. 

“You told me the truth. That’s what matters.” I decide. He’s quiet for a moment.

“Why didn’t you ever ask before? About your father?” Oz asks. I focus on the road. The answer is easy. The words are not.

“Because it was easier.” I say finally, voice barely above a whisper.

“Easier to believe he was an ass who abandoned us. That he didn’t care. That he walked away and never looked back.” I pause. Oz doesn’t respond. I don’t need him to. I know he’s listening.

“If I believed he was a coward or a jerk, then I didn’t have to miss him, didn’t have to wonder. Didn’t have to hope he would come back someday.” I continue. I press back into my seat like I could disappear.

“I’ve spent my whole life building walls around that idea. That he left. That it was better this way.” I admit. Oz reaches over, his hand lands on my thigh and he squeezes it reassuringly. 

“I get it. Hope can be a dangerous thing.” He says gently. I nod. 

“Yeah. It can.” I agree. We drive the rest of the way in silence. Neither of us says it, but we’re both thinking the same thing now. If Kasian, my father, really did love me… If he really was a good man… Then whoever took him away from us might just be the same person trying to take me out next.