Chapter 13: Daughter (Indie’s POV)
I remember falling asleep on the couch. I remember Wabara shifting me into his bed as I still slept. I remember him sleeping beside me, both of us taking an afternoon nap. What I don’t remember is having this nightmare in almost an entire month. I sat up against his headboard, feeling extremely embarrassed. I wasn’t even this embarrassed the first time he saw me naked. We’ve both been sitting in silence for a while now.
He got me water and everything when I woke up, panicking from the nightmare. “Jesus, are you all right?” He spoke up, scratching his head while turning to look at me.
I scooted forward and fell back, my head hitting the pillow while I closed my eyes, letting out a puff of air. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream,” I mumbled, dragging my palms down her face. After another fifteen minutes of silence, which I really appreciate him giving me, I calmed down completely. “Anyway,” I mumbled, kicking the covers off. “Now that I’m awake, I should just go home.”
He clicked his tongue before grabbing my arm and pulling me back down. “You’re not going anywhere. And anyway, Moretz told you not to come home. You should wait until she says Caleb’s gone. You want to know what you’re doing instead though?”
I turned to look at him.
“You’re telling me what the fuck just happened. What was that?”
“A nightmare,” I deadpanned.
He rolled his eyes before sighing. “What did you dream about?”
I rolled onto my side, facing him while he did the same, our bodies mirroring each other. “Aren’t you supposed to avoid talking about something when you’re trying to forget it?” I scoffed at him.
“Well… yeah,” he said slowly. “But I want to know. Tell me. You woke me up too, I deserve to know.”
I sighed again and stared at him, contemplating whether I should tell him about this or not. Only Moretz knows, there’s literally nobody else in the world I’ve told.
“Indigo,” he whispered, flicking my nose.
I looked at him.
“Tell me please.”
“Okay,” I mumbled. “When I was ten years old, this one time I went for a sleepover at my friend’s house. She only lived a few blocks down from me. So, the next morning, my parents were supposed to pick me up, right? And then the morning turned into the afternoon and the afternoon turned into the evening and the evening turned into nightfall. And they weren’t showing up.”
Judging from the look on his face, he figured it out right about then. He realized that I was a child who didn’t grow up around her parents. Who was neglected. That I’ve always been alone. Maybe he even figured out that’s why I don’t get emotionally attached to people. Because I always expect them to leave, and everybody so far has proven me right. Except for Moretz.
“Then my friend’s mom told me that my parents were too busy with work to come pick me up. Nobody came to get me and they weren’t dropping me home either. So, I grabbed my bag and I started walking home. And then um… I got hit by a car.” I even winced as I said it. “I wasn’t looking, I was skipping down the street. The couple from our neighborhood that hit me was rushing to the hospital because the woman was in labor. They didn’t have time to call my parents so they just put me in the car and took me to the hospital themselves. I got pretty bruised up. Concussion, fractured ankle, broken nose. That’s why I have a bump on it, see.”
I touched the slightly uneven bridge of my nose. It doesn’t look bad, it looks normal. People don’t notice it unless I point it out.
He looked at it and then back at my eyes. “What happened next?” he asked softly.