right now.
Well, mine doesn’t suck. It’s hard, sure, but I’m happy. I’ve never been happier than I’ve been since I gave in to Shidan.
God knows I didn’t want to. I thought he was a creeper when we first met. I snort and shake my head remembering how I was back then. Wow. I was a total bitch. I can’t believe he didn’t give up on me.
He probably would have if the Zmaj weren’t all about fated mates. I don’t know about that, but I do know I love him. Isn’t that enough?
Of course loving him isn’t easy. Love never is, I suppose.
I love him so much I can’t imagine life without him, for one. And that is why I’m pacing the floor, staring out the window, and barely keeping my shit under control. I clench my teeth, spin on my heel, and start across the room in the opposite direction again. And again. And again.
Damn it, Shidan, where are you?
Dark thoughts keep sliding in, and I do my best to push them away, but every time I make it across the room it becomes harder to resist. They come faster. And faster. And darker.
At first, he’s hurt, but now, they’re worse. What if he is… no. I’m not thinking that. He’s fine. He got tied up, that’s all. He’ll come in that door any minute, and the moment he does, I’m going to kill him. Then I’m going to love him, and then I’m never letting him out that door again.
The suns drop lower still. It’s almost night. The last rays of dusk stretch across the mostly empty space of our living room. That’s it. I can’t stay in here any longer doing nothing. It’s time for action.
“Malcolm,” I say. “Get a water container.”
“How come, Mommy?” he asks as he drops out of the chair that’s too big for him still and walks to the cabinet.
“We’re going to go help your daddy,” I say.
Malcolm stops, staring at the floor in front of his feet, his shoulders slumped.
“Okay,” he says, then he moves again.
“Is something wrong, honey?” I ask.
“No,” Malcolm says, then pulling a waterskin out and going over to the tank of water we keep.
“You’re sure?” I ask, walking over and kneeling next to him as he fills the skin.
“Yes, Mommy,” he says, but he’s not looking at me.
I touch his shoulder and he turns his head to look. He’s frowning, and there’s worry in his eyes.
“What is it?” I ask.
He shakes his head, then drops his eyes to the floor.
“I don’t know, Mommy,” he says. “It’s something, but I don’t know what, yet.”
“You’re worried, baby,” I say, pulling him into a tight embrace. I rub his back as I crush him to my chest. “It’s fine. I’m scared too.”
“You are?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say. “Even mommies and daddies get scared, Malcolm. You know what the secret to handling fear is?”
“No.”
“You do something about it,” I say, setting him back down. “Instead of sitting around worrying and being scared, figure out something you can do about that fear. Then get into action. That’s what we’re going to do. Okay?”
“Yes!” he says, brightening.
“Good. You and me, kiddo,” I say tousling his hair. “We’re going to go help your daddy.”
“Yay!” he says, returning his attention to the waterskin.
Once we have water for the two of us, I grab the shock-stick from a shelf, and we head out. The shock-stick doesn’t have any charge left in it but the weight of it in my hand feels right. We’re going to be in the City, and in theory it’s as safe as can be, but I don’t run on theories. We’re talking about the safety of my son.
Outside it’s hotter, as usual. The streets are empty. It’s so oddly quiet. Strange how you get used to a certain level of background noise. It’s never been the level I was used to on the generation ship from before the crash, but it was there. On the ship there was the constant white-noise of the engines, creaking of the steel exterior, and the buzz of people. The City background noise has always been one of working and the soft hum of conversations.
Now it’s too quiet. Creepily so.
I take Malcolm’s hand. He’s unusually somber too. Normally when we go outside, he’s a bundling ball of energy, and it’s all I can do to keep him halfway under control. He’ll run ahead leaping up onto the walls and then gliding to the far side of the street. Anything