I wake up fuzzy. The room is lit with emergency lights. They aren’t bright enough for perfect visibility, but they keep the looming darkness at bay. I’m alone. They’ve obviously got all the creepy peeping out of their systems. I’m no worse for wear, except for my swollen eyes. Guess I was due a round of crying myself to sleep.

Did I overreact? Yes and no. Yes is easy. I shouldn’t have used such excessive volume in an enclosed space. No is problematic. Derry has no right to control me. I haven’t given him any indication it’s what I want. He wants to play tugboat, me towed along behind him. It’s not working for me. My tinder heart has neither the desire to chase nor the desire to be chased. What does it want? Hmm. That’s where the problematic part comes in. It wants the one standing at the finish line holding a cool glass of water, offering support without interference. Derry isn’t that someone.

Surprisingly, it’s my father who braves a tomb temperature test. As he climbs down the ladder, dread clenches my stomach. He’s been consumed by my mother for weeks, and let’s face it, the man isn’t renowned for his conversational skills. What bad news is he bringing?

“May I sit?” he poses politely.

I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my shins.

“When someone doesn’t tell you what they want, you have to do your best to give them what you assume they need. Truth is, you have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, no matter how well you believe you know someone.”

Yeah, assumptions are garbage.

“I’ve spent your whole life trying to do right by your mother. Every choice I made was one I thought she’d make. What I should’ve been doing was spending your whole life trying to do right by you.”

I bury my face so he can’t see the tears forming.

“I understand more now. I understand how your feelings influenced my feelings and how the feelings of everyone around you influenced you, but you need to understand something, too.” He tames the unruly strands of my bedhead. “Those people up there care an awful lot about you. Knowing them at the base of who they are, with their emotions as confirmation, doesn’t mean they know you. They can’t read your mind. You have to let them in. That’s the only way they’re getting it right. You have to let them get it right where I couldn’t.”

I lift my head to let him see my tear-stained cheeks. “You got it right just fine, Dad.”

“You were always more independent than not.” He half-smiles. “There wasn’t anything you couldn’t do for yourself, and while I’m proud of the young woman you’ve become, you don’t have to take on the world by yourself anymore.”

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“I’m not trying to take on the world by myself,” I grumble. “I just need some fresh air.”

“There’s plenty of air here,” he refutes. “The air isn’t the issue. It’s that you need to stop and take a breath.”

He’s right. I’ve been pushing myself hard, not for a second forgetting we might very well be thrust into a war between the Sumairs and Solathairs. Let’s not forget the third side, our chosen side. That means two potential enemies we need to defend humanity from. My family, especially Derry, have worked tirelessly to give us the most protection possible. Instead of basking in the break and taking a deep breath when the opportunity presented itself, I’m complaining about confinement.

My impending explosion is a persistent worry. Hurting people is my biggest transitional fear, so they gave me a way to eliminate that fear. Did I appreciate it? Nah, I reacted epically poorly, heavy on the Derry end of that.

“It’s okay to want space, Sheyla. We all want space, and you need it more than most. This place isn’t a jail. You can come and go freely. No locks. On my honor, it’s a sanctuary. It’s where you can separate yourself from everyone.”

I stare blanks.

“Let me ask you this. Do you feel any feelings right now? Aside from mine?”

I feel nothing but his determination. He wants to talk me down from the hill I’ve made camp on. “No,” I concede.

“Give them a chance,” he suggests. “Let them help you like I never could.”

I sigh.

“You’re more like your mother than you realize.” That gets my attention. “She’s just as stubborn as you when it comes to doing the things she wants. Nothing slows her down.”

I slowed her down, and she passed her curse to me. Now she’s in a weird limbo. “Is this worse?”

“Is what worse?”

She’s completely spaced out. It’s like we’re still waiting for her to wake up. “Having her awake but not really here. Is it worse?”

“No, Sheyla,” he assures me. “This exceeds my expectations, and I have you to thank for it.”

How did we get here when it’s clear he cares so deeply about her? Did she run around on him? Does he have any idea? If he’s unaware, it may change how he feels about me. About her. Does he have a right to know he isn’t my biological father? Will he forgive us for keeping my paternity a secret?

“How did you meet her?”

His eyes glaze over. “That was so long ago. I can’t seem to remember.”

“Did you know what would happen to her if she continued with the pregnancy?”

“I supported her. She made the right call.”

“Did you know she was a Solathair?”

“I don’t remember any of that,” he admits. “I remember being worried...then you were coming. She was begging me to take care of you. We were running...to the hospital. You were born. I must have thrown out a lot of memories to make room for new ones.”

“You wanted me,” I murmur.

“Of course I wanted you.” He surprises me by wrapping me in his arms. I surprise myself by letting him. “It’s fine to want to be by yourself. Just remember, it’s an island for vacation. No one stranded you here.”

Moving forward, being alone will be my choice. Never again will losing control be a burden I fear. My multipurpose tomb will be my resting place, functioning as a bomb shelter and deprivation chamber, whatever I need it for at the time. Not a prison cell. A paradise. Perspective. It’s a funny thing.

“Uh, Sheyla?” He coughs awkwardly.

“Hmm?”

“Did you do something different with your hair?”

I giggle. “Brody gave me a makeover.”

He nods approvingly. “He worked you over good.”

I smile brightly. “He really did.”

Yeah, perspective is a funny thing.