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“Yes, but—”
“That’s not lying then,” she says, cutting me off, and resuming the steady sway of her feet beneath her. “That’s just you not liking what I said.”
Someone drops something in the other room, the unexpected thud drawing her attention toward the door. I, however, suddenly can’t seem to look away.
“How old did you say you are?”
She spins back to face me, her hair whipping me in the face. Strawberries. She smells like strawberries. The scent floods my nose, suddenly making the air more tolerable.
“I turned six on Saturday.” Daphne smiles proudly, sitting up a little straighter. I don’t know why, but the sight has the corners of my mouth twitching upward. “I wanted a unicorn, but my mommy said no and said I have to stop asking for ree-di-clus stuff.” She slowly stumbles over the word. “I don’t think unicorns are reediclus. I think they’re magic.” Her eyes sparkle at the mention of the mythical creature.
I want to point out that unicorns aren’t actually real, but for the first time in my life, I bite my tongue. If anything, I find myself thoroughly annoyed with her mother. If I’d asked my mom for a unicorn, she would have hired a herd of horses to parade through our backyard with faux horns taped to their heads. Her mom’s first instinct was to shame her? That’s rich, coming from the grown adult who forgot to register her kid for kindergarten.
“Just think,” she continues, “if you had a unicorn, you could tell him your wishes. And if you’re really good, he’ll keep them safe for you until they come true.”
“What would you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you! Then they won’t come true. I have to keep them secret.”
“Are you even able to keep a secret, given how much you talk?” I chuckle, but it quickly dies in my throat when I notice her visibly deflate.
“Mommy says I talk too much. I’m supposed to practice being quiet.”
An unknown sensation tugs at my chest, and my feelings surrounding Daphne’s mother quickly shift from annoyance to genuine dislike.
“Hey, no. I’m… I’m sorry.” I raise my hand, awkwardly hovering it just above her shoulder before making contact in an attempt to comfort her. She looks up at me, and even though her eyes shine with unshed tears, she forces a smile. I absentmindedly rub at the center of my chest, the previous feeling of unease slowly morphing to one of radiating warmth. “I’m Daniel, by the way. But my mom calls me Nicky.”
Her smile widens a little further, exposing two perfectly symmetrical dimples in her cheeks. “Hi, Nicky,” she whispers.
“Daphne!” a voice snaps from several feet away.
She pops up from her seat, back ramrod straight, and the sight has an overwhelming urge to protect this little girl surging within me. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but I move to stand, prepared to position myself in front of her. However, before I’m able to intervene, Daphne turns to face me. She reaches forward to take hold of my hand, and I surprisingly don’t flinch away.
“Daphne Guinevere Burke,” her mother hisses in warning. “Now, young lady!”
Daphne glances back at her, her small hand tightening around my own, before her big green eyes lock with mine a final time. “I’m sorry about your mommy, Nicky.”
She’s probably the hundredth person to offer me condolences today, but hers is without a doubt the first to be genuine.
Daphne delivers a final squeeze before releasing me to scamper off toward the scowling woman at the door. Her mother snatches her hand as soon as she’s in arms’ reach, and before I’m able to crane my neck to catch one more glimpse, she’s gone.
CHAPTER 1
NOW
NICKY – Age 25
The tortured screams of the sack of shit strung up behind me pierce the air as Rico drags the hot iron of the fireplace poker down his chest. Ignoring him, I sort through the wide variety of tools laid out before me, perusing my options for what’s next on the agenda for our guest.
He continues to cry like a little bitch, alternating between pleading for mercy and praying for God. It’s pointless. If he’s desperate for a few more moments amongst the living, his efforts would be better served conserving his energy rather than wasting his breaths seeking salvation.
If God’s real, he sure as fuck won’t be found here.
In this space, there’s only room for one higher power—me, Nicky C. At the moment, I am three things.
Judge.
Jury.
