Page 16 of Stryker
Stryker made me too comfortable. He was too easy to talk to. Before I could stop myself, the words began to come out, bubbling at first, then just flooding too fast to halt.
“I was mad at him for never being the adult.” For the first time in my life, I let the words flow. Sure, I’d aired some of my grievances with my father to his face, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. The weight of everything I’d been holding back became too much to hold in.
Stryker’s arm shifted from the back of the couch to around my shoulder and the contact warmed me to the soul.
“Everything falls on me. Everything. The cooking, the cleaning, the working. I have to take care of my mother. She’s sick, you know.” I wasn’t mad at Mom for being ill. I knew she didn’t choose it, that she couldn’t help it. “Her depression was always there, but it’s just gone downhill. And I feel guilty. Maybe if I worked more or had better jobs I could get her better healthcare than the basic state coverage that’s not really mental-health friendly.” Sure, state care covered her meds, but I wanted her to actually be able to spend time in facilities with trained staff when she refused to eat. I wanted her to have the kind of help I just couldn’t give at home. I hated myself for not being able to work hard enough to really give her everything she needed to be happy and in the best place she could be in mentally. She needed stability. Hell, she needed feeding tubes for those days when she refused to eat.
His silence was comforting, encouraging me to keep talking.
“I feel like I’m counting days. One of these days I’m going to go into her room and beg her to eat and she’s just not going to be breathing.” That fear, unvoiced until now, haunted my every waking moment. The first visit to her room every morning terrified me.
He nodded, as though he understood. It seemed like he did. Like he could relate.
“I work two jobs, but I’m treading water. I literally juggle bills. I have to ask myself every month who I can put off, who I have to pay and search for new ways to stretch every dollar. If literally anything changes, I’m in trouble.” When my monthly bus pass had gone up two dollars, I’d had to cut corners elsewhere. I’d taken an already meager budget and looked to see where I could cut some imagined luxury. It was soul sucking to try to squeeze pennies from thin air. “I don’t get Starbucks. I don’t spend money on anything non-essential. I visit food banks and local churches cover my hygiene needs. It’s depressing.”
“And you’re still fighting. That’s damn impressive.” He spoke with a reverence that stunned me. I had no doubt he believed what he said, and my heart squeezed. Here I’d spent so much time doubting myself and being mad that I couldn’t do more, but he was highlighting what I’d accomplished instead of berating me like I did in my own mind.
I rested my cheek on his arm, and he held me a little tighter. The contact, so relaxing and comforting scared me even more. “I feel so trapped.” The second I said the words, I felt awful. My chest compressed painfully, a spiny lump prickled my throat and cut off my air and tears stung like scummy pond water in my eyes. I wiped at the tears. “I hate myself for that,” I whispered. “But it’s true.”
“I think you forgot something.”
I wanted to look at him, but I didn’t want him to know I was crying. I could hope he didn’t notice, but if I looked at him, there was no way to hide it. “What did I forget?” I asked when he didn’t follow it up with what he thought I’d forgotten.
“You’re human.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re a dragon.” I chuckled. Never in a million years would I have believed this would be my life. I wasn’t entirely convinced I wasn’t dead and this was hell. Or that I’d somehow stumbled into some homeless man’s fever dream—because it was that brand of crazy.
“I’m not kidding around. You’re fucking human. You’re allowed to be angry at the shitty hand you’ve been dealt.” He sounded almost angry himself, and I forgot to hide my tears when I looked at him over my shoulder. He stared out the window into the sunshine and continued to talk. “You’ve been through some shit. You’ve fought battles no one can even dream of. Quit being so hard on yourself.”
His rust-colored eyes ticked to mine.
“I can’t help it.” I swallowed hard as his eyes narrowed. The heat in them stunned me and I wondered if he’d been pulling my leg about not being able to breathe fire because I could feel the heat.
“You need to try. Cut yourself a little slack. It’s okay to be angry, upset, or feel it’s all unfair. Because it fucking is. Life is shit sometimes. If we don’t let that out once in a while, we’ll wind up on a tower shooting strangers.” His anger shone through and I saw him soul to soul for a second. He’d seen some shit too. I recognized it like two battle-scarred soldiers would recognize one another.
“Thank you.”
He jerked a shoulder up. “For what?”
“For saying what I needed to hear. For not sugar-coating things. For not patting me on the head and telling me it’ll get better.” I appreciated that he’d leveled with me. That he didn’t just give me the same canned answers I always heard in terrible movies that made me roll my eyes. He’d spit the truth and I loved that, even though the message wasn’t exactly positive or uplifting. I preferred this gritty realism. I shifted in my seat, snuggling into his side a bit more as he held onto me. For a moment, I could pretend I was normal. That I was just a girl sitting close to the guy she had a crush on. I could pretend for a second that I was like everyone else.
“You’re welcome. I think.” He flashed a handsome grin at me, and I relaxed a bit more.
“So could I ride you like a horse?” I glanced at him over my shoulder and he gave me an odd look. “When you’re in dragon form, I mean.”
“I’m uncomfortable with that segue.” He chuckled. “I guess you could. No one’s ever ridden me before. In dragon form, anyway.”
I blushed and didn’t address the nuance of his words. “That surprises me. So what does it feel like? To change, I mean?” I studied him as his brows lifted slightly.
“It’s what I imagine those old torture devices that stretched people felt like.”
“The ones where they’d put your arms and legs in and crank the wheel until it ripped off your limbs?” I shuddered.
He nodded. “Or being drawn and quartered. It’s fucking painful. But it’s a rush, too. The adrenaline chases the pain away pretty quickly.”
“Are there female dragons?” I watched him closely.
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed like he was on to my line of questioning.
