Chapter 6 - The Awakening
In the quiet bedroom in Sunset Park, Lily woke up.
She didn't wake up because of a bad dream. She woke up because she heard low, rumbling voices in the kitchen.
She slipped out from beneath her heavy blankets, her bare feet touching the cold wooden floorboards. She crept down the narrow hallway, peering around the doorframe.
Grandma Eleanor was sitting at the table, crying quietly into a tissue. And kneeling beside her chair, holding her hands, was the big man from the warehouse.
His face was clean now, though the faint yellow bruises were still visible around his eyes. He wasn't tied to a chair. He wore a dark wool coat, and he was looking at a photograph on the table—the photograph of the little girl in the yellow dress.
Lily stepped into the kitchen. The floorboard under her foot gave a tiny, familiar squeak.
Dominic froze.
He slowly turned his head. His breath caught in his throat.
There she stood, six years old, wearing pink flannel pajamas decorated with fading bunnies, her dark hair messy from sleep, touching the tiny crescent scar beneath her eye.
“Dominic?” Lily asked softly, rubbing her left eye with her fist. “What are you doing in my house? Did the bad men come back?”
Dominic stood up slowly, as if a sudden movement might cause her to vanish like smoke. He towered over the room, but he made himself small, crouching down until he was at her eye level, just like he had done in the warehouse.
“No, Lily,” Dominic said, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the words. “The bad men aren't here.”
“Why are you crying?” she asked, taking a small step closer. “Grown-up men aren't supposed to cry.”
“My grandma told me that once too,” Dominic whispered, a choked, watery laugh breaking from his lips. He reached into his coat pocket with extreme care and pulled out the old silver star necklace that had belonged to his late wife, Claire—the necklace Eleanor had kept hidden in a tea tin for three years and had just handed back to him.
Lily’s eyes widened. She reached out her small hand, touching the polished silver star.
“I know this,” Lily murmured, her brow furrowing in deep, confused concentration. “I dream about this star. It... it shines when the water gets dark.”
Dominic’s tears spilled over freely now. “It was your mother’s,” he whispered. “She put it around your neck the day you were born.”
Lily looked from the necklace up to Dominic’s face. She looked at his eyes, then down at the photograph on the table, then at Eleanor, who was nodding through her tears.
“Are you... are you the daddy from my dreams?” Lily asked, her voice small, fragile, floating in the quiet kitchen.
Dominic couldn't answer. He simply nodded, opening his arms wide.
May you like
Lily didn't hesitate. She took three quick steps forward and threw her small arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. Dominic pulled her tight against his chest, lifting her off the floor, burying his face in her dark hair, smelling the simple, sweet scent of baby shampoo and strawberry soap.
“I found you,” Dominic sobbed into her hair, holding his entire world in his arms. “I found you, Anna... I found you...”
