Fairy Rings

5. Father

The fire in the fireplace seemed to blaze hotter as the two gazed into each other's eyes, seeming to forget where they were different than in each other's presence. "How did you know where I was?" Navaeha asked. Her friend, still lost in the vast twinkling of her eyes, blinked for a second, his brows furrowing.

"What was that young lady?" He asked, his voice a low mutter. He couldn't help but curse himself as his eyes trailed down her bundled body.

"How did you find me?" She asked again; this time, he tried not to let his mind wander. He almost couldn't help himself when he noticed how her tank top hung on her body like it was made for someone else and how it was covered in dirt that just one quick pat would get off. The curve of her small, slender frame looked like it would break in his big, strong hands. "Can I at least know your name now?" He snapped out of his dreamy haze for a moment to find her big green eyes still gazing up at him, her lips so perfect it made him weak in the knees. "I can't keep calling you my random coffee date now. . ." this little girl was trying to make small talk; he had just killed two people, and this girl was trying to make small talk like it was an everyday occurrence. She was her father's daughter; he could see the resemblance in her hair and in the way she walked and talked; even the way she took a deep and drawn-out breath was identical to the horror that awaited them in her mother's bedroom. He ground his teeth hard; how was he going to answer her? Her gaze towards him was a captivating blend of curiosity and amazement, powerful enough to create an intimidating aura around her.

"Well, it depends. Which name would you like to know?" He got closer, towering over her almost with a slight smirk. She smelled like roses and honeybread, maybe he thought. If I took a bite, would she crumble like freshly baked bread, or would she crunch like toast with coffee?

"What's a name I can call you?" Navaeha snuggled into his lap a bit more. He couldn't help it anymore; a soft chuckle escaped his lips as she folded her arms like all disgruntled teenagers and huffed. Her eyes were still studying his face.

Why is it so hard?

"A name that you can call me?" He asked. Relaxing into the couch, he put a hand on his chin and thought for a moment that telling her his actual name couldn't hurt. All of his names at once wouldn't hurt either. Glancing back down to meet her gaze, he gently touched her face. Caressing her gently. "When we're alone, you can call me Ambrosia, my actual name. What His Excellency calls me is a Mutt; the women call me an Ogre. . ." Watching the confusion wash across her face as if a bucket spilled there, Ambrosia looked around to make sure no one was watching them.

Her hands, which were warm under the covers, quickly surfaced to pull his hand off her face; although she liked the attention, she didn't think it was appropriate. "Ambrosia? That's a lovely name; why haven't you told me it before?" Sitting up slowly, she pulled the blanket down and turned to face him on the couch. "Who named you that?" Fixing her hair was an easy feat; the heavy footsteps that sounded through the kitchen only to stop were not. Chills ran up her back as she dare not turn her head, fear encapsulating her from even moving, though she wanted to run screaming out the door.

"Ah," A voice emerged, the sound of dropping tools clattered on the floor as well as the sound of her mother's dishrags. "Finally." Scared stiff, Nevaeha didn't even have time to step away or struggle before someone grabbed her arm harshly and spun her around to see them, the blanket falling to the ground as she was quickly yanked from the couch. The terrifying, black man that towered over her took a few moments to glance over the outfit she was wearing and then cast a glare at Ambrosia, "You filthy Mutt. . . Once this is over, you can expect her not to be slutty wearing outfits like this." The scary man brushed the dirt off her outfit as if she were a child and smiled at her. To Navaeha, it felt neither sincere nor warm. "I knew you were here."

"Who are you? Why are you here?" she asked, her voice choking out the words like there weren't any to be spoken. Pulling her arm away, she stopped when the grip only tightened.

"Who am I? I'm your father, of course. I think your generation calls them dad." He laughed loudly as her eyes got wide, the realization setting on her that her mother was right. Her father was evil. "You're looking at me like I'm the devil, kiddo." His bright smile shining in the firelight was all she needed to muster a little strength. After all her mother's stories, the ones she rolled her eyes at and the ones she discarded, thinking her father had just abandoned them, she finally was face to face with an actual devil. Whispering something under her breath, she spit on his shirt. A hard and heavy hand came across her face, the fresh tingling of pain flooding her body, but it was already too late. Patting the fire that now blazed on his shirt, he let go of her arm to quickly remove his blazing clothes. The oil and gasoline fumes from the bedroom and the hallway ignited in a wild fury as she darted up the steps, her father darting to her mother's bedroom. Starstruck, Ambrosia sat there momentarily before hurtling himself towards the stairs and into her bedroom to catch her halfway out the window. Raising his fist back, he stopped