Stalked by the Gods, Blessed by the Moon

Ch. 4 - What's in the box?

AYLA’S POV

My mouth was dry as cotton, and my head was pounding. I slowly opened my eyes, flinching as rays of sun from my window beat down my face. Damn, I must have had quite a night, I thought. I sprung up, quickly remembering the night before. The three college guys, including the guy in the bathroom named Aaron.

I looked around to see that I was, in fact, at my place. But how had I gotten here? I didn’t remember getting in a car or being carried up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. No, it was almost as if I was teleported here. Seeing as I was home safely, I wasn’t sure who to thank. Maybe Jake?

I grabbed my phone to see half a dozen missed calls. All from Jake. I pulled open a text thread from him and saw that he was anxious about where I was because I left my purse behind at the bar and didn’t tell him goodbye when I left. Okay, so it wasn’t Jake who got me home. Then I guess it was that guy Aaron in the bathroom.

I listened carefully, wondering if maybe Aaron had come home with me. But I didn’t hear anything in my small apartment—just silence, as any other morning would be. I looked back at my phone, seeing that Jackie had also texted me a couple of times. I rolled my eyes as I opened the text thread.

It started with apologies, justifications for her actions, and more apologies. It ended with saying she’d give me time to sort through my feelings because she knew our friendship meant more to me than some guy. I snorted as I deleted her texts and blocked her. Then, for good measure, I blocked Jordan, too. I didn’t need those two losers in my life.

It’s my birthday now, officially, so I have no work today and will meet Dad for dinner at his house. At least I have something to look forward to. I love my dad. Before, I would say that he was one of the greatest people in my life, but now I’d say he’s the greatest, not just one of them. He was an amazing person and a fantastic dad. I loved him.

My mom passed away before I could remember her well. I had vague memories in nightmares that made no sense that I worked to repress. None of it made sense, and when I first went to my dad about them, he assured me they were just dreams that had no meaning.

Being as my dad was my sole caregiver, my rock, and my foundation, I believed him and instead worked to ignore the nightmares and what felt like distant memories buried deep in my brain. I didn’t remember before age five and wasn’t interested in learning more about that time.

A ding on my phone had me checking it again and seeing that my dad had sent his usual birthday text. But then he added that dinner needed to be early and before sundown tonight. Weird. Maybe he finally had a date. I always encouraged him to get out there and find someone, but he insisted he wasn’t lonely and that being my dad was satisfying enough in this world.

As I said, my dad is the greatest person in my life and is fantastic. There’s nothing on this Earth that could make me question him.

*****

“Happy birthday, Pumpkin,” my dad hugged me tightly.

I laughed, pulling out of his massive hug. My dad was a big guy—around 6’2” and burly. But strangely enough, I feel like I remembered Aaron being larger than him, which would be a first. No one ever surpassed the size of my dad. I shook my head, putting Aaron out of my mind, who had flittered through multiple times today.

“Why the cryptic plans today, Dad? You said we needed to have dinner before sundown like something weird is supposed to happen when the sun sets,” I said, laughing. “You finally get a date?”

My dad’s eyes darted away. “Come in, Pumpkin. We need to talk.”

I followed him into his home, the same home where I was raised my entire life. The walls were covered in photos of me and some of my dad. Not a single picture showed my mom, and my dad stated that my mom wasn’t one for pictures and never took any. Again, I just chalked it up to the truth and didn’t question it. My dad would never lie to me.

When we got to the kitchen, the breakfast nook table had a large wooden box on top. It was obviously old and almost looked like something out of a movie—a treasure chest. I smiled, looking at my dad. “What’s that? My birthday present?”

My dad didn’t return my mirth. Instead, he gestured for me to sit in the seat in front of the box, which I did, looking at him curiously. “Is everything okay, Dad?”

He sat across from me, getting comfortable in his chair before finally looking at me. His eyes didn’t hold the usual jovial spark he had. Instead, it was replaced with concern. A look I hadn’t seen since I told him I was going to a beach house with friends after prom. No, I never did anything to worry my dad when I was younger, staying on the straight and narrow instead and knowing that being a single dad was hard enough without a rebellious daughter out to shorten his life span. No, instead, I’d been a daddy’s girl who had done everything he ever asked of me. So, him looking at me with so much concern was troubling.

“Open the box.”

I looked at him before slowly opening the box. I half expected a dust cloud to burst from it based on its creaking sound. But nothing of the sort. Instead, what greeted me was yellow papers. A lot of yellow papers. I shifted a couple aside and saw photos of a woman holding an infant.

I started ruffling through, not paying attention that I wasn’t alone as I did so. There were multiple photos of the woman, who eerily reminded me of myself. Then I saw the photos—one of me as a toddler, sitting in the corner of a room, smiling at the camera. I knew it was me. I was five, and I recognized myself.

The room didn’t look familiar, though. It looked like somewhere in a log cabin. And I was sitting next to a pile of dolls, playing with them, when the picture was taken. “What is this?”

“Those are…photos of you and your mother. And letters from your mother to me about you. When she left…with you…”

I slammed the chest closed, not bothering to grab the papers I knew were letters. “What are you talking about?”

My dad closed his eyes, his mouth set in a straight line. “I’m so sorry, Ayla. I lied to you for so long about your mother, but with the sun setting soon…I’m going to have to give you the short version.”

“The short version of what?”

“Of what and who you are.”

I gulped. “What am I?”