Fearing the Forbidden
1615 Words
A few hours later, we were shaken awake by Alpha Henry.
"C'mon, lads, it’s time to go," he said, his voice low but firm, carrying the weight of responsibility.
Kaden sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes before pulling Neil toward the bathroom. I started to follow, but Henry’s hand landed gently on my shoulder, holding me back with a quiet but deliberate strength.
I glanced up, confused. "Alpha?"
His expression softened, the usual strictness giving way to something more personal. His voice dropped lower, a quiet murmur meant only for me.
"Dreson, thank ye," he said. "I wasn't sure anyone’d get through to ‘im."
I studied his face, taking in the deep lines of concern etched into his brow. For a moment, there was something unspoken lingering between us—a recognition that Neil had been unreachable, closed off in ways even Henry hadn’t anticipated.
"It's okay, Alpha Henry. I lost my mom, too, so I know he’s hurting," I answered, my voice steady, though a flicker of memory threatened to rise.
Henry shook his head. "That’s not what I mean. He hasn't spoken to anyone else since he was found. I was gettin’ worried, but I didn’t expect ye to handle this the way ye did." He hesitated for a beat, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t worry ‘bout the toys he broke, either. I’ll replace ‘em."
I shrugged, my expression neutral, though the weight of his words settled in my chest. "No, that’s okay. Kaden already broke them a while ago. Besides, Dad says that material stuff is replaceable, but people aren’t. That’s like how Celestia’s my mom, but she doesn’t replace my real mom—she’s just taking over raising me."
Henry’s eyes flickered, a flash of something unreadable passing through them before settling into quiet pride. He nodded slightly, studying me as if seeing something he hadn’t fully noticed before.
"For an eight-year-old, ye're awful clever," he said, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yer father was always a wise man, even when we were in school. Always listen to ‘is advice, ‘cause it’s pointless arguin’ reason."
His words carried an unspoken truth—one that hung in the air between us—as if he was recognizing something in me that even I didn’t fully understand yet.
Looking over his shoulder, I saw Celestia standing in the hall behind him. "Mom..."
"Come here, Dreson," she whispered.
Walking over, I let her pick me up, feeling the warmth of her arms as she held me close. There was a softness in her grip, something deliberately strong, like she needed to feel me there, to be certain of some doubts she was holding onto.
"Is that how you really feel, sweetheart? You don’t think I’m replacing your mom at all?"
"No, I don’t," I murmured, wondering why she was bringing up something I thought we’d already sorted out as a family.
She hugged me tighter, resting her chin against my head for a moment. "Thanks, Dre." Her voice was quiet, carrying something unspoken in it. Then, gently, she set me down. "Now, you and the other two go down to eat while I pack up your suitcases, okay?"
I hesitated for just a second, watching the way her eyes lingered on mine—like she wanted to say more but didn’t. I nodded and turned toward the bathroom. When I got to the door, I heard Kaden talking to Neil. I reached for the handle but stopped, flattening myself against the wall instead, curiosity getting the best of me.
"Dreson wasn’t lying, you know," Kaden said. "He never even got to hear his mommy’s voice."
There was a pause, then the sound of Neil’s breath catching, sharp and sudden. "I—I was so mean to him," he finally choked out. His voice was fractured, weighed down with guilt.
Kaden let out a soft laugh, not cruel, just understanding. "Those toys were broken before. I was mad when he started school, so I beat ‘em up. Daddy made me fix them all and say I was sorry."
Taking a breath, I walked into the bathroom. "Hey, Neil. How are you?"
Biting his lip, he flushed with embarrassment and looked away. "Sorry I ruined your room, Dreson."
"I'm just glad you didn't beat me up," I laughed, hoping to ease the lingering tension.
Neil's face burned red, and I realized what he'd just done. My eyes widened in mock shock. "Did the little Alpha brat just apologize?"
Kaden snorted as Neil's head shot up, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
"You didn't," he muttered darkly, but there was a playful gleam in his gaze, the first flicker of lightness I'd seen from him in days.
Grinning, I nodded and took a slow step back before bolting for the stairs. The sound of heavy footfalls behind me sent a thrill of anticipation through my chest.
"Don’t run in the house!" Celestia called, her voice sharp with warning.
I barely made it to the kitchen before Neil tackled me to the floor, knocking the breath from my lungs. Before I could protest, his fingers dug into my ribs, mercilessly tickling me until laughter burst out of me, uncontrollable and wild.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared up at him. That was when I realized I was more different than people knew.
Neil ran to the table when Dad called out to us, leaving me sitting on the floor in shock. I swallowed hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Licking my lips, I forced myself to my feet and told Dad I had to use the bathroom before slipping out of the room. As I made my way toward the stairs, a chill settled over me. The fear clung to my skin—sharp, invasive, suffocating. I wasn’t just scared.
I was terrified of the feeling. Terrified of the fact that I had found my best friend cute.
One of my grade-school friends had an older brother who liked boys. His parents sent him away. I didn’t want to be sent away. I was only eight years old!
The air felt heavier as I reached the sink, my fingers trembling as I turned the faucet. Water rushed over my hands, cold and steady, grounding me for a moment. I splashed it onto my face, hoping to wash away the thoughts before they could take root.
Kaden suddenly stepped into the bathroom.
"I saw it, Dreson," he said.
I turned, frowning at him. "What do you mean?"
"You didn’t fight back," he said accusingly. "You always tell me to fight back, but you didn’t."
The tension snapped, replaced by laughter before I even realized what I was doing. "I guess not," I said, shaking my head as I walked past him.
By the time I made it downstairs, the weight in my chest had loosened. My brother had distracted me enough to pull me back to reality. I still wasn’t entirely sure of what I felt, but I knew deep down it was real.
I felt something that wasn’t right in the eyes of other people. Suddenly, I felt like a freak. Questions buzzed through my mind. Would Neil still be my friend if he knew? What would Celestia and Dad say about it? Would my brother hate me?
My chest tightened, breath coming in shallow bursts as my mind raced. The fear wrapped around me, suffocating, pressing down like an unseen force. My hands found my hair, pulling and tearing as the build-up of mental pain turned into a torturous trainwreck of thoughts that betrayed my calm.
Trying not to break, I barely registered the strong grip on my arms until my father’s voice cut through the panic. "Dreson, come back to me, kiddo. Come on, son. That's it, focus on my voice. Good job."
I latched onto his words, following them like a thread pulling me from the depths of uncertainty.
"Sorry, Daddy," I whispered. Sounds around me were still faint, like I was hearing them underwater or something.
He shook his head. "I really should take Cece's advice when it comes to you, Dreson. You recall your mom, Tina? Well, she had panic attacks, too, so it's not surprising that you have them. Most cases are hereditary, others are not. Do you remember what I told you what the word hereditary meant?"
"It means passed from parent to child," I replied automatically.
Dad nodded. "Good job. Now, focus on my hand. On the count of three, I'm going to snap my fingers. Remember, this is a Calming spell so just let it happen. Listen for the snap, Dreson. Don’t worry, Daddy will count it in for you, so you just focus."
I nodded, shaking as I stared at the hand he held in front of my face, watching every movement with an almost desperate intensity.
“One.”
His fingers moved slowly, deliberate, a subtle dance of motion. My pulse hammered in my ears, but I focused.
“Two.”
His thumb pressed against his middle finger before slipping upward. The tension in the air felt almost tangible, like the moment before a storm breaks.
“Three.”
The snap was crisp, sharp, cutting through the fog in my mind. A rush of cold spread through me, shocking my senses awake, pushing out the suffocating weight that had settled in my chest. It was as if someone had washed away the bad energy, leaving only clarity behind.
"Is that better, son?" Dad asked, his voice steady, grounding.
I nodded, feeling the tension drain from my body. "Thanks, Daddy."
- Writer
