The Easy Way Out

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Davina's pov
3:00 p.m.

I've been staring into the mirror for the past hour and a half. Thinking to myself these crazy things. Asking myself questions I don't know the answers to. What do I do from here? What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? What the fuck am I supposed to feel? I feel like I've just been shot in the chest again, right into my goddamn heart. This time more pain aches in my entire being, more pain than I think I've ever endured. My pain has turned physical. My dad has just told me that he, my best friend of a father, is not and never has been my real dad. I know that no matter what, I'm his little girl. I'm his whole entire world.. but I also feel like my entire childhood was a lie. What else do I need to know? Is he the real father of Delilah? If so, was she ever grateful for such a light in her life like I am? Was she ever grateful to know her real dad wanted her? Wanted to be in her life? Wanted to love her? Wanted her to know that he was there?

I know. I do. I know that my dad loves me, he's my real father, blood or not. Though I can't comprehend what it would've been like if I would've been raised by such a man as Micheal. It takes a huge toll on me, now knowing that maybe I would've been dead by ten. Knowing that maybe I wouldn't have managed a life without the only man I've ever loved with my whole being. I feel hurt. I feel betrayed. I feel disgusted. I feel everything all at once, and it makes me angry. I don't know what to do. I just need Willow. I need Xander. I need Kayson, I need him to walk into this room right now. I need him to comfort me. I need him to lie and tell me I'll be okay. I need Xander to know he has a sister. I need him to know that I am his sister. I need Willow to know that she has a sister in law. I need her to know that I am here forever.

"Baby?" I hear Kayson's voice through the bedroom, reading my thoughts. He walks through my bathroom door and immediately stops when he sees me standing in the middle, staring at myself in the mirror. "These aren't the same blue eyes that I had, these are Micheal Hale's blue eyes. These are the eyes I used to love with my whole heart, now they're eyes I wish I could cut out." I see him walk toward me through my peripheral vision, coming behind me and moving my hair out of my face. He looks at me through the mirror, staring into the eyes I hate, giving me a stern look. "You listen to me, Davina. You're a beautiful person. Your whole being is absolutely beautiful. Your blood has nothing to do with you are as a person. Your looks? Sure. Your soul? Fuck no." He laces his fingers through mine, bending down and putting his face next to mine. "Your eyes, Davina. They have something his don't. Your eyes carry so much love and emotion, straying far from the family line you come from. The green spot in this eye," He kisses the temple beside my eye, still giving me a smile. "Is beautiful." He pulls his lips away and looks into the mirror again, but quickly turns me around and puts his hands on my face.

"Don't look at yourself and hate the person in the mirror. Not when you can look at yourself and see what I see." He tilts his head and gives me a big smile. "I see the world in my hands right now. I see you hurting and it makes me want to kill. I see your cheeks get red and feel as if you're not real." He lifts me onto the counter and pushes my hair behind my ears. "I saw your red hair and thought, 'wow, that's my favorite color now'. I see these freckles on your nose and practically crumble to the floor." He furrows his brows and stares into my eyes with a new desperation, with new emotion. "And when I look into your eyes, I feel like I want to live in them forever. I want to drown myself in the icy color that are your eyes. I feel my skin heat up when I stare in them for too long. I feel my heart stutter a little when I see you looking at me like this. I feel an overwhelming sense of hurt when I see tears in them. Your eyes are your eyes, Davina. Your eyes are the most beautiful part of who you are. Don't you dare say you hate them." He puts his forehead against my own, our noses pressed together. "Not when you don't know just how much everyone else loves them. Not when you don't understand the amount of joy it brings everyone to see them open everyday."