"Uncle Justin?" I called as I quietly crept into his room.
No answer.
"Uncle Justin?" I understood that it was 1:00 am and he was asleep but I really needed answers to questions I had on my heart and I had finally mustered all the courage needed to ask and I was not about to chicken out.
He began to stir but did not wake up. I got frustrated at that point.
"Uncle Justin, I really need to talk to you!" I said a bit louder but careful enough not to be too loud and make him angry.
"What is it Adani?" He finally said but showed no signs of being awake as he still lay down with his eyes closed.
I moved to the side of the bed where his face faced. Being 13 years old, I was still a little short, so our eyes met almost immediately he opened his. Even when he was half asleep, he still managed to look dangerous and dominant. Being under his dominant gaze was nerve racking. An amount of courage slipped out of my grasp and I lowered my eyes and blinked them rapidly desperately holding onto the little bit of courage left in me. I shifted from leg to leg unable to stand still. After seconds of gathering up the remaining bravery left, I cleared my throat and set the words lose.
"I wanted to ask you something if you don't mind." I wondered how he made looking dominant look so easy. I was on the edge of chickening out but those questions banged on the door of my heart begging to be answered.
"Go ahead." His eyes struggled to stay open but he kept them open to show me he was present.
"Well I-I wanted to ask if um, you um" It was finally time to ask but it felt like the temperature in the room had gone up a couple of degrees. That was the first time I asked my uncle a question related to my scar. No wonder I was so nervous. I did not want him to get angry and refuse to answer the question. I was also scared of the answer that he would give me. His face scrunched up to a look of annoyance and I knew if I do not form clear words out of the list of letters in my brain, I would never have another oppurtunity to ask him this question again.
"Spit it out kid." His voice was filled with annoyance and huskiness. Signs that he would fall back asleep unless I ask him now.
Adani.
"I just wanted to ask if you knew what happened. I mean my scar. Like do you know who did it, or how it happened, or why it happened?" A frisson of nervousness overtook me as I heard the words I just blurted out. I masked the nervous look on my face and continued. "Because I don't remember the cut happening but I had been getting these dreams or nightmares of a knife with blood dripping off of it and I don't know whether or not it has anything to do with the scar. I don't remember what happened so I thought you would know something. Anything. I know you didn't do it. Don't worry. I just really want to know and I'm assuming you know who did." I said quickly. I did not know whether or not he would actually answer because that was a big ask.
Adani.
"Why do you assume I know?" He looked genuinely curious. My answer to that question could go many ways. I could answer strategecally and wisely and get my answer or I could answer it using the first thing that comes to my head. I had about 3 seconds to structure my answer wisely and I used those 3 seconds effectively.
"Um. I-Well, considering the fact that you've been the one taking care of me the whole time, I just thought..." My voice faded as I neared the end of the sentence. I felt like I had just wasted those 3 seconds. I was scared of his response.
YOU ARE READING
The Wooden Mask
General FictionTwo individuals facing trauma have to allow themselves to love and be loved. One, a dancer whose identity has never been seen. The other, a business man with a rough past. Where will this journey of love lead them? Just know that, everyone wears a...