The Outcast's Rebirth

CHAPTER 28: The Ties That Bind

The air between Kyzzu and Kazi was heavy, the silence charged with unease. Winston, after setting his son down, left the small cottage without a word, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.

  The room suddenly felt suffocating, its walls pressing in on the seventeen-year-old, Kyzzu, who sat slumped on the bed, his body frail and hollow. Across from him, the little boy stood, a bundle of uncertainty and innocence, his small hands clutching the edge of his shirt.

Kazi—or Ethan, as Winston called him—fidgeted where he stood, staring up at Kyzzu with wide, questioning eyes.

   He was beautiful, with curly black hair and eyes so dark they mirrored the night. A child who looked so much like Winston that it made Kyzzu’s stomach twist.

Yet, there was a softness, a hint of Kyzzu’s own gentleness reflected in the boy's gaze, the same softness in his eyes.

But Kyzzu couldn’t bring himself to feel anything for him—not yet.

The child’s innocent questions began to break the silence.

“Mama…” Kazi’s voice was small, hesitant. He stared at Kyzzu’s long, silver hair that tumbled down his back in messy curls. “Why's your 'air like dat? …white?”

Kyzzu’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't want to answer, didn't want to explain, didn’t want to be this child’s mother. Not when every inch of Kazi reminded him of Winston—of Alfie Winston, the man who ruined his life. But the child’s eyes, so full of curiosity, were unwavering.

Kyzzu's voice came out clipped, cold. “It’s just the way it is. It was always this way.”

Kazi blinked, confused but undeterred. He looked at the faint, intricate marks on Kyzzu’s arms—once vibrant with the glow of life, now fading like forgotten memories.

“An' dose?” Kazi’s tiny finger pointed at them. “Why d'you have lines? They look like dwawings.”

Kyzzu hesitated. The marks had once symbolized something sacred, a link to the spirits, to the sacred lake that had shaped so much of his identity. But now, they were vanishing, just like everything else in his life. His tone was sharp, meant to push the boy away. “They don’t matter anymore.”

Kazi recoiled slightly at the curt response, his brow furrowing. There was a pause, a long stretch of silence as the boy studied him. And then, in the softest voice, Kazi asked the question that pierced through Kyzzu’s cold armor.

“Mama… why... why you no wuv me?”

The words hung in the air like a curse, and Kyzzu felt his breath catch. His chest tightened, the question striking him deeper than any physical blow could have. He stared at the boy, unable to answer, unable to lie.

   Because the truth was, Kyzzu didn't know. His heart ached, but it ached more for the life he once had as Keith, for the person he used to be. How could he love a child that was born out of a life he never asked for, by a man who represented everything he wanted to forget?

Kyzzu turned his head away, his throat dry. He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t admit that he didn’t know how to love this child, that he was afraid—afraid of the bond that might form, afraid of the responsibility that came with it. The silence stretched on, heavy and painful.

Outside, the world moved on.

Amani, the thirty-two year old black woman who had always been by Kyzzu’s side, stood by the clothesline, her hands busy with washing. She glanced up from her work, her eyes softening as they landed on Kazi, who had grown so much in just a year.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered the small, helpless baby she had helped deliver into the world, but she quickly wiped them away when she noticed Winston sitting on the porch, watching her. His presence always made her wary, though she respected the complicated man.

Winston’s voice was low as he spoke to her, a question lingering in his tone. “Any improvement with Kyzzu?”

Amani shook her head, her expression somber. “No. He’s still weak. The sickness— deep inside ”

Winston’s brow furrowed. He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. “And the marks?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the faint lines on Kyzzu’s skin. “What do they mean?”

Amani hesitated, looking out into the distance as if searching for the right words. “Water spirits,” she finally said.

  “The lake, the one Kyzzu visits. Back in the village, it was sacred. The spirits—they helped him when he was with child, now…now the marks are going away, he has been away from where he belongs for too long.”

Winston’s face tightened at that. He had never fully understood the spiritual ties Kyzzu had to his village, to the sacred lake, but it was clear to him now that something had been lost when Kyzzu was taken from that place. The glow that once marked him different, was dimming.

Amani’s voice was soft but firm. “Kyzzu to go back. away too long. The spirits— not done with him.”

Winston nodded slowly, his mind racing. He didn’t like feeling helpless, didn’t like the idea that there were forces at work beyond his control. He had tried to care for Kyzzu, tried to provide everything he thought the boy needed, but it was clear now that it wasn’t enough.

___

Inside the cottage, Kyzzu still hadn’t answered Kazi’s question. The little boy stood there, staring at his mother with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for something—anything. But Kyzzu couldn’t bring himself to say the words. His body ached, his mind was clouded with pain and confusion, and all he could feel was the overwhelming weight of everything he had lost.

“Mama?” Kazi’s voice was a whisper now, fragile and uncertain.

Kyzzu finally turned his head, meeting the boy’s gaze. His voice was soft, almost broken. “I…I don’t know.”

Kazi blinked, not fully understanding but sensing the pain in his mother’s words. He took a tentative step forward, reaching out with his small hand. Kyzzu flinched but didn’t pull away as the boy’s fingers brushed against his arm, touching the fading marks that once held so much meaning. There was a quiet understanding in the child’s eyes, a patience that Kyzzu didn’t deserve.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kyzzu let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Outside, Winston stood up from the porch, glancing back toward the cottage. He knew this reunion was only the beginning, but something told him it was the first step toward something more—something that none of them could fully grasp yet.