Finding Finn Reed

XII

"What the hell am I looking at, Atticus?" I shouted as my body trembled with consternation. Atticus reached for my shoulder, and griped me hard, causing me to stand up. His grip tightened, and he dragged me out of the room. "You weren't supposed to see that" he said, his voice shaking hard. He walked me over to the couch, and sat me down. My eyes drifted all over the room, and then back to Atticus, who was now pacing back forth extremely fast.

"Atticus, what's going on?" I asked. Atticus stopped pacing, and stood behind the chair I sat in, his hands clenching onto it. His face looked like it was about to burst out into tears, his dark eyes began to water. I was startled to see Atticus so manic, it began to fill my body with anxiety. "I'm sorry, oh I'm so sorry" he kept repeating over and over, his voice was completely strained. "You need to start talking, now" I demanded. I stood up firm, and looked at Atticus straight in the eyes. Atticus stood still, and took a deep breath, his hands rubbing his temples. "My father," he began, "I had to." I took a couple steps forward, my body was now beginning to shake immensely. "What are you going on about?" I asked. Atticus's eyes were wet with tears, sweat began to accumulate, and his arms appeared weak. "I killed him" he whispered.

My body grew numb, almost as if I tried to reject the words Atticus had said. "You- you killed your father?" I trembled as my eyes slowly reverted away from his. Atticus placed his hands over his head and began crying loudly. "It was either me or him, I don't know what came over me, please understand where I'm coming from," he cried, "I wasn't thinking straight." "What about the sun drawings, that crumbled up paper? What the hell is going on?" I irritatingly asked. Atticus began to approach me, but my body kept taking steps back with every inch Atticus got closer.

"I wanted to find you" Atticus said, his voice calming down. I felt confused and afraid, Atticus had completely changed within a few minutes. He had secrets, and me unlocking them had created a new side to him. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "I mean I had planned all of this, finding you, meeting you, all of it" he confessed, his eyes trying to look at mine. I suddenly began to feel disgust for the man before me, my stomach had become a whirlwind of knots. "Sit the hell down and explain everything to me" I ordered. Atticus quickly nodded, and ran into the living room. He immediately sat down, and began to explain.

"My father didn't like the idea of me running away with my uncle, he got angry and decided to come after me" Atticus started, his voice starting to shake again. "Keep going" I said, putting my anger aside for now. Atticus put his hands together, squeezed them tightly and continued with his story. "He just showed up one night with a gun, something inside of me told me to fight, or else I'd die. I don't know, somehow I had a hold of the gun, and without a second thought, I shot him until the barrel was empty, I just kept screaming" he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. All I knew so far was that Atticus felt threatened, and acted upon it. "So where do I play in? I asked. "I couldn't live with what I did. My uncle explained hopping to me, he said with enough effort, I could go back and stop myself from doing it." I looked at his face, how it looked sad and wet. "And? Did it work?" I asked, my eyes examining his face. Atticus shook his head "No," he replied, "I was never able to do it, I had to live with what I did. Eventually it drove me insane, I began to lose my mind." "And what happened?" I asked, my hands tensing up. "I heard about you." My eyes widened with an uneasy feeling. "How?" I interrogated Atticus, my voice began to sound stern.

"There's a lot you don't know about yourself, Melanie," Atticus said, "Your father knew my uncle. They met as children, and he knew about my uncle's ability to time hop. When they grew old, they grew apart. Your father went on to get married, and have you." "He knew about my ability?", "I'm sure he had his suspicions, but if he did I know he wouldn't have been like my father," he said, "He spoke about you a lot to my uncle, I just happened to overhear your father call you 'special'." I placed my hands over my face, and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down. "Who are you, and what do you want from me?" I asked. "If I could meet another Time Hopper, if I could learn more about my ability, I knew I'd be fine" he softly cried. "What am I, Atticus?" "You're my catalyst, you're a god I don't know, but please don't go."

I sat still for a couple of minutes trying to process what Atticus had told me. He wanted to find me, and he did. He killed his father out of self defense, and he had lost his mind. What his real intentions were, I don't know. What I did know however, was that Atticus was diligent towards his objectives. "How'd you get that scar on your hand, the sun?" I softly whispered, trying to change the atmosphere in the room. Atticus lifted his right hand, and examined it as if it were the first time he had seen it. "I got it out of the ability. It just appeared one day" he replied back. "Appeared how exactly?" My eyes kept examining the scar, the way the suns rays were somewhat carved carefully into his skin. The scar somehow appeared bright, shining almost. However, I knew it was nothing more than an illusion cast on by the etched sun rays.

"Will I get that?" I nervously asked as I touched my own hands. "My uncle got his whole arm etched. He said it had to do with your capability." "So the stronger you are, the more etches you get?" My body trembled at the mere thought of the scarification. "I don't know" he replied. Atticus and I sat in silence, our breathing was the only thing that filled the room. I wasn't angry at Atticus for doing what he did. Nor was I angry for being tracked down like that. Atticus was deeply hurt, and all he wanted to do was seek shelter in someone who was like him. There were still so many questions I wanted to ask, like why my father never told me anything about my ability, or why time hoppers get etches on their skin. Nothing I could say or do would have changed the situation. So instead, we both just sat there, and let everything sink in. Finally, after minutes of silence, I decided to speak.

"I'm not angry about what you did to your father," my voice began to crack, "I would have done the same thing." "You would have killed your father?" Atticus asked, his voice tense. "I would have sought shelter" I replied. Atticus stared at me, and gave me a sad smile. "I'm not going to leave," I said, "There's so much I still want to learn. And you're the only one who can do what I can do." Atticus sighed, sounding almost relieved that I wasn't going to leave. "We all have our demons, whether we choose to lock them up is up to you. Whether you choose to pour them onto others, is up to me. From now on, I need full honesty, no more secrets like that." Atticus shook his head in agreement, and stood up.

After our agreement, Atticus said he was going to go to bed, and that I was welcome to sleep on the same bed with him. "I won't try anything if you do" he said walking into the master bedroom. I sighed, and told him I would stay on the couch tonight. I stayed awake for a couple hours, processing everything I could. The fact that the last few months of my life had changed so drastically, it didn't seem physically possible to accept it all. Whether or not I made a good choice in staying, I don't know. What I did know, was that I could always go back to rewrite my past if need be.