The Razgriz Legacies [Book 6]

Contempt

Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?

Chapter Quote:

“The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one.”

~The Blind Assassin

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Chapter 3: Contempt

Shiloh 

Lunch with Axel ended up being surprisingly enjoyable.  The two of us talked for about three hours about planes, war, favorite school subjects, hobbies, and the likes.  I’d been able to avoid revealing that my parents were the reason his father was imprisoned, much to my relief.

There was a lapse in our conversation as we finished a subject and thought of a new one.  I took a bite of a pastry Axel had insisted I try when he said, “I’m surprised.”

“By what?” I asked, covering my mouth.

“You’re much more laid-back than I thought you’d be.”

His statement struck me as odd.  I gave him a wary expression and said, “What do you mean?”

“I’m not meaning to sound like a creep!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. “Which I probably do… damn it.  Uh, what I mean is I know you’re the daughter of Blaze and Chopper, Razgriz One and Three respectively.  I didn’t know what you looked like but I knew your name and when I met you a few hours ago, it wasn’t hard to figure out that it was you.  You look just like your mom.  Maybe it’s just a Belkan thing, but if a kid from here had parents like yours, they’d be bragging about it like crazy.  It’d be the first thing out of their mouth.  With you, it’s like you don’t like talking about it.”

“I don’t like talking about it,” I retorted. “Especially to people who are the children of the people my parents put in jail.”

Axel seemed taken aback by my outburst and sudden defensiveness.  It was the truth though… and there was more…  I loved my parents and I was unbelievably proud of what they had accomplished and that I was their daughter, but whenever people knew that, they would always refer to me as ‘Blaze’s kid’ or ‘Chopper’s kid,’ not by my actual name, and it irked me.  Blaze and Chopper’s kid has a name, and her name is Shiloh.

“It’s not your fault your parents put my dad in jail, nor do I hate you or them for it.  In fact, I want to thank them for it,” Axel declared quietly, heatedly.

I met his gaze. “What?”

“I want to thank them,” he repeated before glancing down at his drink. “I was two years old when my dad left for that war, and I don’t remember much, but I remember my mom living in fear of him.  I never knew why she’d always been so afraid of my father until I asked her where I’d gotten this scar on my head from.” He pointed to a long, thin, jagged line above his eyebrow. “My father was abusive.  He hit my mom and he hit me.  I had been crying because he’d been scaring me, and he hit me to shut me up.  His ring hit above my eyebrow, hence this scar.  I had to get it stitched.  After that, he went to war and I never saw him again, thank god.  My mom filed for divorce once she found out he was going to prison.  It took five years for it to be official because he refused to sign the papers.  But during that time, she’d found a really nice man: Frederick Johansson.  They married once the divorce with my father was final, and I’ve considered Frederick my dad ever since.  I feel like I’m dumping all this on you but I want you to know why I don’t hate your parents, why I don’t hate you or your siblings, why I don’t hate your family.  I’m not a threat to you.  In fact, I’d like to consider myself an ally.  If you ever need anything, let me know.”