I don't realizing I'm screaming until I hear my Uncle shouting, "Get her out of here now!" Someone grabs me roughly and tries to pick me up, but I fight them off; I have to get to my dad.
He's not dead.
He's not dead.
He can't be.
It's not him.
A choked sob escapes from me as I run back to him, but before I can reach my dad, I'm pulled back and shifted roughly onto someone's shoulder. I struggle to get out of the grip of whoever is holding me.
"Let me go! Please let me go! It's not him! It's not him! Please!" My screams turn into wails. "Pop! I need to see him, please! It's not him," I cry out. "Dad!"
The image of his eyeless face is burned into my mind, but right now I don't care, I just want to hold him and hug him. I didn't get a chance to tell him I'm not mad anymore, that I forgive him, and that I love him.
Someone is holding me and whispering quietly, as they rock me gently. I'm not sure how long I've been crying all I know is, I'm no longer screaming or yelling but the tears won't stop.
My sweet, loving dad. I love him so much and I didn't tell him. I was so angry with him but now I just want him back.
I start wailing again, clinging on to whoever is holding me, sobbing hard into their chest. They hold me tighter and whisper to me to let it all out as they kiss the side of my head and continue holding me into the night.
When morning comes, I'm exhausted. My throat feels sore and raw and my eyes burn with never ending tears as I remember my dad is gone.
Dead.
My dad is dead.
I didn't get to thank him for the gift. I didn't thank him for being the best dad, for teaching me to defend myself, for making me laugh, for loving me.
The urge to use the restroom brings me back from my thoughts and I slowly untangle myself from the blankets. I notice I'm still in the clothes I was wearing yesterday and see the dress is completely wrinkled.
My legs hang over the side of the bed and I stare at the floor for a moment before shifting myself off the bed to stand. I focus on making my feet when my bathroom door opens and JP rushes over to me, surprised to see me up, I assume.
"Charmaine, are you okay? Where are you going?" He holds me around the waist and tries to guide me back to the bed.
"Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom." I whisper, my voice is hoarse.
"Oh. Um, do you need help?" JP asks nervously. I shake my head no and walk to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
I move slowly to the mirror and look at my reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at me. My face is swollen, red and blotchy from all the crying. My eyes have shadows, not only from the restless sleep but the mascara running and smearing from the tears and my hair is a wild mess on top of my head but I don't care.
After using the bathroom, I decide to wash my face patting it dry with a hand towel and then I try to brush my hair but give up after a few attempts and walk back out.
JP stands up as soon as he sees me, walking over to me and holds me again around the waist, leading me back to the bed. "Do you want to change into something more comfortable?"
I look down at my wrinkled dress again and nod. He asks me where I keep my pajamas and I look over to the tall dresser answering him silently. He walks over to it and opens a few drawers before finding sweats and a t-shirt and then walks back over to me with the clothes in hand.
YOU ARE READING
For the Empire - Inganno
General Fiction[Book 1] Stella and her father had no choice but to move in with her Uncle Timo, in New York, in refuge, after witnessing her mom's murder, as a child. She feels a connection to her Uncle, but his responsibilities as the leader for one of the large...
