thriry - three

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It has been two days since my dad was shot

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It has been two days since my dad was shot. I haven't left his bedside for almost forty-eight hours. Marco has taken me on some laps around dads floor and grandpa has been dragging me down to the cafeteria to have a change of scenery.

Ray came to visit yesterday and reassured me that he was taking care of my doggies.

My friends have also been sending me messages to lift my spirits which I greatly appreciate. Logan came by yesterday as well and she took me outside for a bit. We worked on some homework and she helped me catch up on math.

Now I sit in dads hospital room holding his hand all alone. Grandpa had to go deal with the penthouse and Marco is stepping in for the mafia. They should be coming here soon but I just want to be alone.

The past few days have been terrible. Everyone says that he will be okay, that he will make a full recovery. But in the past forty-eight hours I got a glimpse of just how scary the mafia life is, how scary losing my dad could be. I don't know how much I like this reality anymore. It's not just talk about being attacked or talk about drug shipments. My dad was shot during an attack by Roans mafia.

How a good day could turn to chaos is beyond me. Never, not once did an attack on us came to mind. Three days ago I would've laughed in dads face if he brought up the possibility that we could be attacked and worse killed. Yet now here I am holding his limp arm as he lies on this rock hard hospital mattress. Tubes are going into his nose to help deliver oxygen to his lungs, and the tubes that were down his throat were taken out yesterday when he started to breathe over it. The heart monitor is still annoying as ever but a reminder to my ears that he is still alive.

Still holding his hand I squeeze it lightly before laying my right cheek on the mattress, trying to get some shuteye. Maybe it's my very uncomfortable position or the chair that has almost zero padding that's keeping me from falling asleep. Maybe it's my racing mind. But as I feel a hand loosely squeeze mine, all sleep is long forgotten as I shoot up nearly giving myself whiplash and see my father wide awake smirking at me.

"Dad!" I carefully crush him in a bone crushing hug. His arms wrap around my back as I feel his chest rumble underneath me.

"Hi Maggie." He coughs at the end of his sentence. Pushing myself up I go grab him a cup of water from the water filter Marco insisted on bringing.

"I am glad you're awake dad." I sit on the side of his bed after handing him the cup as I try my best to keep my salty tears from sliding down my dry cheeks. He pouts at me in a mocking way making me drop my smile and continue with my sentence. "But give me five minutes before I murder you with my bare fucking hands."

This makes him laugh yet he's the only one finding it amusing. I am terribly serious. He left me here thinking he was going to die and now he's making fun off me.

MaggieWhere stories live. Discover now