Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“I know, sweetie. But I need to go check on Grandpa.” I gave him a tight squeeze. “I’ll only be a minute. Be brave for me, okay?”
He didn’t let go at first, but eventually, he nodded.
“Stay right here,” I insisted. “No matter what.”
He nodded again, and I reached for the doorknob. I hesitated for a moment, then slipped out before I could lose my nerve. I quietly eased the door shut, then pulled out my phone and dialed 911. I didn’t press send immediately. Dad was a powerful businessman, and he was very conservative. He would be furious if I called the police for nothing. I needed to check first.
The hallway felt cold and hollow as I started down to my father’s office. The silence was heavy, and it grew heavier with each and every step.
When I reached the door, it was already ajar.
I pushed it open just enough to see inside, and my breath caught when I scanned the room and spotted a figure lying on the floor. I stepped closer, and as I feared, it was my father.
He was balled up in a crumpled heap, and blood was pooling beneath him, dark and sticky. It had already spread across the polished wood like ink spilled from a bottle. I quickly pressed the call button on my phone, and as I waited for the dispatcher, I tried to access what happened.
I knelt down beside Dad, and that’s when I saw that the gunshots had torn through his chest and shoulder. His shirt was soaked through, and he was barely breathing. Each wheezing gasp was a struggle. His face was pale and slick with sweat, and there was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He was always so strong and commanding. I thought the man was invincible, and it broke me to discover that I was wrong.
My voice trembled as I told the dispatcher everything that had happened. She made me stay on the phone and wait as she sent help. As I stood there listening to her try to calm me down, I couldn’t help but think about my relationship with my father. We’d had our disagreements, and there were times I thought I would never speak to him again.
But I didn’t want him to die.
He was my father, and through it all, I loved him.
“Dad.” My hands hovered uselessly, unsure of where to touch or what to do. “Dad, please…”
His eyes fluttered open at the sound of my voice. There was just a sliver of the sharp, steely focus left in them. “Oh, Tallie…”
His words came out as a ragged cough. More blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost him.
“You’re gonna be okay,” I assured him as tears rolled down my face. It was a lie. I knew that. There was too much blood. It was everywhere. I pressed one hand to the wound on his chest, trying to stop it from pouring from the wound, but it just kept coming. “Just hang on, okay?”
“I’m… sorry, Tal.”
The dispatcher assured me that help was on the way, but it wasn’t coming soon enough. I was losing him. I saw our lives together flash before my eyes—him carrying me around on his shoulders, playing ball in the backyard with Rooks, the Christmas mornings when he wore that silly Santa hat, and all the school plays where he sat in the front row, watching me with pride in his eyes. All of that was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“Help is coming. I just...”
His hand shot up and gripped my wrist with surprising strength, and I froze. His lips moved, barely forming words, but I leaned closer. His voice was so faint I could barely make it out as he whispered, “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… He’s not…”
“It’s okay, Dad. Don’t try to talk. Just breathe.”
“They will... come... for you... All of you.”
“Who will come?” When he didn’t answer, I repeated, “Who is coming, Dad? Who did this to you?”
His grip loosened, and his breath rattled in his chest as he exhaled one last time.
Then nothing.
Just stillness.
The room seemed to collapse around me—every inch of it suffocating me in the awful quiet he’d left behind. I shook my head and pressed my bloodied hand to his shoulder. “No, Daddy. Don’t go! Don’t leave me.”
But it was too late.
He was already gone.
I don’t know how long I sat there staring at him as the warmth of his blood soaked into my jeans. My mind felt empty, and my body numb. I tried, but I couldn’t process what had just happened. My father was dead, but more than that, he was dead because someone had murdered him.
The sound of shuffling footsteps pulled me from my thoughts.