want to leave tokens and sentimental things behind. People planning to jump to their deaths remove their glasses, and it can be argued they do that so they don’t see the fall coming or because it’s what they do every night before they go to sleep.
The coked-out man on the other side of the room seems resolved, calming completely until he’s standing directly in front of me.
“They aren’t going to bring Dennis here.”
“They will,” I argue, even though I know he can’t understand my words. “They will.”
I can’t stop the sobs from escaping, no matter how hard it is to breathe. My throat is dry and agitated from having the gag in my mouth, and I find it strange that’s what I choose to focus on seconds before I die.
I scream when splatter hits my face wanting to die quickly knowing he’s shot one of the boys first. They didn’t deserve this. Neither boy got the chance to live. None of us will. Heaviness weighs me down, and honestly it’s a lot more peaceful than I thought it would be.
An odd sense of calm washes over me. I was loved. It may not have been for long, but I was raised by wonderful parents. I have the best sister and friends anyone could ask for, and Colton loved me. I know he did. So I guess technically, I’ve had it all.
But then realization slaps me in the face. I won’t get to walk down the aisle toward the man of my dreams or have a real job. I’ll never know what it’s like to feel a child move inside of me. There’s so much I’m going to miss.
“Soph, open your eyes. Are you okay?”
A swarm of people surround us, but it doesn’t stop the screaming when I watch another masked man roll the dead guy off my lap.
“Look at me.” I can’t. I just can’t. “Sophia Anderson, open your eyes.”
That voice. I know that voice. It assured me everything would be okay when I had nightmares. That voice chastised me when I got caught swimming in the lake alone when I was five. That voice promised to protect me forever.
“Daddy?” Dark eyes, exactly like mine, are inches from my face, and rough, loving hands cup my cheeks.
I don’t know why I called him that. I haven’t called him anything other than dad for a long time. Maybe it’s the memories flooding me from my childhood or him following through on so many promises.
“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Look at me.” Tears stain my cheeks, and he wipes them away with a gentle thumb. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“The boys,” I whimper. “The boys.”
“They’re fine. Look.” Dad shifts out of the way so I can see Dustin with his arms wrapped around Landon. Colton is clinging to a sobbing Rick, his eyes focused on me over his shoulder. “Hold tight. It’s over. It’s over, baby. You’re safe.”
My dad isn’t one to waste words, but it seems the situation calls for it, and I know the repetition is to reassure me. I would gamble that he’s in need of reassurance as well. He flips open a knife, making easy work of the ropes holding me in place, but before I can stand, he sweeps me up in his muscled arms and carries me out of the house.
“Dad, put me down. I can walk.”
He doesn’t listen as his legs carry me away from the house.
“Dad!” I snap. “Put me down.”
He freezes, his eyes finding mine, but he doesn’t open his mouth to argue as he lowers my feet to the ground.
“I can’t leave you here.”
“I have to stay.”
“There’s a dead body in the house, Sophia. Let me take you home where it’s safe.”
“The guy is dead. I’m no longer in danger.”
“You’ll always be in danger.”
I don’t know if he means with Colton or in life in general. Knowing my dad and the caution he raised me with, he means the latter.
“I love him.”
Confessions right after a traumatic event when everything is heightened can be taken seriously, right?
His eyes search mine and I don’t know if he’s trying to determine if I’m speaking the truth or if he’s giving me a chance to change my mind.
“Please?” The one word asks a million questions.
Please let me love him.
Please be okay with my choice.
Please don’t hate me because of the choices I’ve made.
Please remember what it was like when you fell in love with Mom.
I don’t know how many questions his simple nod answers, but my feet