came on a Monday afternoon. Mondays were my ‘me’ days. I was taking a stroll in
a park, calming my nerves after another tough week of protecting the last
shreds of my sanity. Holding on was becoming harder day by day. Some days it
almost seemed like everyone was right. Like however hard I was trying, I
couldn’t make it. It was in my blood.
I made a
resolution to never answer numbers with this area code a long time ago. The
only reason why I still survived was keeping distance from that place. That
cursed, broken place and all the sad, damaged people living there. But this
number… This number I could never bring myself to ignore.
until now I never had to try.
staring at the screen in daze. The darkness in my heart stirred. All those
years keeping it at bay and here I was, send hurling back into the pit by the sight of
eleven numbers. Gulping down bile I took the call and whispered, ‘Why now?’
to get back.’
father,’ he started explaining, but I cut him off.
stand his own,’ I said confidently, ignoring the sadness in Shadow’s tone. I
didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to think about consequences. ‘He doesn’t
need me there.’
he whispered softly, silencing me. ‘He is dead. Your father is dead.’
yet. Closing my eyes I disconnected and stood there, in the park, clutching at
the phone until my knuckles turned bone white. My father was dead. And I knew
who killed him.