Revelations
Then
The house was quiet when I woke. I didn't hear my dad's TV blaring, as it usually did at a late hour. He had always been a night owl, ever since my parents divorced. I think he used it as a way of distracting himself from thinking about everything.
I got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and turned on the light. I went to the sink to wash my hands, and then I saw the red on my palms.
It was blood.
Had I cut myself?
I blinked, turned on the faucet, and cleaned myself up. I didn't see any cut on my skin. I returned to my room, but found that I couldn't sleep. So I crept downstairs to get a glass of water. I hadn't turned on any lights; I knew the layout of this house like the back of my hand.
As I entered the kitchen, the linoleum cool on my bare feet, I started toward the refrigerator. Something on the floor caught my foot, and I staggered into the counter. I hit my hand against the toaster, wincing.
Then I reached over and flicked on the light to see what I'd tripped over.
I blinked a few times, not believing what I was seeing. There was a body on the floor, the blood staining the white around it. The eyes were staring at the ceiling.
His eyes.
My stomach churned, and I covered my mouth with my good hand. I knelt down, reaching for him, knowing it was useless.
He was gone.
My dad was dead.
"No, no, no," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."
I got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and turned on the light. I went to the sink to wash my hands, and then I saw the red on my palms.
It was blood.
Had I cut myself?
I blinked, turned on the faucet, and cleaned myself up. I didn't see any cut on my skin. I returned to my room, but found that I couldn't sleep. So I crept downstairs to get a glass of water. I hadn't turned on any lights; I knew the layout of this house like the back of my hand.
As I entered the kitchen, the linoleum cool on my bare feet, I started toward the refrigerator. Something on the floor caught my foot, and I staggered into the counter. I hit my hand against the toaster, wincing.
Then I reached over and flicked on the light to see what I'd tripped over.
I blinked a few times, not believing what I was seeing. There was a body on the floor, the blood staining the white around it. The eyes were staring at the ceiling.
His eyes.
My stomach churned, and I covered my mouth with my good hand. I knelt down, reaching for him, knowing it was useless.
He was gone.
My dad was dead.
"No, no, no," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."