Page 64 of Torn
His head raises unnaturally slow, and he starts to tremble. This is it, I think to myself. Mom is really gone. She’s no longer lingering between life and death, holding us as emotional hostages in her limbo. It’s over.
I run across the hardwood floor and kneel in front of him. That’s when I notice the blood. On his hands, and on his shirt. It’s smeared, and not wet, but sticky. It has to be recent.
“Oh my God. Daddy… are you hurt?”
“It’s not mine,” he whispers.
“What happened? Whose blood is this?”
“Katie’s dead.”
I feel like the life got sucked out of me as my mind tries to process what he just said, hoping I must have heard him wrong. Katie is my five-year-old cousin. Five-year-olds don’t die. Especially ones who are so happy and healthy like Katie.
“What? No…” I shake my head as tears start to track down my face.
“Lukas and I had to identify the body. Vandal had a car accident, and she was in the back seat. It’s his blood.”
“Uncle Vandal? Is he…?”
He shakes his head. “He’s okay. Hurt… but okay.”
Gulping, I tug at his bloodstained shirt. I can’t be near it, and he shouldn’t be either. “Let’s take this off, Dad,” I say softly, and he lets me pull his shirt over his head. I take the soft throw blanket off the top of the couch and gently wrap it around him. He’s still shaking uncontrollably and I’m afraid he’s in shock.
“I can’t get it out of my head. She was so little… It was awful. I feel sick.” He chokes on his tears and presses his palms against his eyes. “I can’t stop seeing her little broken body.”
I put my arms around him and hug him close to me, fighting the waves of devastation rippling through my own body.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
I don’t know what else to say, or how to comfort him. He needs his wife, not me. I have never experienced death before this, and I’m torn between falling apart myself and needing to be strong for my father. All I can offer is words I’ve read in books or heard in movies. “Let’s try to remember her before. How cute she was. Don’t think about tonight. That’s not her anymore.”
Maybe I should call my grandmother, or Storm, my other uncle, who’s very close to my dad. They must be going through the exact same feelings of grief and disbelief right now, though, and probably won’t be able to console him any more than I can.
My father clings to me, hugging me so tight I can barely breathe. “I’d die if something happened to you. I can’t ever lose you, too.”
I stroke the back of his head. “Nothing is ever going to happen to me, Dad. I promise.”
KENZI
It wasn’t easy convincing my father I could make the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Maine safely by myself without crashing, getting lost, getting kidnapped, picking up a hitchhiker, or getting several speeding tickets. After much debate, I finally convinced him to let me go. He didn’t understand my sudden decision to leave as soon as possible, and he stood in my room with a worried look on his face watching me pack a suitcase like a demented squirrel with way too many nuts.
“I don’t understand why you’re leaving in such a rush. Did something happen? Did Katherine say something?” he asks.
There’s been a slight rift between my father and my aunt Katherine since my mom’s accident. She wanted me to come live with her permanently, stating that I needed to be raised by a mature woman now and not by a bunch of rock stars. My father won that battle, agreeing to let me spend the summers with Katherine. But honestly, I don’t think my aunt has ever really trusted that her only sister’s child was being raised right. I’ve never met my mother’s parents since they basically disowned her when she got pregnant with me, so Katherine is the only relative of my mother’s that I have any contact with. Every time I visit, she begs me to stay permanently. I always leave, though, because I miss my dad, my family, and Chloe.
And Tor.
“Everything is fine, Dad. Katherine hasn’t said anything otherthan she’s excited I’m coming. I guess I just want to get away and think about what I want to do with my life now. That’s all.” After the fight with Tor earlier today, I just want to get away from everything.
“I get that. I just wanted more time with you myself this summer. I have a tour in the fall. And then again in January. I feel like you’re running away from something.”
I hate upsetting my father, and I worry about leaving him because I know he’s lonely even though he refuses to admit it. He looks so young to me today, wearing ripped-up jeans and a black shirt that’s unbuttoned with all his chest and ab tats visible, and a black baseball hat on his head backward, his long hair spilling out from beneath it. He doesn’t look like a typical father and sometimes I forget he’s as young as he is.
“I know, Dad. I’m sorry. I’ll call and text you every day. And I’ll come back at the end of July or early August, so we’ll still have time together before you leave.”
“But I’ll miss your birthday. It’s your eighteenth and I wanted to have a big party for you.”
I inwardly cringe. “I hate parties. When I get back, I’ll have a few friends over for one of your bonfire nights. That’s all I want.” I smile reassuringly at him. “You don’t have to do anything special for me.”