“When you little shits stop bringing me stress and strife. Fuckers,” Dad muttered.
“Well, at least two of us don’t bring you any stress,” I remarked dryly as he snorted.
“Oh? Which two of you is that?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Caleb and Summer, of course.”
“Not one of you is without your stresses. But I don’t care; you’re my babies. Even when you’re old and grey.” Dad smiled as I sighed.
“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” I said sadly as Mom began to cry.
She didn’t need to answer, but Dad wrapped his arms around her, consoling her.
I saw Layla at the end of the corridor, beckoning me to her.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” I mumbled, walking quickly to Layla, her face swollen from crying.
“He’s gone, Mom’s a mess—I can’t—”
She broke down then, falling into my arms as I caught her, the two of us falling to the floor as she sobbed.
“He killed him, he killed my Daddy...” she screamed in agony as my parents ran up beside us.
I met Mom’s eyes, nodding to her slowly as she moved past us wordlessly to the room where Finn lay with Rosie by his side.
“Steve let him pump himself full of fucking drugs so that he could hurt me. Steve let him die...”
I said nothing, allowing her to scream and cry as much as she needed to. Dad stared at me in horror, his usually calm exterior lost in this horrendous situation.
“Let’s get her up, son,” he suggested, helping me lift Layla to a chair close to us. I held her, wanting to smash Steve’s face to a pulp for doing this to her. I loved her so much, and it killed me seeing her struggle like this.
“I’m so, so sorry. I love you so much,” I whispered into her ear as she nodded, her shoulders shaking as she gripped me tightly.
“Cal?” Mom called, making his head snap up in response. “I need your help with Rosie... she’s not good.”
My dad headed off after checking we were ok, and I stroked Layla’s head softly.
“Can I get you anything?”
I felt utterly useless; the poor girl had lost her father at eighteen to addiction and cruelty. She had been raped, blackmailed, and treated like shit. Now she had to endure this fresh hell known as grief.
“Hecan’tbe gone...” Layla howled, fresh tears replacing the old ones, making my soul bleed for her.
“My darling, I’m so sorry. He loved you so much.”
We sat in silence then, until the time came to leave.
Somehow we managed to get both Rosie & Layla to the hotel, and Mom and I sat with them all night as they cried, sleeping only briefly enough to dream, waking up crying harder.
I’d never experienced grief like this, and it hurt like hell to see the woman you loved be broken piece by piece.
At around four a.m., Layla finally gave in to sleep, her body still racked with sobs. I laid beside her, wrapping my arms around her to help her feel secure. Her body shivered against mine as my eyes met my mothers. She sent me a tired smile before leaving the room to go back to Dad in the next room.
At some point, I must’ve slept because Layla’s soft cries woke me. Rosie had left; her side of the bed made up perfectly.
“I’m sorry, I knew Dad was going to die, but I couldn’t believe it. I thought we’d have longer,” she spoke so softly I could barely hear her.
“Please don’t apologize. It doesn’t matter how much we prepare ourselves for things like this; we can never really expect to react predictably. I think you are incredible.”
