Adopted by Robert Sheehan

Chapter 1

Isabella's P.O.V.

July 25th, 2019. The night my life would change forever.

It was summer, and I didn't have to worry about completing homework or having to go to bed early. I could do whatever I wanted. 

The night in question, I finished popping myself a fresh bowl of popcorn, carrying the plastic container to my bedroom and turning on the tv, flipping to Netflix. 

There was a new show that was added a couple of months ago titled "The Umbrella Academy," I wasn't that much of a fan of comic books. But after giving the show a chance, I fell in love with it instantly, particularly taking an interest in Five and Klaus Hargreeves.

Around 11:30 pm, I heard footsteps come up the stairs, and my bedroom door opened. It was my mother, dressed in her pajamas. It had been me and her since my father was sent to prison for domestic violence. 

We recently found out he got out for "good behavior" and we were told to keep a close eye out for him. I was scared that he would come back, but my mother told me there was nothing to worry about since we had a restraining order against him.

"Isabella, honey? I'm going to bed," She said as she stood in the doorway. "Okay, goodnight Mom," I smiled, getting up to hug her before she shut the door again. As I was about to turn the show back on, I received a strange text message from an unknown number.

???: Look out your window.

Sure enough, I looked out the window, stunned to see a black-hooded figure standing right across the street from my house.

???

Isabella: Whoever you are, you're a creep, and you need to leave.

???: Now now, Izzy, that's no way to greet your father.

Isabella: I'm calling the cops right now! Unless you want to leave and never come back?

???: I've changed Izzy, I promise!

I've heard him say those words several times before, and every time I heard them, I held a little hope that he was telling the truth. But this time, I knew he was a stone-cold liar. 

I took another glance through the window, seeing him reached into his pocket for something. The faint flash of light caught my eye, and from the glimpse I got, I saw what appeared to be a revolver. 

Quickly as possible, I ran down the stairs two at a time, going to the door to make sure it was locked, but by the time I got there, my father was kicking at the door. The locks would soon break, and he would be able to enter.

I dashed to my mother's room, shaking her awake and telling her that dad was here. "What?" She asked, stunned and in disbelief. I quickly showed her the texts before hearing the sounds of the front door bursting open. 

"Hide in the closet!" she hissed. I complied and completely shut myself in, shakily pressing the buttons to call 911.

Operator: 911, please state the nature of your emergency.

Isabella: M-my father broke into me and my mother's house. He has a gun!

Operator: What is your name?

Isabella: Isabella Hansen, and my mother is Maria Hansen.

Operator: Okay, and what's the address and name of your father?

Isabella: 8844 Pinecrest Drive in Ontario, Canada. His name is John Hansen.

Operator: Okay, we have an officer and an ambulance heading that way. I need you to stay on the line, okay?

Isabella: O-okay, I'm just really scared!

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Then another, and another, a total of three bullets. 

A faint voice came from the living room, muttering the word "Bitch," as the sound of footsteps came closer and closer to the bedroom. I covered my mouth, hoping to muffle my panicked breathing as I pondered what happened to my mother, and if she was alive or not.

My whole body was shaking with fear, worried that he would find me and hurt me as well. Please, let me get out of this alive. 

The sounds of sirens pulled up to the house, and I let out a small breath of relief. "POLICE! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!" A few cops shouted. I could hear a bit of struggling as footsteps approached the closet. 

The wooden-paneled door opened, and I looked up to see a police officer with his hand out, assuring me it was safe to come out.

"I-Is my mother okay?" I asked, still shaking with fear. "We've got paramedics checking on her now," he answered. I stepped out of the closet, stunned to see my mother lying on the stretcher, a small pool of blood underneath her. 

I let out a sob, hoping that she would survive. "Are you injured at all, Miss?" The cop asked me, bringing me out of my gaze. "No, I'm just shaken up," I breathed out. I sat in the sitting room, explaining to the cops what happened, including showing them the texts I received from my dad. 

And every once in a while, I glanced over at the bloody spot where my mother was shot. Soon after, I was escorted to the hospital, hoping to hear some good news about my mother's condition. 

But the moment I asked the doctors how she was doing, they gave me news that I never expected to receive.

"She passed away a few minutes ago. I'm so sorry sweetheart,"