Paranormal

Daddy

"Daddy!" I cried, holding my hand to my chest. "Leila broke my flower!"

My Dad bent down towards me. The sunlight played with the highlights in his hair, turning the black into a purplish-blue. His green eyes sparkled lightly. "Leila? The girl a couple of apartments down?"

I nodded, my nose all runny. I brushed my dark hair out of my eyes. I closed my eyes and a little tear fell from the side of my eye. I opened them up again, my vision blurry. When I opened my hand, the ripped white daisy petals fell from between my chubby five year old fingers.

Dad took the last of the petals from me and examined it closely. "Amabell?"

I sniffled. "Yes, Daddy?"

"Some of the prettiest things can never stay." And with that, he opened his large hand, and let the petals fly with the wind.

---

Gray clouds swirled in the blue autumn sky. Crisp golden brown leaves crunched beneath my feet. My dark hair was pulled back in a tight braid down my back. I looked over at Dad, who had a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. "Can I have an ice cream cone?"

"No." He said evenly. He cracked his knuckles. He had been acting differently lately; further apart from us than usual.

"But, w-"

"No, buts!" He snapped loudly, his eyes gleaming with something I didn't know back then. I backed up slowly, bumping into the tree that stood behind me.

His eyes locked on mine before he turned away and threw the cigarette towards the kindergarten that stood in a large clearing. I was a second grader there, and I imagined running around the play ground, but I knew that would make Daddy unhappy. We stood there for a few minutes before my Dad pushed me roughly into the car, disappeared behind me, then climbed into the car and we went back home

---

I peeked through the open door to watch as my Dad pulled out a large black gun and pointed it at a guy who was tied to one of our dinning room chairs. He had a gag inside his mouth.

The guy struggled at the sight of the gun but gave up as my Dad pulled something and a click sounded. I watched as he aimed it at the guy and walked around him, the gun still aimed.

"Maybe you shouldn't mess with people and you wouldn't end up in these situations." My Dad said in a voice as hard as stone.

"But I didn't do-" He started, but stopped when my Dad threatened to shoot.

"Amabell, hone-" My Mom stopped as she came behind me and saw through the open door.

"Come on." My Mom said in an edgy voice and pulled me away harshly by my arm. She took me into the living room and told me to sit on the couch and to pull on my shoes and jacket. I didn't know what was going on at the age of ten, but I did as I was told.

My mom picked up the phone and called the police. After five minutes of unpleasant silence, the police lights showed through the window. The officers came quickly through the floors and plowed through our door before kicking down my Dad's office door.

I watched as my dad was carried out of the house with tears flooding my eyes. A man with blood on him was carried out on a stretcher right behind him. It didn't seem real, my dad would never kill someone.

Yet that was the last time I ever saw my dad.