Bad Blood (6Questions)

Day 23

I've stayed home for a while. There was quite some shit I had to run through my mind, there's no better way to call it, really.

There are several types of serious crimes I've never felt very bad for, and then there's shooting a guy at a one feet distance with your own freakin hand. Which I don't regret either, it just makes me wanna throw up even three days later. Instead of getting better with time, it's getting more and more on my brain the lesser adrenaline I get at the expense of reason and goddamn nightmares during my sleepless nights.

I slowly realize how far I went and for what really. Against whom... That gives me another reason why to maybe rather linger at home. Calls from my dad keep attacking my phone. I don't have the nerves, the guts I guess, to take it.

Now it's ominously whirring on my nightstand again. An unknown number, I just know it's him.

"You sold us out."

I knew I shouldn't have accepted the call. And yet I'm somehow proud of myself I pressed the button on the seventh time. All of sudden the hand that shook while reaching for the phone is steady again. It's just my dad, and it's not the first time in history he's pissed at me. I'm back to my teenage revolt, calm and confident.
"Hello, dad."

"You fucking stabbed me in the back, you sent cops on me, and you killed my guy!"

I see the eighty hours I had him wait didn't cool him down one bit, shame. I put the phone further from my ear to not lose hearing. "I had nothing to do with the ruined escape, dad, I didn't tell any cop I have a freakin dad running this dirty business," although I might have thrown Louis some hints about the big-boss, I admit my mistake silently, "and yes, I killed Marianne's kidnapper. But I believe I made it clear last time we saw each other that I would do anything to get her back."

My dad's smile is deadly, I don't even have to see him to tell. It's the grimace I've only seen a few times, and I wonder whether my mum ever had the pleasure. And she would still stay with the man? I doubt it. I myself have had enough to last me a lifetime. Which hopefully won't be too short period.
"Even killing our man," dad marks darkly.

"Goodness," I sigh as flippantly as possible. "Why pretend you cared about him so much? What was his bloody name, can you tell?"

"No, I can't," I get a genuine reply that sure hides a deadly threat, "he was Mayor's guy."

"Right, Mark's. So, the two of us are done here?"

"We're not even nearly done," my dad slowly loses it.

Which is a shame, because I gotta go.
"Dad," I'm quick to stop him, "should you have anything more to tell me, come see me. This is not the matters to be dealt with over the phone. You know the best how often you get eavesdropped..."

"I can't bloody..."

And I hang up, sure leaving him beyond furious. But he's right, he can't bloody come or he may get caught and shut for life. If only Louis knew what a great protection he and his friends render me.
And if only my dad knew what a relief he granted me. I feel better. Free again, it's off my chest. I might as well just go on living again, better than torturing myself with deep dark thoughts in my lonely apartment. I've grieved for Tom for two days, that's seems about accurate. Now, what now?

...
"I'm here to see Marie Hallberg," I inform the nurse at the reception, "room 405."

"Oh, the gunshot wound," the woman looks up from her computer to take a look at me. Apparently, that is not as common injury around here. And no, Jesus, I didn't do it. I saved her.
"Did you bring Ms. Hallberg's insurance card?"

"No, I didn't make it to her apartment yet. It turned out I don't have her keys after all," I lie tiredly. This is not why I came here, can we just drop it. I'll take care of the expenses. The firm should perhaps.