100 Deaths to live (new 2022 - Ongoing)

1 - The Curse: Travis Walker

No Rest For The Broken Hearted
Travis Walker

    “Travis, you know...” Shelby grabbed my wrist, I just merely pushed it off and kept walking towards the door out of the tiny mudroom.

   “I don’t care. I want to see her,” my voice sounded almost pleading in that moment.
 
  “When she has no desire to see you? That is not the best time to attempt to visit her!” She ran ahead and blocked the door to the kitchen, trying to prevent me from seeing my little Isabelle. My Izzy, seven years old, I haven’t seen her in over a month; she has never spoken a word to Shelby nor I, but I still love my daughter.
 
  “Then I shall turn, leave, and never face either of you again!” My heart began to weigh down at the thought of never being there to see little Isabelle grow.

    “Is-” Shelby reached for Isabelle as our child walked towards me; making it obvious that it was her doing that kept my daughter from me all this time.

   “You’re late, Travis.” I looked down into vivid green eyes, slightly covered by dark hair on the child’s head. Her first words, she spoke her first words only to declare that I was obviously late.
 
  “Izzy,” I fell to my knees, resting my hands on Isabelle’s sweater covered shoulders, “I am so sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say!” I felt a slight sense of scolding as Shelby spoke. “A whole month and then some late for your only daughter’s birthday, and all you have to say is sorry?” Now I knew that my ex wife was definitely scolding me.

“What else do you want me to say, Shelby?” My eyes met hers. “I know I’m not the perfect dad, but at least I try! Sometimes my attempts at being the perfect dad don’t work, but I’m sorry.” I felt a surge of anger flow with my blood.
 
  “Die.” Both Shelby and I spun our heads to meet Isabelle's gaze.  I felt that I was not the only one with anger in my blood.  When Isabelle’s gaze met mine, I saw pure darkness in her eyes. My little sweet daughter with hate and rage in her eyes was not a sight I had ever wanted to see. “One hundred times...”

“Isabelle, what are you saying?” Shelby and I asked the same question.

“To feel the rage, anger, pain and neglect I feel right now you would have to live a hundred deaths.” My eyes probably showed shock and pure terror, as Isabelle spoke those cursed words.

“Izzy.” I reached my hand out to her.

“No!” I retracted my hand with the surprise of all that Isabelle was saying. “I wish you had to live through one hundred blood curtling deaths with your pathetic soul!”  The words Isabelle spoke stunned both me and my ex-wife speechless.

    Minutes that felt like years passed as neither Shelby, Isabelle, or I uttered another word. Shelby had sunk to the tiled floor of the mudroom, her face still held the expression of shock. Isabelle was giving me the death stare, pure hatred was burning in her eyes. She stood only a foot away dressed in socks, a purple pajama dress, and her favorite grey sweatshirt.

As for me...I was too on my knees, sunken to the tiled floor. My face was pale, the reflection off the tile showed me so, and my heart was beating rapidly, as if trying to escape this night. On the inside I was crumbling, my heart felt as if it were a two ton rock due to how guilty Isabelle’s words left me. I’m supposed to pick up Isabelle every other weekend and every other week when school is out. For a whole month and a half, I never came to pick up my little girl. She grew up as being a daddy’s girl, I was her favorite. When I normally pick her up she stands outside, waiting for me patiently to pick her up and start our weekend of fun and excitement, but I’ve let her down for over a month now. I must have crushed her little heart while I was out partying, drinking, and God doesn’t even know what else. While she waited outside in this blistering heat for her dad to come and pick her up, and I never showed. I was probably passed out somewhere like the drunken fool I am.

   “I hate you.” My eyes lifted just to watch Isabelle storm past her mother and around the kitchen corner. Shelby raised herself off the floor and followed Isabelle, I heard them talk faintly from where I sat. I let myself sit for another, at least, five minutes before walking out of Shelby’s home.

   My boots crunched softly on their gravel driveway as I made my way towards my old beaten up truck. “You hate me too?” I asked Jonah, my two year old St. Bernard dog. All I got in reply was slobbery kisses. “Of course you don’t.” I started the truck after looking at the windows of the two story baby blue home, making sure I wasn’t being watched.