My Last Words (GirlxGirl)

Chapter 1

TW - Mention of death, suicide, and domestic abuse throughout the book.

I didn't believe it at first, when I got the call. I thought maybe the police officer on the other end was joking. Maybe my dad had one of his friends prank call me; he always did have a dark sense of humor.

But when I realized it wasn't a joke, my heart sank. It was that feeling you got on a roller coaster. Except, this time, it wasn't fun or exciting.

I tried to wrap my head around the piece of information. I would never get to see him again. Never speak to him. Never hear his laugh. Eat his homemade chocolate chip pancakes. Watch a movie and have him talk through the entire thing. Hear him singing Beyoncé completely out of tune. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to argue with him ever again. The only constant I had throughout my life, was gone.

That's what was running through my mind when I got the call. That stupid fucking call. Maybe if I'd kept my phone on silent, it wouldn't have happened. Maybe if I invited him over for dinner, he wouldn't have gone to that grocery store. The grocery store where that bastard shot every person in sight. The reason why I hadn't stepped foot in one since.

As I sat in the cemetery—across from his grave, on a painted wooden bench—I wondered what I could've done differently. What I could have done to save him. Save my own father.

"Hey."

I turned my head to see a young girl approach me.

"Hi."

She sat on the other end of the bench, leaving a decent amount of space between us.

"Dominic Silvers." She read from my father's grave. "1971-2022."

I looked at the grave next to my dad's, which seemed to be the one she was visiting, and read, "Kayla Sailor. 2005-2022."

There was a comfortable silence before I spoke, "He was my dad."

She hesitated, as if it were too personal to ask, "How did it happen?"

I silently thanked her for not saying something along the lines of I'm so sorry for your loss or I can't imagine how you must feel right now. I was getting sick of people giving me sympathy or acting like they understood when they clearly didn't.

I brought my eyes up to look at her. She was pretty, looked like she was in college; maybe in her early twenties. Her bone structure was impeccable, definitely that of a young person's. She had gorgeous long straight hair that was the color of sand. But not just ordinary sand, we're talking fancy Maldives sand. She was beautiful, that was obvious. The things I would do to be young and attractive again.

"He was shot in a grocery store." I answered her question, "Kind of a pathetic way to die, if you ask me."

She smiled, "I think it's pretty heroic. I mean, at least he didn't just have a heart attack or something boring like that."

I let out a laugh, "I never really thought of it that way." Looking at the grave next to my dad's, I asked, "Was she your sister?"

"Uh, no. Actually, she was my best friend. She killed herself over the summer."

I quickly brought my eyes up to meet hers. I definitely wasn't expecting that.

"I go to Newton High School by the way." She smiled politely, clearly not in the mood to elaborate on her friend's death.

"Oh wow. I thought you were in college or something."

She laughed softly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Do you visit often?"

"Everyday after school. What about you?"

"On my lunch breaks."