𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

⋆↟•─────⋅☾⁶¹☽⋅─────•↟⋆

Luke 》

She took this way too damn far. Murdering a damn child? She's truly insane. I hadn't known what's in the box, if I had known, I wouldn't have thrown it like that. If I had known what she was up to, I'd stopped helping her immediately. Even if it meant never seeing my mother again.

My mother wouldn't have wanted me to help someone who decapitates children as threats just so she can get what she wants.

The man that was inside walks by me, slamming the door behind him. I follow after him. "What are you doing?" Alana asks, her voice rich with the British accent she picked up over the centuries. I mask my face so it's completely empty. "My shift is over, it's Terry's now." With that, I walk out the door without acknowledging her any further. "Hey, you!" I call after the nearly sprinting man in a hushed tone.

He doesn't stop, he even starts running faster. "Stop, I'm trying to help!"

He stops, turning. "Haven't you and her done enough?" I approach him with a frown. "I didn't know she would go after a kid like that." I say remorsefully. He shakes his head as if my words are unbelievable to him. "You people are insane. I should've never chosen her over my daughter, and now she hates me because of her!" Guilt pools in my stomach for this man and his family, the one Alana destroyed just like many more. "I was once in your position. I get it-"

"You have no idea what she has made me do. Don't compare yourself to me or my family." He sneers, holding the box tighter to him. I sigh, looking around me to make sure no one is here.

The last thing I want is for Alana to send a video to my mother to show her my dismembered limbs being fed to pigs.

"I can tell you where her body is so you can bury her properly. You'll need someone to distract the guards for you, but I know how to get you in." I say, watching as his face turns from complete despair to less despair as he considers it.

He grows silent, contemplating the idea. A minute passes before he responds. "Why are you helping me?"

"No one should experience something so horrific as holding your dead child in your hands. Let alone their head. She went way too far and for that, I'm willing to do whatever I can to help."

"No amount of help you can give me is enough to fix what I've done to my daughter." He cries, looking down at the box with a face full of devastation. "I know, but i can't imagine you'd want to bury just your daughters...head." I don't know how to say it without sounding inconsiderate.

He shakes his head as he speaks, hicupping. "This isn't my daughter. I tried to protect her from this mess the way i couldn't with my daughter and wife. My life has no purpose now." He hold a hand to his chest, as if it physically pains him to be in a situation like this.

"If this isn't your daughter, who is she?" I ask, grabbing his arm and moving us to the janitors closet where we'll be safe from prying ears.

"This is-was my wife's niece. My wife made me promise to protect her as my own child." He crumbles to the floor, sobbing over the box. "There's still hope for you, you know."

"What? What are you blabbering about? I literally stabbed my own daughter in the back when she'd asked me why I stopped loving her. I-i mean what kind o-of father am I?"

Jesus, what man does that to their own flesh and blood? "She's still alive, isn't she? You can still fix things with her. Hard to imagine, but maybe she's kind-hearted enough to believe you want to repair things for good this time."

"Oh, she's kind-hearted alright." He sniffles as his eyes glaze, seeming to recall a memory of her. "Sweetest angel of them all. Hardly anything she's done deserved the punishments that I pulled out of my ass. I thought I was protecting her from Alana, I really was-" He balls his eyes again, unable to finish his sentence that was said with very clear pain and unease.