9-1-1 ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛs

Bruise - Bobby Nash

Olivia Nash - 16

Bobby Nash stood at the kitchen counter, his hands moving on autopilot as he prepared breakfast. The familiar sizzle of eggs and the soft hum of the coffee maker filled the room, but the atmosphere was tense and quiet. Too quiet. He glanced over his shoulder at Olivia, who was seated at the kitchen table, staring out the window with a distant look in her eyes.

She'd always been quiet, his daughter. It was just who she was—soft-spoken, introspective, and kind-hearted. But recently, Olivia had grown even more withdrawn, and that worried Bobby more than he could admit. For weeks, she hadn't been herself. She would come home from school, retreat to her room, and barely say a word. When Bobby tried to talk to her, she would just shrug or nod, giving him short answers that left him feeling helpless. He missed the little moments they used to share—her shy laughter, the way she would talk to him about her day, the connection they'd always had. But now... it was like a wall had gone up between them, and Bobby didn't know how to break it down.

He had a bad feeling deep in his gut, one he couldn't shake. Something was wrong. He knew it. But Olivia wasn't letting him in.

This morning was no different.

"Breakfast is ready," Bobby said softly as he placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. Olivia didn't look up. She just sat there, picking at the edge of her sleeve, her eyes still focused on the world outside the window. Bobby sat down across from her, watching her carefully.

"You okay, Liv?" he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle. "You've been really quiet lately. You know you can talk to me, right?"

Olivia blinked but didn't respond. She picked up her fork and slowly began to eat, but there was no life behind her movements. No energy. It was like she was just going through the motions. Bobby's heart ached as he watched her. He wished he could fix whatever was going on, but he couldn't do that if she wouldn't talk to him.

After a few minutes of silence, Olivia stood up from the table and grabbed her bag, her breakfast barely touched. Bobby watched her, trying to think of something else to say, something that might reach her. But before he could find the words, Olivia finally spoke—soft and almost hollow.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

Bobby's chest tightened, and he managed a small, sad smile. "I love you too, sweetheart."

Olivia gave him a fleeting glance before turning away, heading for the door. Bobby watched her go, feeling the weight of her sadness linger in the air long after she left. He didn't know what was happening, but he was determined to find out. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

---

Olivia walked down the hallway of her school with her head down, her hands clutching the straps of her backpack tightly. She could feel the eyes on her, hear the whispers and the snickers from the girls walking behind her. It had been like this for months now—ever since that one stupid incident. They never let her forget it.

"Look, there's Olivia the freak," one of the girls behind her whispered loud enough for Olivia to hear. The others giggled.

"Do you think she's going to cry again today?" another one sneered.

Olivia's throat tightened, and she fought to keep her composure. She kept walking, pretending she didn't hear them, pretending that their words didn't hurt her. But they did. Every word cut deep, and no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she couldn't escape the constant barrage of cruelty. They followed her to class, took every opportunity to make her feel small, and Olivia was too afraid to stand up for herself.