His Colossal Mistake #justwriteit

Chapter 19

                  

"Never let success get to your head, and never let failure get to your heart."- Ziad K. Abdelnour

Chapter 19

We return our bags to our home before visiting my father. The streets are silent and the wind picks up. Sevastyan is not affected, but I shiver and cross my arms to retain warmth. My parents' front door opens easily and I shuffle to my father's office.

The knock echoes down the still home. There is a pause before my father speaks up. The door creaks as I push through it and motion for Sevastyan to follow.

However, he roots himself at the threshold of my father's office.

"I don't want him here, leave him out," my father snaps as he browses the shelves behind his desk. Sevastyan agrees by slamming the door close; separating me from him.

I suck up my snide remarks and wait for my father's talk. When he refuses to look at me, or even address me, my temper spikes. I am tired, and anxious about my father's judgment. No matter how independent I am, my father's opinion of me matters; whether negative or positive. I suck in a second deep breath to calm my nerves.

"You wanted to speak to me?" I comment politely.

"Yes-" he turns around, his eyes finally finding mine, and freezes.

"What," he sneers, "is that?"

His eyes go cold, and I cock my head to the side in confusion. My father has never looked at me like that. Like I am a monster.

"That!" he yells hysterically, staring at my chest.

My hand instantly grips the dog tags. I feel the cool metal against my skin, but it only takes me a second to react to my father's outrage.

"They are attacking, and you are marking yourself with dog tags?!" he shouts as I scurry to the door. I tuck the chain safely in my shirt as I leave. My father needs to cool down before speaking coherently with me, and he is on the verge of exploding.

I ignore Sevastyan's curious gaze as I grab his hand and lead him back home.

Who was attacking?

My father had mentioned an attack. Small skirmishes are often in war, but real 'attacks' are a different story. Humans are superior, and we end attacks before they start.

Instantly my hands find my phone and I call up my sister.

"Kalila, if you could answer. Please. I need to know you're safe. Call me when you get this," I leave a message for my sister.

"She never picks up her phone," I grumble to myself.

I stare out my large window into darkness. The sirens go off minutes later, and the streets illuminate with light. Practice drills were also often growing up, so I am calm as I lock my windows and doors. I then sit by the dining room window and wait. I wait for a long time as the sirens sound before I spot movement in the street below. Someone scrambles down the road. I scooch closer to the window to find out who. An instant later a shot fires and I yelp in surprise.

My cheeks burn as Sevastyan instantly appears by my side. I must have jumped at least a foot in the air.

"He has a bullet-proof vest on," Sevastyan speaks with a monotone voice. He nods his head to the man on the ground and we watch as he stumbles back up and begins running again.

It is the strangest thing. Not one other soul enters our street for the rest of the night.

My eyes start to droop about an hour later. The sirens went silent about 40 minutes ago, and Sevastyan and I were watching the street impatiently.