Turning Tables

Real

A peacekeeper pushed the door in.
"Three minutes."
Papa engulfed me. He'd been crying.
"Hush Pa."
"You're the bravest girl I've ever known."
I stared at the wall behind him. Not really, I thought.
"It's better me than her."
"Well I love you. I would love you if you die, I would love you if you kill, I would love you if you hadn't volunteered," he pushed me back so he could look me in the eyes, "I would have got to love you for a lot longer if you hadn't."
I tasted bile. I'd let my Papa down. But I still felt as though it was the best thing to do.
"I will try to win and get back to you. If I don't..."
I stared at him.
"If I don't, it's because I can't kill any more. And you need to go to work, earn money, and look after the Wellingtons."
He was listening intently.
"Indy, Ruby and Mary are your children now too. If Jeremiah survives then-"
"If Jeremiah survives he wouldn't have done his job right. Jeremiah will never be my son." The words hurt me. I slowly realised that Jer, or I would have to die. Pa looked mad.
"No," I tried to calm him, "Jeremiah will only survive if he's done everything and anything it takes to protect me." I knew it was true.
I knew we had little time. I sang, the first thing that popped to my mind. An old tune, passed down through the ages, royal and regimented.
"Time's up." They ripped papa away and I was suddenly overcome with a violent surge of pain. I held back tears- but only just.