Drowning in the Bad Boy

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Charlotte

"Dad ?" I heard myself ask. He didn't look right, he was heaving. He placed a hand on his chest and leaned against the table. He's in pain.

"Are you okay?" I asked again. Everything felt so distant, yet real.

"Don't you dare walk out of this house..." He said through gritted teeth before collapsing onto the floor.

"Dad!" I screamed. His body was twitching on the floor and breathing heavily. What should I do? I flipped through my purse for my phone with shaky hands. When I finally found my phone, my hands were shaking in great panic that it almost slipped through my hands. I dialled 911 in haste, but my fingers were trembling so I tried a few times before I got the right button.

"Fuck," I cursed in annoyance. Why can't I just get the right buttons when I most needed it.

It felt like a lifetime has passed before the call was connected, although I knew it was just a matter of a few seconds.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My dad, he can't breathe, come get him, quickly!" I cut off the phone right after I made my incoherent speech.

I knelt down beside dad and held his face.

"Dad, dad!" His lips were turning blue. I felt like his life was slipping away from my fingertips, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop it.

"What, what should I do? Dad! should I call mum?" I yelled. He was still shaking and unresponsive. I called mum anyway but it went straight to voicemail.

Dad gradually stopped twitching. His eyes were wide open, I couldn't tell if they're actually looking at me or they're simply opened, because his eyes had the same calm look as he always did.

He twitched one final time before he went limp in my arms. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he only stared at me. Not the kind of stare that dead people have on tv, blank and lifeless, but the speaking, living kind of stare.

"Dad? Wake up!"

There was blood coming out from his nose and mouth. That's when I know he's really dead.

"No, no, no, no..." Tears streamed down my face. Bitterness and saltiness filled my mouth. I never knew tears tastes so bad.

"Please dad, please don't leave me..." I shook him vigorously.

"Don't die," I whispered. I know he's not coming back anymore. Not even if I stop arguing with him, not even if I stop seeing Aiden, not even if I never stopped swimming, nothing could help. I felt like someone had just hit me really hard in the guts.

I sat on the floor and cried. Everything was crashing down on me, my whole world, everything, and I couldn't bear it anymore. So I grabbed my phone and ran out the door at full speed without looking back.

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Stop... stop... STOP!

I jerked up from my bed, gasping for air. My whole body was covered in sweat. The clock on my nightstand said 5:20 a.m. Seriously? Four hours of sleep? That's all I get?

I rubbed my eye and wiped my damp face with the back of my hand. I don't know if they were just sweat or tears. I had this dream for like, 7 months now? But it never seemed to get less awful. In the first 3 months when dad just had just died, I got it every night. Literally. I couldn't sleep. Even when I could, I ended up crying hysterically in the middle of the night. I dreamed of dad's sedate green eyes. The look in his eyes when he died was like a picture trapped in my brain, and I couldn't stop seeing it every day, every night. Everyone said my eyes look exactly like dad's. The same pair green, identical eyes that haunted me.