+ Incubus +

[Chapter 16] Part Two

Part Two--Chapter Sixteen:Fight Back
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Anna's POV

I was sitting outside on the steps of our porch, reading. It was another warm and too-good-of-a-autumn-day, to miss out on--and I took any chance to be outside when it was warm.

My father was inside doing whatever he does when he has a free day--which seldom happened. I was so deeply engrossed in the book I was reading that I didn't even hear or notice the big black truck that came rolling to a stop at the end of our driveway. The driver stepped out and walked over to my still bent head and absorbing eyes.

I didn't even look up or even sense him until he cleared his throat, trying to catch my attention. I snapped my head up at him, slightly embarrassed and curious. He was a tall, burly, blonde man with dark eyes and a calculating gaze. He had a posture of someone who could walk into a jail full of murderers and thieves and still be the worst out of them all--combined.

He was leaning against the white stair rail, his arm up on it, his mysterious and falsely happy gaze, down on me.

"Hello. You must be Anna," he said to my dumbfounded and lame expression. He probably just knew my dad... "Is your father here?" He asked me, confirming my question and making me feel more easy and less on edge around him. If he knew my dad, he couldn't be bad--just as my gut was telling me--right?

"Mhmm," I simply and stupidly answered him by nodding my head like a bobble-head. He smiled at me as I got up and opened the from door for him. I wasn't going inside, it was still too good outside and I wanted to relish in the weather before the cold, dark winter came along and stole the sunlight from me.

Who knew that it wasn't the winter that would steal the sunlight from me, but the man I had just willingly and simply let inside my home.

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It had been 25 minutes since the man had come and yet, he was still inside ugh my dad. They were probably talking about something important for taking so long and because my father always speaks to everyone outside of the house; victims of criminal activity would meet in the station and fitness at restaurants or bars. The main point? Something important and 'big' was being spoken about inside and I wanted a piece of it.

I was getting up to go inside--and be disrespectful and eavesdrop on my dad and the man, when the big, blonde guy came out, almost running. He looked frustrated and flustered and angry. He didn't even look at me as he trampled down the stairs of our porch and into his scary truck and drive away. Weird...

I turned back to the door and opened it. I stepped inside the warmth and walked to the kitchen where I presumed my dad would be. He wasn't. Then I strolled, almost lazily, over to the living room then the dining room and then finally, to the front if the house again. Where the heck was he?

"Dad?" I called out from where I stood in front if the front door. No answer. What the hell? "Dad, if you're playing a prank on me, it's not funny. Can you please just come out from wherever you are?" I asked and I got no answer, again.

I started walking again, this time, going upstairs to see if he had simply went to shower after the man left or something. He wasn't in his bedroom or his bathroom. I even checked my own bedroom! He was nowhere!

"Dad!" I yelled. If he was pranking me, when I found him, I would--

A noise interrupted my train of thought and I ran down the stairs, where I had heard the muted thump come from. He was here somewhere, hiding, waiting to jump out on me and freak me out.

Thump,

I silently and sneakily followed the sounds of his failed stealthiness, and found myself facing the white French doors of the closet we kept our jackets in. I grabbed hold if the handles, waiting for the perfect moment to bang then open and scare him instead.

I licked my smiling lips and swung the two doors open at the same time. My dad, who had probably been leaning in the doors, fell forward. I crouched down next to him, trying to help him up. He wouldn't move. What was happening?

"Dad..."I warned. He could seriously not be playing another joke in me just because I had finally caught him. He still didn't move. I turned him over so he was laying on his back instead of on his left side, and almost screamed.

There were gashes of freak blood and wounds and bruises lining his jaw, his temples and his nose. One if his eyes was slightly swollen and his right arm looked as if it had been snapped. I held a hand to my mouth, tears blurring my sight as I ran into the living room, dialling the police station.

This couldn't be happening.

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I'm so sorry for the wait but I promise that this week there will be a sufficient amount of updates.

Also, sorry if this chapter sucked, I wanted to include Incubus' POV too but the chapter would get too long.

Anyways thank you--to all my loyal, amazing, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-ly cool, awesome readers--sooooooooo very much for sticking with me and this book so far :) I love you guys like someone who had been reunited with their long lost twin lol (Explanation to my weirdness: I barely know you guys but still love you :') )