CHIKLIT/ROMANCE
"BULL! You still love that useless prick!"
"Harley!" I cry, "It's not him that I want! I lo-"
He punches the wall, forcing my favorite memory to shatter across the floor, "I'm going to kill him!"
Haunted by her memories, Liana...
So! It is show down time! Yessss! Are you ready???
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Officer Powell offered nervously, "We better go before it is too late!"
I heard cold metal clicking into place as a voice said behind me, "It already is."
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Standing in the hallway was a statuesque of a man that in one breath had torn my heart into shreds. Almost every piece was laying beneath the souls of his shoes by the cellar door.
I must emphasize the word...almost. I say this, because there was one part that remained whole. There was only one part he could not take from me. She was five years old, had fire-red hair, and pools of water filling her fearful eyes. Every curl trembled as she stared into the man she once considered a father, but he was not her father. Not anymore.
James was only by blood. It seemed Mr. Rolland had made sure her name had differed as well.
A true father was gone from Mary Lou's life, leaving her in the hands of the only one Mr. Rolland trusted, mine.
Staring into the nickel-plated barrel of his compact pistol was Officer Powell. He was holding his own rifle. I on the other hand had nothing but my tongue to use as a sword to defend my least breath with. A single salty tear slid down my right eye as my voice crackled with trepidation, but I was determined to stay strong. I pleaded, "James! Don't do this...please!"
He warned in a dark inhuman voice, "Move slowly towards the door Liana and I won't pull the trigger."
His hand was steady and calm. He had obviously pulled the trigger too many times for it to affect his conscious.
The question I had mauling over in my head at the time was,
James...how cold are you? How cold are you to stand there behind a weapon in front of the woman and child that love you so much? Did losing your mother hurt you this much?
Not many seconds passed by before I instinctively came to two conclusions; if he was going to shoot he would have done it the moment he saw me by the library window, and the second denouement - his daughter was going to be the one thing that kept a part of him from tipping completely over the edge. I was going to make sure of it.
He may have fooled me for the last two years I had been with him, but I saw it...his eyes for the child that bared his thickened blood was still unconditional no matter how shady he had become. I know this, because every time he spoke to me, his eyes would shift over to Mary Lou with a look of concern for her eudemonia. Even if he was the one causing her to feel this way.
