A/N:
Hello readers! I don't really do these often, but I just have a couple of things to note. First thing, I went back and edited the 1st chapter because I forgot to mention what Alex's mother does for a living; if you don't feel like going back and re-reading that, she's a doctor. :) That'll be important later on, so I just wanted to clarify that, haha. Secondly, I just wanna thank each and every person that's reading this because your votes and comments have seriously made my day. (I do a little happy dance every time someone comments; no lie.) Any and ALL feedback is hugely appreciated, so thank you so much. <3 Last thing- I have some family visiting soon, so I won't be able to write/update until sometime next week. Because of that, there's a double update to keep you guys sated until I can write some more. I hope you enjoy. :)
- Marsha
| 4 |
"Alex! Alex, are you alright?" Dad cried, pulling me into the house quickly, his face a swirling blend of relief, happiness, and anguish. Without waiting for me to respond, he enveloped me into a tight hug, thawing me out of my numbness just the slightest bit.
"Dad-can't-breathe-" I managed to choke out, with my face buried deep into his shoulder. Immediately, he let go, stepping back to place his hands on my shoulders to examine me more closely. He surveyed the dust and the grime that covered me from head to toe, inspecting me for injury. Once he was satisfied, he spoke. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I feared the worst."
My heart twanged in my chest, painfully. He thought I was dead. "Almost," I reply hoarsely, saying it without realizing. If Marco hadn't gotten us both out of the streets and into that cellar, there was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn't be here. "We barely got out of there."
Dad's eyes hardened, and he wound an arm around my shoulder tightly, as if he had no intention of ever letting go again. "Thank god you're alright. I don't know what I'd do..." He trailed off, lost for words.
I looked around, noticing we were missing a presence. "Mum?" I called, looking around. I had no doubt she would faint at the sight of me, but I didn't care. I ached for something familiar, something that resembled normal even slightly- even if that meant her yelling.
Dad's arm slackened as soon as the word left my mouth. I looked at him and truly saw him for the first time since I'd entered the house. His bright brown eyes, usually full of mirth were empty; dead. His hair was a mess; looking as if he'd run his hands through it millions of times, unlike him. It was as if he'd aged 20 years since this morning.
"Dad," I exclaimed with concern, ushering him to the couch. "You look horrible. Sit down and relax, stop worrying," I told him. "Everything will be ok."
I left him there and went into the kitchen, looking for Mum. She wasn't there. "Mum, where are you?" I checked upstairs, in her room and then mine, but still she was nowhere to be found.
I stood at the top of the stairs, utterly confused, when everything came crashing down in my head. I clutched the railing, feeling my heartbeat thud-thud in my chest over and over, like a baleful melody in a symphony of grave realization.
"No..." I whispered, refusing to believe it. I crashed down the stairs with a blazing fury, back into the living room where Dad hadn't moved a single inch.
I studied his blank, numb expression; just like the one I'd had on after seeing the horde of familiar faces lying in Town Square, asleep forever. He couldn't look this way just because of worry.
"Dad... Where's Mum?" I ask quietly, looking him straight in the eyes. He looks up at me for a moment, his eyes revealing nothing of his impending answer.
YOU ARE READING
Safe Harbor
Historical FictionWhen the war began, Alexander Blake was 15. A normal English boy; innocent, happy, and young. When it ended, he was almost 20. A young adult; wiser, older, transformed forever. In between came new friendships and family, carefree laughter and love;...