"Dad–"
It didn't matter that I had barely whispered the word. It filled the silent ward and echoed off the walls like a call to prayer. It could have been heard by everyone, except there was no one here to hear it. There was only me, me and the machine which made my father's lungs expand and contract with air.
Only me.
YOU ARE READING
Loretta of the Lamp
FantasyLoretta bit her lip and took a deep breath before she peered into the keyhole and slid the pick into the narrow opening. "You will open for me," she murmured. Loretta knows how to pick a lock faster than you can say "juvenile delinquent". But the si...
