Broken Connection

8

I was much smaller now than when I had been in my bed just moments before, and I was spinning around in the huge chair behind the imposing desk in my dads office. I might not have had much affection as a child, but I certainly was allowed to play as much as I wanted to.

Right now I was pretending to be the CEO, which could have become real. This didn't feel like a dream. It felt more like a memory to me, which made me wonder why I was so uneasy even as I played happily in the chair, shuffling papers and scribbling on things that did not need my approval.

I was drawing hearts all over some type of contract when I heard a very loud bang from just down the hall. Suddenly my dad was rushing in and yelling for me to get under the desk, to which I immediately responded.

My father was a stern but reasonable man. He would never tell you to do something unless it benefitted you, so when he said something I listened. I was glad I listened that day.

He tucked himself into the corner just behind the door. Not a minute later the door swung open and a large man dressed in black and dragging a young boy by the arm came in. The man was very obviously angry, and the boy was scared to death.

"Come out! Come out and face me for making me lose my business!" The man shouted, jerking the boy in front of him and waving around a giant hunk of metal.

He was facing towards the desk. I could just see him through the gap between the front of the desk and the wooden floor, and the look on his face scared me.

I could see the veins on his neck, and his hand shook as he raised the gun to point it at the desk.

"Come out you son of a-" He was abruptly cut off when my dad slammed the door into the back of his head. Hard.

The man fell to the ground, and the little boy started crying harder. He beat on the mans chest, screaming.

"Dad? Dad! Daddy!" The man didn't respond, but his chest rose and fell steadily.

My dad came out from behind the door, and he kicked the gun all the way across the room. I was still scared, but I crawled out from behind the desk.

At this point the boy was sobbing into his dads shirt, and my dad was on the phone looking serious.

I crawled to the boy, not standing up because I was afraid that my legs were too much like jelly to do so. He only fought back for a little bit before he let me take his larger hand into my tiny one and pull him a few feet away. I knew he was a few years older than me, but he was sad. I hated seeing people be sad.

The boy was still crying into my shoulder when the paramedics and police arrived to take his dad away.

I woke up with tears streaming down my cheeks. That was definitely a memory. It was the only time I had ever seen my dad afraid of anything. He had always been the biggest, baddest thing in the world, but I had seen fear when that pistol was pointed at the desk that I was hidden under.

It was only five in the morning, but I knew I would not be going back to sleep.