since eighth grade. → markiplier

Chapter Eight: Dad

Chapter Eight: Dad

Elliot

I tap my fingers along the steering wheel of the rented vehicle, taking in shaky breaths as I take the next left in the direction of the hospital. I was about five minutes away, and I was nervous as to what I would find there. What if I was too late? What if it’s just another one of my dad’s sick ways of trying to earn money?

I sigh, trying to relax myself by leaning back into the chair a little. Once I reach the area that my wonderful satnav told me to go to, I feel my eyebrows knit themselves together in a frown. The area was dingy and had a few abandoned factories, one of which had collapsed in a charred heap. From here, though, I can see the ocean.

Cautiously, I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car. I scan the area, looking for any signs of the hospital. Ambulances, red crosses, anything that would lead me to the hospital. But I couldn’t see any of the.

I take in a breath, finding that the air is tinted with the smell of old coins. My hands curl into fists, cursing myself for being distracted by my thoughts. I must have missed the hospital or taken the wrong turn, or maybe even but the wrong address into the satnav. Chewing on my lip, the smell of coins becomes a taste in my mouth as I draw blood.

“Ah, fuck.” I mutter, touching a hand to the small cut on my lip. I check the address on the satnav, making sure that the one my dad texted me was the same one that I put into the small and, totally not worth the money I spent, device.

I input the address again, sighing as it loads up. I adjust the mirror above me, making sure that it’s in the correct place. The second I shift it, I notice a glimpse of tufty, brown hair. The same shade of brown that my hair naturally is. I hear a hissing, like a bottle of spray. Frowning, I shakily reach out to the mirror.

My blood turns cold, but I swallow the lump in my throat and adjust the mirror again. This time, however, I see a whole face.

“Holy shit!” I call out, slapping a hand to my mouth as if to muffle any screams that may pass my lips.

“Language, daughter.” He says, throwing me a smirk from underneath his… gas mask?

My body seems frozen, but I find it moving frantically as I dive out of the car and practically throw myself onto the dirt road. I push my arms out in front of me, using my forearms to soak up the impact of the fall. A jolt of pain travels through my arms and up into my shoulders, but I ignore it. There is too much adrenaline in me to even care. However, the impact causes me to fall flat on my face and bust my nose. My touching it, I notice that it hasn’t broken but it is definitely bleeding.

“Ooh, did that sting? Come here, I’ll help you up.” My dad says, getting out of the car and crouching down beside me. He outstretches his arms but I back away, rubbing my nose with the hem of my jacket. The blood smears and sticks on the material.

“Don’t… don’t touch me.” I manage to choke out, pressing the sleeve of my leather jacket to my nose.