The Dead Of Night

Death of an Era

AN: So this is the very final chapter for the Dead of Night. If you're hear and reading this you've come all the way. I'm glad to have taken this journey with you guys and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have anything to say good or bad about the story leave a little comment. Thank you for reading my story guys.

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Carolyn didn't mind coming in. She was really concerned when she came in, but I didn't hesitate to talk to her. I'd already waited for her to drive in, and I was just ready to leave. The moment she got in I burst out the door and tore down the street racing towards my house, I couldn't be bothered to call a cab.

The distance between my house and work had never seemed so long before. No, no, no, no.... All I could think was that he couldn't be dead, he couldn't have left me. What had happened to yesterday? He seemed genuinely happy, why would he do this?

When I get to the door I see that mom's left it unlocked and I don't stop to take off my boots. "Mom!" I scream and race up the stairs. I'm trudging to the bathroom; my wild imagination giving me garish images of my workaholic father laying in our bathtub soaked by a pool of red blood.

I momentarily think I'm lucky when I'm saved from this image by my mother's scream of "I'm in here!" And I go to my father's bedroom. I'd barely ever been in my father's room, the last time I remembered being in here was when he was really sick two years ago and mom sent me up with a bowl of soup.

Any fleeting feeling of relief disappears when I come in the room. My mother is sitting on the bed, a few pieces of papers crumbled in her hands her hands. She looks up at me with teary eyes, her make up running black trails all down her face.

She looks lost. I'm aware of my dad's body laying on the floor near a pulled out chair but I can't bring myself to look at him just yet. Instead of this, I go over to the bed and sit beside my mother. I vaguely notice that everything is perfectly tidy, there's not even a single wrinkle on the pillow cases. I grab her wrist in as comforting a manner as I can manage.

"The letter is for you too." She chokes, handing me a few pages of paper. I accept them but can't bring myself to read them just yet. "I've... I've called the police, and an ambulance is on its way."

I nod mutely, there's nothing left to say. I stare down at the papers without really reading. They're crumpled and have been folded many times. How long has my dad had these? Has this been a plan for a while? There are also tear stains all over them and I don't know what to say about it, I know they're from my mom. Does Phillip know?  I wonder, but again I don't ask.

After a moment of heavy breathing on the part of my mom and I, I finally get the courage to look at my dad. I really wish I didn't. He's been taken down and the rope removed from his neck but I can see the red marks where it dug into his skin. His eyes are still open and dull, yet they show just how much panic he felt just before he died.

I tear my eyes away from the bloated thing on the floor that was most certainly not my dad. I pushed myself up from the bed, and stormed off to my room. I slammed the door shut and leaned against it raising up my dad's letter.

Mallorie, he wrote in big letters. It was perfectly written though. Everything was in perfect lines, nothing strayed and all of his writing was neat and careful. He'd taken his time on this.

If you're reading this, I've finally gone through with it and killed myself. You probably don't understand why I've done this and I will try to explain. Just keep in mind that I am really so very sorry.

The reason I have opted to do this is mostly because I have nothing left to live for. I have dedicated every aspect of my life to making your mother happy but I evidently cannot provide for her needs in the way Phillip can. So in my final moments I give her a third of possessions, everything else goes to you. I don't want you to be upset with her for this, it was my choice.