DARK DEEDS

29

I KNEW I should not have but I did. I did it all with Salvatore. And I took it all from Candle and Natalie too.

Now as I stare back at the men who prowl around me - the price of what I did has to be paid but not without a battle.

It is futile I know but I make one last attempt and kick the man in front of me in the balls. He crotches in pain as I elbow the other man that holds me in place.

He stumbles back before I make a run for it. I do not run far, however, because the next thing I know, I am pulled back.

One of the men makes me face him before he spits his next words out. "Stupid little cunt. You like t-"

Before he can even complete his sentence the sound of a bullet meets the air before all hell breaks loose. More bullets ripple through the air before I crouch to the soil and crawl behind a bush for cover.

I watch as the bodies of the men who captured me fall to their death. It happens all at once and all so fast that when I blink once more - it is all over.

A silhouette appears from the shadows. I do not think twice about who it is. It must be Salvatore - who else would come to save?

I stand from the bush with a wide smile and run towards him. Just when I am about to wrap my arms around him - I receive the shock of my life.

It is not Salvatore - it is someone else. I blurt the words out loud before I process it. "Dad?"

I blink twice then thrice but he does not disappear. He is the same as I remember but for the curls of his hair, which once upon a time were as dark as the skies, but are now a pale - almost white shade.

His brown skin looks wrinkled as opposed to his suit which is ironed and pressed to perfection.

His lips stretch into a ghost of a smile before he utters my name in a thick spanish accent. "Carina."

Cold chills run down my spin at the sound. He is here - alive with me or perhaps not? - "Am I dead?"

"You could have been had I not come." He states.

My shoulders fall in complete and utter disappointment. I wanted him to be Salvatore so bad.

Now I do not know whether to feel happy or sad that my father has come back from the dead or whatever he went.

I let out a deep breath before I say the most logical thing I can think of in this situation - "How did you know I was here? And where have you been all this time? I was so sure you bled to death on that floor years ago."

"How, why, where, who? All that does not matter." Dad tells me. "Just be thankful that I saved you and at just the right time."

"Thank you." I force a smile while simultaneously fighting the urge to tell him that I would rather be dead than in his presence.

"Now that that is over, you're coming with me to Mexico." He informs with a note of finality in his voice. A finality I refuse to accept. I am not going anywhere with this man.

And yes, that is all he is to me - a man. A man I had never truly gotten to know. A man I was trained to call father, or dad or whatever. He was never really that for me. He was just a formality, just something I had for the sake of having and I resent him for it.