Haunted by an Angel

Chapter Seven

"Sydney?"

"I'm here." I answered my Dad rushing over to the bed. My mind screamed at what I saw.

The man before me looked nothing of my father. His face was covered in stitches, his eyes blackened and brused. Bandages covered his torso, telling me that something was broken. A cast covered left arm was pulled to his chest, and his left leg was being held up off of the bed slightly from a sling hanging from a lift attached to the ceiling.

My heart ached from the sight. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that there was no way this could be my father. The accident had left him almost beyond recognition. This led to the silent tears sliding slowly down my face. My heart ached. So much so, I felt as if it were going to give out at any moment.

"What happened Syd?" His deep, horse voice asked. "The last thing I remember is getting into the car to come home."

"You were in an car accident." I told him. He looked away from me, his blue eyes scanning the room, before realization crossed his features. His eyes wide, he turned to me once more.

"Sydney, where.. where's your mother?" When I didn't answer, but rather looked at the floor, panic sat in. "I said, 'where's your mother'!"

I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They flowed like springs down my face, staining the thin blanket of my father's bed below me. I could feel him struggle to get up from the bed screaming, demanding me to tell him where his beloved wife was. But, I just... couldn't. How could I form the words? How could I form any words?

Realizing that I couldn't speak, Detective Augustine took the lead. "Mr. Masterson," he started, laying a calming hand on my father's unharmed shoulder. "my name is Detective Bryan Augustine. My partner and I, were assigned to your case." Something between anger and recognition crossed my father's face.

"Son," my father stated with eerie calmness, "where is my wife?"

Augustine's eyes never wavered, and never left the man in front of him. He was the picture of professionalism and calm. "Sir, you were in a head-on collision with another vehicle. Your wife did not survive the accident." His voice never faltered.

My father looked away and nodded. "Thank you Son." He seemed to be staring at nothing, just keeping his eyes strait ahead. "I'd like to be alone now, if you'd please." I had never saw my father so calm. It was a stark contrast to the man that had just tried to escape his bed a few moments earlier.

"Yes sir. I will be on the other side of the door." Augustine replied before turning.

"Sydney, I'd appreciate it if you gave me a little time as well."

"What?" I was dumbfounded. "But,..."

"Sydney, please. I need some time to process all of this." His eyes were visibly filling with moisture.

My heart ached for him. She may have been my mother, but she was his wife. When you lose someone that you have been connected to for as long as they were, it was understandable to be ripped to pieces on the inside.

I turned to leave, tears still flowing, when he grabbed my hand. "I'm sorry Sydney. I'm so, so sorry."

"For what Daddy?" I hadn't called him that in a very long time. Yet, in this moment, it felt right.

He was silent for a moment before replying.

"I'm sorry that I've killed your mother. I'm so sorry Baby." He let go of my hand, and motioned for me to leave.

What could I say to that? I wanted to argue and tell him it wasn't his fault, that accidents happen, but as I looked back, I saw the tears slide slowly down his face, and thought better of it. In this state, there is no room for reasoning, only mourning. So, with my heart full of sorrow, I walked out of the door, praying to God for the strength to make it through the night.