I awoke with a start, a thin film of sweat covering my body.
'That dammed nightmare!'
I got up and walked over to my bathroom. Flipping the light switch, I looked into the mirror, seeing my zombie like state. Bags under my eyes, emaciated frame, and tired eyes. It looked as though with a gust of wind, I'd never be seen again.
That's when I heard it...
The screams...
I froze, those screams were the same from my dreams. I pinched my arm, but I was wide awake. I grabbed my handgun from my bedside table, and slowly rounded the corner, almost hurling at the sight.
Jamey's throats was ripped out, and Jamesey was somehow still alive, even though she was in a pool of her own blood.
"Sweetie! Hey, y...you're gonna be alright, ok? W- were gonna fix you up..."
I panicked, even though I was ex-cop, I'd never dealt with a wound like this. It was a deep, wide gash, across her side, up to her elbow, down to her hips.
'I l... love you dad... d-don't Forget th-at.'
That was the last time I heard her voice.
"Jamesey? S-sweetie?" She couldn't be... dead. She went limp in my arms. Eyes going void of emotion, and face relaxing into one void of ease, her mouth slightly parting. I didn't know I was crying until I felt a single tear fall down my cheek, and it fell on to my daughters cheek. A painful sob passed through my lips. Wracking my body with more sobs, I cried. I cried at the sight of my two sixteen year old children, dead on the floor, and I was to late to save them...
It's my fault...
