Dare to love me.

Prologue

Author Note: The story contains many flashbacks. Everything written in Italic is a flashback.

« Ladies and gentleman, this is Lily and I'm your chief flight attendant. On behalf of Captain Jack and the entire crew, welcome aboard American Airlines flight 95-785.

Non-stop service starts from 8 to 11 then continuing from 2 to 5.

Our flight time will be of 9 hours and 45 minutes. At this time, make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and that your seat belts are carefully fastened.

Also, your portable electronic devices must be set to 'airplane' mode until an announcement is made upon arrival. Thank you. »

I fasten my seatbelt following the flight attendant's instructions before getting my new thriller book out of my handbag. I turn to my father who is currently busy reading through his files.

« Holidays are over for you too huh? »

My father sighs and then smiles.

« Didn't think a whole month of a safari trip in Tanzania would fly by so fast »

Just when I am about to tell my dad how much fun I had this summer, the plane takes-off and my anxiety kicks in. I grip the seat-set as hard as I can, inhaling and exhaling, trying to keep my breathing steady.  My father looks at me and takes a hold of my hand, caressing it soothingly to try to calm me.

My dad is a lawyer. A very successful one to say the least. He is a shareholder in one of New York's biggest law firms: Bar-Lev & Ackner. Whilst he really loves his job, he never  fails to give me the attention a daughter needs from her father. He makes breakfast for me whenever he's home, he spends his Sundays in my company and we make pasta together on Wednesday nights. He provides me with everything I need and want. He also calls me very often when I travel to mom's new house in Malibu.

The uncontrollable shaking of the plane disrupts my chain of thoughts, making my heart race rapidly. The take-off shouldn't have lasted this long. Panic makes its way through the plane and suddenly everybody starts to yell. I hold the seat-sets so hard my knuckles turn white and try not to move. Not that I could.

My breathing gets uneven due to my asthma and I try my best to calm myself down, while my dad rummages desperately through my handbag in order to find the inhaler. His actions get suddenly interrupted by the stewardess who forcefully pushes him back into his seat.

My head starts to feel lighter and my breathing heavier while the alarm of the plane gets off and I start to lose my consciousness, but not before I see my dad shielding me from something hard that was about to make a fall on me.

A weak «  I love my child » is sung into my ear and everything turns black.

I jump out of my slumber swimming in my sweat. I take the inhaler from my nightstand to calm my breathing before laying back on my pillow.

A year and a half have passed since the incident yet the memory of it hasn't left my mind. Everyday I recall each and every moment passed on board before the crash, turning my dreams into nightmares, insisting on ruining the only time I could possibly dissociate from my harsh reality. The reality in which my dad is not living.