The Two Missing People

Chapter 4~ The Jets

There was silence between us, in which I stared at Pablo's torn face in horror.
"You ... killed your wife?"
"I did!" He wailed, his voice dripping in pain and fear and disgust.
Falling back into the bench, I watched Pablo tear at his hair and cry. Yet I did not want to reassure him, or comfort him, because how could he of done such a horrible thing?
"And Fifi loved her and I loved her and she was so nice and she-" he heaved a loud sob and continued shrieking, "she smiled and laughed and loved us and was so kind and so generous and she would spoil Fifi and give her secret presents and whisper into my ear about how beautiful she was and she was a really, really good mom."
I could not bare the crying, and pressed my hands against my ears. "Shut up! Just shut up!"
Pablo covered his face with his hands and silenced.
"Now, please tell me WHY you did this."
"I was drunk! I was so drunk!" He wailed. "I was drinking at the pub with my friends, and I came home, and Tia was there with Fifi and they were watching a tv show that I hated. Tia saw me and saw that I was drunk, so she tried to get me out of the room and away from Fifi. I got mad. I yelled. Fifi came in and asked what was wrong and I ... I hit Fifi, so Tia slapped me. I got even more mad and then it was all chaos."
I was frozen to my seat, getting more and more sickened.
"And how did you kill her?"
"I hit her on the head with a frying pan I think. I can't quite remember."
Finally, I stood. "You monster." I spat, feeling physically sick. I ran to the door of the house. "Sober up and then come inside. Fifi can't see you like this." With that, I stepped into the cool of the house and slammed the door behind me. A part of my heart reached for the poor man, but the tougher, missionair part of me did not want anything with the man anymore. I will leave, I concluded, tonight.
But what about Fifi? I would have to protect her from her alcoholic father. Tomorrow morning I would leave.
I walked into the dining room. Fifi was sitting in her place, her knees pressed against her chest, weeping quietly. My heart broke at such a sad sight.
"Fifi." I walked to the girl and sat next to her, opening my arms. She squeezed into them and buried her face into my shoulder. "It will be ok. Don't worry."
She looked at me, her eyes red. "I'm really scared. I'm not brave anymore. I'm just scared."
I winced at her words. "Don't be. Your safe with me. I'll protect you."
"He hurt me. He hurt mummy."
"He won't anymore ok? You're safe."
"I want ... I want ..." Her voice trembled and she broke off.
"You want her back?"
"Yes."
I could not reply to that. I had nothing more but to hug her tightly and dry her running tears. Moments passed, where the little girl steadied her tears and gulped down sobs. Suddenly, the living room door opened, and Pablo hobbled in, his face enveloped in utter pain, like he was the one that had a frying pan slam into his head. I stood before Fifi, shielding her from her father.
"Go." I said, and more fiercely: "get away!"
His face crumbled and dissolved any hope or light in his eyes. "I ..." He swayed. "I failed as a father." With that, he launched up the stairs and away.
Fifi peaked from behind. "Is he gone."
"Yes." I said curtly. I turned to face her. "Listen, Fifi. I'm leaving tomorrow."
Her eyes widened. "No, don't leave!" She cried.
I groaned quietly, torn between my words and hers. "I ... I have to."
"Please no. I'm scared!"
"Caria will protect you."
"But you are big and brave."
"Anyone is stronger then your father. He is a pathetic alcoholic." I muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing." I knelt and held her hands to my chest. "Will it help if you sleep in my room tomorrow?"
She nodded.
Quietly, we walked up the stairs and to my room, closing and locking the door. I fiddled with an alarm clock by the bed, and set the alarm to five in the morning.
"You want to sleep in the bed?" I asked.
Fifi crawled under cover as the answer. "I'm tired."
Exhaustion hit me like a wave, and I stumped to the lights. Flicking them off, I took a blanket and a pillow from the cupboard, and lay them on the floor by the side of the bed. I had slept on the floor countless times, once on the ground of the amazon rainforest, when Gareth had forgotten the tents in the helicopter back in the city of Rio. Leaves pricked my skin, ants crawling through my clothes, and mosquitos feasted on my skin. The smooth, cool floor of the room was fine compared to other experiences.
"Wolly?" Asked a tiny voice. I heard the ruffle of sheets as Fifi shifted in the bed. "Are you asleep?"
Lifting my head, I pulled the blankets over me. "Not yet."
"Can you come her?" Fifi's soft voice was sweet and alluring.
I got up and went to her, sitting by her still body as she searched and found my hand. "Stay here."
I nodded. "I will."
Fifi closed her eyes, her grip on my hand loosening. "Ni'night."
"Goodnight."
Fifi's head rolled to the side, and her hand slipped out of my grip. A couple of minutes passed, as I watched Fifi inhale and breathe out. How could I leave such a helpless and innocent child? She was strong, brave, but nothing compared to her monstrous father.
"Fifi?" I whispered.
There was no answer, and I carefully stood. She shifted her hand and slipped it under the blanket. Careful to not wake the sleeping girl, I returned to my bed and collapsed onto the blankets. With a sigh, my eye lids drooped, and I feel asleep thinking of Fifi.