Bloodlust (Lesbian Story)

The Escape

{Cam Cacciatore - Bruno gissoni}

CHAPTER 4 - The Escape

Eve's POV

I walked through the frozen ground of the cemetery, taking a long well-known route. It seemed that my legs had a mind of their own as they conducted me through the path that led to my father's grave.

The cemetery was far from the city, it was almost forgotten. No one ever went there. The grass was tall and took over all the area, weeds grew in the old and broken gravestones, making them their home.

I went to the newest part of the cemetery, which also wasn't in great shape. The path consisted of dirt and the occasional broken gravestone piece. I've always wondered why Isobelle had chosen this hellhole to be my father's final resting place. She most likely just found the cheapest one and signed the deal.

When I got to my father's grave I kneeled down, taking my time to read the inscription. Just four words laid there, 'Beloved father and husband.' And the date of birth and death was inscribed below it.

I stayed for what it seemed like hours in front of my father's grave. Just looking at it and thinking about him.

He was a very strong man for his age. His black hair was beginning to whiten in some parts, but even then I've always felt safe around him. I had the impression that as long as I was with him, nothing bad would ever happen to me. I thought he would always be there for me, that he was invincible. But he wasn't.

I remembered the day I found out he was dead. Police cars surrounded my house, as I got home. I walked in, in haste. Everyone was crying. A city guard was in front of them, trying to calm them down. I came in quickly, only to realize that my father wasn't there. My heart clenched, as the worse thought crossed my mind.

"Where's dad?" I asked desperately. The guard turned and walked towards me, he didn't say a single word but I could see it in his face. I knew what he was going to say. I couldn't accept it.

"No! It can't be true!" The guard tried to calm me down but nothing worked. I sobbed as he explained what had happened.

My father had been killed in a crossfire between two street gangs. My mind couldn't process it, he never did anything dangerous, he had a normal job and a normal life, he was just a lawyer. How could it end like this?

I couldn't believe he was dead. Not like that. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, they told me. Something deep down kept telling me that that wasn't true. I just wanted to scream, to let all my frustration and anger out. But I didn't, I never did.

I looked at my father's grave one last time before getting up and turning around. I went back home, tired. And yet, all I could think was about him. Everything in that place reminded me of my dad. I went towards the stairs quietly, only to stop right in front of it. I looked to my left, cautiously.

My father's office was still intact. No one had entered it since he died, except to clean it. I walked slowly to it and opened the door. I could smell my father's cigars in the air. I remembered that smell as his smell. I felt tears starting to form in the corner of my eyes, and this time, I didn't hold them in. No one was there to see me cry.

I sat on his chair, feeling the old dark leather against my back. It was the only thing in his office that wasn't in perfect condition. I had asked many times for him to just throw that old thing away, but he refused. He loved that old chair.

I touched the mahogany table. It had perfect designs surrounding it that reminded me of small waves. On top of the table, there was a little iron box closed with a delicate lock. I opened the drawer looking for the key, which proved to be a wasted effort.