Miss Classified (Book 3 of the Miss Series)

Thirty One:

Aimee

They told me my dad was shot while trying to protect a group of fifteen women and children, as well as his squadron. They said he died instantly, that it was painless, that he had died as a true hero. I was heartbroken, because no matter how much my dad used to take out his anger on me, I have so many good memories with him, that outweighed the times he got angry.

It was only in his later years of PTSD that he started to become crazy. He wasn't always like the crazy psycho he became. I saw my real dad when they called him back for one last mission. He was real with me for the first time in many many years. He sat me down and told me that he was so sorry, and asked for my forgiveness, and even told me that nothing he could ever do or say could make up for what he has done, and so he wants to serve his country to try as a start to make up for his sins.

I couldn't forgive him, back then. It was too complicated and I was too hurt by the man I used to love to ever think about forgiving him, but when he came home, his body in a coffin from his "last mission". He didn't know how right he would be... Back then, I knew my dad came back as the man who he used to be- he had sacrificed himself for his entire squadron, and that was enough for me. He had redeemed himself and I forgave him.

What I didn't expect in my entire lifetime, was to hear his voice again. As I turn around to look for the person who had stolen my father's voice, everything started to feel like my body was numb and that I am going to fall to the floor. In the flesh, living and breathing and moving, stands my father. I can feel the blood drain from my body and my heart stop beating, and I almost forget to breathe. I blink. I must be imagining it.

It is not necessarily something that hasn't happened before. It used to happen often in the early days of my dad's death. I used to see the old him with me and he would appear in random places, like sitting on the couch in my living room, or stirring a cup of coffee in the kitchen, or telling me goodnight as he closed my bedroom door... and then he stopped appearing and I saw him less, until he was no longer there. Seeing a vision of him again shook me up.

"Aimee, are you alright?" The vision asks. I blink and smack my forehead a few times. When I open my eyes, the vision is still there. My dad looks just the same as he always did, except he is older and he is missing his right arm.

"I guess you lost the arm as punishment for your crimes." I whisper, shaking my head at the irony. It was hard to forgive, harder to forget all the things he did. Part of them will always be a part of me. He laughs bitterly.

"It's the least that I deserve." He shakes his hand and reaches out to put his hand on my shoulder. I flinch, and my head starts to spin suddenly. The hand... the hand touching my shoulder isn't a vision. I can feel it, and not just in my head, because when I reached out to touch the vision, I could feel a heartbeat, my hand met rock solid flesh. The man standing in front of me is my father, living and breathing, and my body can't take it and I feel myself go numb. Suddenly, I'm on the floor and... the lights are in the shapes of apples too... strange how I've never noticed that before... and...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I blink open my eyes, I am sitting amongst the memories of my teenage years. I am in my old bedroom, and everything is just as I left it... the stuff I packed away to take to my own place after he died leaves a few empty spaces, but everything else, my bookshelves full to the brim and photos are pasted all over the walls... Memories captured in stills, fragments of the happy pieces of my life decorate my old bedroom, and the dent in the wall from where I got so angry at my father that I punched it and dented it is still there. I painted a big sunflower to try and hide it, but it didn't really work. What surprises me though, it that the room still smells the exact same... like pine trees with the smallest hint of red wine, and that there isn't a speck of dust... anywhere. I thought this place was bought by a developer to convert it into a grocery store, but apparently not. It is still just the same as it always was.