"And I can understand that... but if you were old enough to have a daughter, I'm sure as hell you'd stop anything from entering her hospital room." He said, his voice sounding stern, "am I right?"
"Yes sir but-"
"I'm not hearing anymore of this, I think your number is well known to the entire nation; so I know who to call when she's good and ready."
With that final word, Dad shuts the door in the officer's face. Letting out a huff, he leaned his head against the door and mumbled to himself. By the looks of his side profile, stress coats him like a blanket; pulling at the strings of my heart. I didn't mean to upset him, or to put him under as much pressure as this.
"Hi Dad," I rasp, making him jump, "thanks for sending them away."
He turns quickly, letting out a sigh of relief, "Presley... sweetheart, I'm so glad to see you are alright!"
"As alright as I can be," I smile softly, sitting up a little on the bed.
Dad walks further into the room, pulling up a chair next to the table; taking the coffee cup into his hands. He lets out a breath, cracking a small smile just for me. Behind that smile of his, I see it all: his cover of just how much the accident had terrified him. I don't comment that I've caught on... Instead, I send him a soft smile back because I'm truly happy that he's the first face I get to see.
"You gave us all a bit of a scare," he says, pulling the chair closer to the bed, "had to send Harry home multiple times during the night... he kept coming back and finding excuses."
I laugh at the thought, "that boy worries too much."
"Knowing that boy is your neighbour and best friend is looking out for you, when I can't, gives your old man a piece of mind."
"Dad," I sigh, "I had to move out sooner or later."
He gives me a weak smile, "I know but you'll always be my little girl Pres."
I reach out to grasp his hand, "I'm okay... see. I'm right here."
With a deep breath, his chilling voice states, "... the police."
"What about them?"
"Were you ever questioned by them?"
"No," I say, "not until recently."
He frowns, his hands lifting up the files on the desk to flick through them, "why... I wonder-"
This time I'm the one who frowns, squinting at him from across the table. What was he about to say?
"Wonder what?"
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Yesterday, the day I dreaded most had finally come, a warm sunny afternoon and I was at a coffee shop with a... let's say, 'friend'. When I got the message 'Dear old Presley, has had an accident...' off an unknown number. Now, I'm not a stupid man, I know when text messages are scams and when to ignore them. But this one, I couldn't ignore; for the chilling sensation that ran right down my back said this wasn't a scam. I had to confirm it right away.
