C.R.A.N.E (Strange Editing WiP)

Chapter Twenty Eight: Letter

"I think you're ready to have a little reunion." he said in a very unpleasant way.

The two guards returned and entered the room. When I saw what they brought with them, my heart stopped.

One guard held a little girl by her arm while the other held a pistol.

It was her. Accalia.

She looked so terrified and sick. Her eyes were swollen, like she had been crying for quite some time. Never in my life had a wanted to see her like that.

"Papa?" she sniffled.

"Accalia! Dad's here. Don't you worry." I quickly said to make sure she wasn't scared.

"Aww how sweet of you to comfort her." he said unsympathetically.

"Don't you dare lay a fucking finger on her!"

"Language, Roukan. You don't want to be a bad influence." the captain said. "Cover her eyes."

At once the guard holding Accalia reached a cloth from his pocket and covered her eyes.

"Papa!" she said crying in fear.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" I exclaimed, trying to break free from the chair, but no luck. "Release me right now you sick fuck!"

But the captain just laughed.

Accalia didn't stop crying, and even I began to tear up in fury.

"Accalia just listen to my voice. Everything will be okay." I said, choking on every second word.

The other guard began putting one bullet into the pistol and aimed for her head.

"She's just a kid! Do not hurt her!" I yelled.

"Don't worry Roukan. She will not feel a thing."

"No! You guys are mental! Accalia just listen to me. I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too...papa." she cried.

And a loud bang followed.

* * *

I woke up in the cell in cold sweat. Gasping for air.

Oh thank god, I thought. It was just a nightmare. Nothing but a nightmare, right?

But my paranoid thoughts convinced me to believe that maybe this wasn't reality, but another dream. I thought hard to figure out how I can prove this was real.

Then I remembered that I had a fourth injection in the nightmare. I had three the first time, so if I had a fourth mark on my arm, that meant that...my daughter, my own daughter is dead.

I was terrified. Terrified to find out if it happened. I didn't want anything to happen to her.

Or what if I was overreacting, and it's only the serotrix messing up with my mind?

There was only one way to find out.

I stared at my arm, still sore. Along with my leg that was internally screaming in horrible pain.

I reached for my sleeve to reveal how many there were, but my mind seemed to forcefully stop the hand reaching the sleeve. My hand trembled vigorously, and my breathing pattern became harsher. I was definitely not ready for this.

Just pull it quickly, like a band-aid.

I rolled up the sleeve quickly, with my eyes closed.

I peeked at my arm, with the vision still too blurry to see how many there was.

Looking at my arm properly, there were three.