Run Little Lost Girl

Prologue

Edited✔️✔️

Prologue

Maybe. Just maybe if he wasn't such a fool he wouldn't have been in this mess.

Not only had he screwed himself over, but now the two most important lives in the world to him were at stake because of his own childish irresponsibility.

"Don't leave," his wife begged with pleading eyes. She looked so upset, he almost started crying as well. Her usual brown eyes of mirth and mischief now showed her true vulnerability through the thick wall of tears that blanketed her irises.

"Please, Abigail," he said with just as much pain in his voice as hers, rubbing her knuckles with the soft pads of his thumb. "This is for her. I wouldn't be doing this unless absolutely necessary. She needs protection."

"So protect her!" the woman, Abigail, cried and ripped her hand out of his in sudden anger. "Stay here with us."

"You know my magic is weakened here," he scolded, watching with observant eyes as her shoulders hunched over at his words.

The wall broke and tears descended down her cheeks like small waterfalls from each eye. She brought her hands up to muffle her sobs and the sight he was witnessing nearly brought him to his knees.

His wife's blonde hair was pulled every direction from her pulling at it stressfully all night. Her makeup from the night before still stained her cheeks from previous tears, and he remembered their long conversation from a few hours earlier while their daughter was asleep.

He hated this. He hated the secrets. He hated that he couldn't do anything about it. But the worst part was, was that it was all his damn fault.

Anger overwhelmed him as he pictured the face of the man he had once called friend and brother only to now see his greatest enemy, the very many who had threatened his family.

He looked away. "Let me at least say goodbye to her and then I'll go."

Another heart wrenching sob emitted from the young woman's mouth. She was scared. So utterly terrified with the idea that she couldn't make it on her own, that she couldn't raise the life they'd both created on her own. Whimpers one after another came from her as she watched as her husband's back retreat from the dining table into the living room where she was seated innocently on the couch, small legs dangling.

The man knelt down in front of the young girl on the couch whose raven black hair was pulled into two long braids down her back. Her stunning blue eyes were wide, not being able to comprehend that something very, very wrong was happening.

"Daddy has to go on a trip for work now and won't be back for a while," he explained to his daughter who was merely an oblivious toddler, barely five years old. His eyes were red and puffy, he knew, and were yet again becoming wet with tears. "Can you give Daddy a goodbye hug?"

The girl didn't hesitate to wrap her small, chubby arms around her father with her nose buried as far as it would go in the spot where his neck and shoulder met.

"Daddy, why are you crying?" she asked worriedly, unaware that her mom as well was crying in the other room, still trying to compose herself and failing.