Daniel Simmons, better known by his clients as Dr. Diggy, makes his living as a sex therapist with high profile clientele. He works in Los Angeles, the city of angels and the city of stars. He takes his job very seriously, and he's very good at it...
"For you," Isaiah says, though it sounds like it hurts him to talk. "maybe."
"Why did you do that?" I ask. "I thought you were on his side. You called me here."
"He thought I was, too. I called you here because I thought you would bring actual backup" Isaiah says with a breathy chuckle. "I guess I should've known better. Like I said, I love you Simon, and I always will."
Diggy struggles with his father, just as Lip bursts into the room. Fiona turns and shoots him without thinking about it. Justine grabs her ankle and knocks her down, grabbing the chair and bringing it down on her body. Fiona cries out in pain, and this sets Hakeem off as he tackles Justine to the ground, and my mother grabs the gun extra gun in her shaky hands, tears still spilled from her eyes.
Daniel "Diggy" Simmons
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My father gets a good hit to my jaw, cupping his hands and then smacking my ears, and I'm temporarily rendered deaf, my ears ringing and my head pounding from the impact. White hot pain fills my head.
He brings his good leg forward and pushes me off of him with his foot. I roll to the side, but quickly regain myself, digging my thumbs into his eyes.
I can't hear it, but I know he lets out a strangled cry, and I press harder, planning to gauge his eyes out, anger bubbling inside of me and taking control of my actions. He tried to kill Simon, my mother turned on me, and she tried to kill him, too. Now I just want them both to die.
He grabs me around my neck and starts to squeeze, so hard that I can't breathe. I press my thumbs in harder, but the exertion is become too much with the lack of oxygen, and slowly I start to lose strength.
I look over at Simon, who holds Isaiah's dying form, but Simon is safe—and that's all that matters. My father tried to kill him. My mother tried to kill him.
With a sudden resurgence of strength, I bring my knee into my father's groin, with as much strength as I can manage. I scramble for the gun, grabbing it in my hand, and then standing up and pointing it down at him.
I stare down at him, and he looks up at me, realizing for the first time that he's powerless, that I have the power to end his life. As I look into his pathetic eyes, everything he's ever done to me, everything he's ever made me feel, all comes rushing back to me at once, making me shake with fury, but I hold the gun steady, pointed right at his head.
"You don't want to do this, son." My father says, holding his hands up, his lip busted and a scratch on his cheek.
"When have you ever called me son?" I growl through my teeth. "Huh?!"
"I admit. I was a terrible father. I could've done a lot of things differently, but Dig, we can work on things." Seven says, pleading for his life. "Please, I want to work things out with you, son. I want to be a part of your life moving forward."
