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Eric crashed through the door at such a speed he almost knocked himself out. The supply closet's door gave up the fight of keeping him locked inside. The bang temporarily deafened him as he struck a table and fell sideways to the floor. The chair that hit his head toppled over and created more of a mess than before. The impact of striking the various objects was enough to force Eric into unconsciousness, but the adrenalin in his system and the desperate need to rescue his father kicked into a relentless drive he had never experienced.

"Dad," Eric muttered weakly. He turned onto his stomach and began pushing himself up, grabbing hold of the toppled table in the process. Receiving a slight boost, Eric found his feet. His legs were ready to buckle, but the sight of his father keeling over on the floor gave him the strength to remain standing. A pool of blood was making its way to where he stood, and he wasted no more time in getting to him.

Eric hobbled to Frank in record time and knelt next to him. The blood sunk into his clothes, and he could feel it on his knees, but he didn't care. He grabbed the tablecloth from the table beside them and moved his father's hand from the wound.

It was the most devastating image he'd ever seen in his life. The gash in his throat was so deep and wide, he could see the muscles contort and the blood spew without any signs of slowing down. He pressed the towel down on his throat, but within seconds, it was drenched in blood. There was no way he would stop the bleeding.

"Hold on Dad, I'll phone for help," Eric's voice broke as he looked at the counter for the telephone. "You'll have to keep hold of the towel or you'll bleed out."

"Er... Eric..." Frank spluttered, blood gushing from his mouth. Eric wept at the sight. His father's death was inevitable, he knew it, but he had to keep fighting or he'd regret giving up for the rest of his life.

"It's okay, Dad. Just hold this, okay?"

Frank did as he was told, though he searched Eric's eyes, desperate to tell him something. Eric tore away from him and sprinted to the telephone. He picked it up off the holder and dialled for an ambulance.

"Hello? I need an ambulance right away at the Pandora Café on Meadow Falls. Please, hurry. My father's throat has been slashed. My dad..." Eric said in a rush, putting the phone down before the operator had a chance to speak. He was about to run to his dying father, when he saw the freshly-washed pile of towels further down the counter.

He dashed to them and grabbed the whole pile. From the corner of his eye, he could see something outside the glass. Watching with hands pressed against the window was a figure in a black raincoat. With the hood up, Eric recognized him as the man who attacked his father. The thing that stood out the most about the figure was the shady white mask he was wearing. It was sprayed with blood and shaded with brown specs of mud.

The man in the white mask slowly turned away from the window and walked toward the alley. Eric was ready to make pursuit and headed for the door, but then he remembered the towels in his hands and looked at his father on the floor. He was shaking violently. He didn't want the attacker to get away, but he couldn't let his father die.

With the towels ready to place on his father's throat, Eric skimmed through the tables and once again knelt beside him. He pulled away the bloody towel and placed the new ones over Frank's neck. Frank grabbed his shaking hand.

"My... boy..." Frank's voice was strained and almost non-existent. Eric knew he was in more pain by speaking, but didn't want to stop him. He could see the life slowly draining from his father's wild eyes. He knew this could be the last time his father ever spoke to him. Despite being what people consider a macho man, Eric didn't hold back on the tears. "Your mother... loved you..."

Remnants of the Damned (Abyssal Sanctuary #1)Read this story for FREE!