The Inevitable

If you're here right now reading this, I would like to start off by saying THANK YOU for taking the time out of your busy schedule to read my story. Also, I would like to tell you all that I am a new writer, so if you see any spelling, grammar or just weird mistakes, then I am sorry. I go over the chapter a few times making sure it's perfect, but I do sometimes tend to miss a thing or two. 

I would also really appreciate it if you could vote for your favorite chapter, and then leave a comment letting me know what you thought of the chapter and what you assume and/or would like to happen next. I will be posting a new chapter every Thursday, so stay tuned and I hope you like it!! 

From: AuthorZ93 :)

** Picture: Lexi Hafner ** 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

"Ha! And I beat you again...of course." I say, proudly. Smiling from ear to ear.

"Confident, are we now?" My dad says, also smiling. I laugh softly as I pack away the chess table. My father and I have been major chess addicts ever since I was 5 years old. Twelve years later, and we still play two to three games every single night. You can sort of call it a 'Hafner' tradition. As of recently, I have been beating my dad in every single game that we play. Some would claim that he is just letting me win because he feels bad for me. And I am pretty darn sure that he is content with people believing that. However, I can assure you that I am simply beating his ass at this game because I can easily outsmart his every move. Now I do not mean to sound arrogant or proud, but that is the truth, and my dear father knows it. After winning thirteen championships at a nerdy chess club, he would think that no one could ever beat him. But of course, he taught me all of his tricks. So I would stay up for days at a time plotting out ways to outwit his moves. Finally, I succeeded. He knew of my plans all along, and I could feel an overwhelming sort of joy levitating from his heart when I finally beat him at his own game.

It has always been just my father and me. My mother left us for another life just before my fifth birthday. Thankfully, I don't remember much about her. Sadly, I cannot say the same about my father. Being a single parent is not exactly the easiest job in the world. My father is not a rich man, and my mother did not leave us with anything before she left us. Except for a gold locket that she gave me the night she left. I have it stashed somewhere in my room. My dad has asked me a few times to wear it, but I refused. Why would I? She left us. Does she really expect me to keep her memory alive by wearing an old piece of jewelry of hers? I got two words for you sister: Hell no!

I have always remembered my father having two jobs. One in the morning working in dry cleaning, and then a truck driver at night. As I got older, and my father grew weaker, he left his second job, and I ended up working at a grocery store two blocks away from my house. Of course I do not keep any of the money I make for myself, I help my dad pay off some of the bills. Working at a grocery store is probably one of the worst jobs you can have, but it could always have been worse. One of the perks of working in such a dreadful place is that I get 30% off everything in the store. Fortunately, we do not have to spend so much money that we do not have on groceries.

"I should never have taught you all of my secrets. You would have eventually developed some of your own tricks. You are sneaky, yet clever just like your..." He pauses and looks away. I already know that he was going to say, 'just like your mother.' The memory of her always upsets him. I put the chess table back in its place in the corner, and study my father. His big green eyes cover the majority of his face. If only I got those green eyes from him, maybe I would look prettier than I am right now. Nonetheless, I have had many people tell me that my brown eyes are nothing like they have ever seen before. Which clearly makes no sense, because to me they look like your everyday normal brown colored eyes. I look at the wrinkles under my father's eyes. Has he grown older over night? He looks much older than he really is. There are wrinkles all over his face and hands as well. He snaps me out of my daydream the second I hear him coughing, harshly. I rush to his side, making sure that he is alright. He has his arm placed across his face, covering it. Finally, he stops coughing.

"Papa," I say, with love, concern and uneasiness in my voice. I rush towards him placing my hand on his shoulder.

He removes his hand from his face and softly says, "I'm alright, honey. Seems like I have forgotten to take my meds. Can you please grab them for me?" Despite everything he is going through, he still somehow manages a smile.

Oh, right, perhaps there is one other thing I forgot to mention, my father has leukemia. He has had it ever since I was twelve years old. He refuses to take chemotherapy because he claims that it takes away from the time he has to spend with me. Doctors warn me that he does not have a long life to live. That he should be leaving us any day now. I immediately shake those negative thoughts away from my head, and run upstairs to look for his medicine. As I enter his room, I know exactly where everything is supposed to be. I spent a lot of time in this room when I was a child. When my mom left, my nights were restless. Nightmare after nightmare, and the worst part was that each nightmare was always different than the previous one. I would wake up screaming for my mom, but of course, my dad would come to me instead. He would carry me in his arms and take me to his bed and reassure me that everything is going to be okay. With his presence and his nearness, the nightmares would disappear. As months went by, I just gave up on sleeping in my own bed. I spent the next two years sleeping on my dad's bed, feeling safe and secure.

"Lexi, are you okay up there? Did you find them?" I hear my father faintly shout from downstairs.

I rush to the side table placed beside his bed and open the drawer. My dad, being the neat freak he is, has placed all his medicine in an orderly single file. I grab the one he needs and rush downstairs.