Gone tomorrow

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I groaned as my head began to pound lightly, my back was burning and stinging. Hard dirt clung to my cheek along with my sides and I forced my eyes open as I stared at what was left of my home.
Blackened braces, and ash in the grass.
The house hadn't collapsed completely, but the kitchen had blown to bits.
My room was smoky, but there would probably be a few salvageable things. My dad's room and work place however were burned to practical nothing.
After struggling to my knees I realized I'd fallen in a muddy ditch with my dad, who was still unconscious.
His case lay a few feet away from him and my bundle of things I'd tried to save was on top of the suitcase. They were a bit charred and muddy, but they were alright.
I crawled over to my father's still figure and shook him lightly.
"Papa?" I asked before biting my lip.
"Papa, please...open your eyes."
I didn't dare check his pulse, his eyes wouldn't open and his chest wasn't moving as he laid on his back in the dirt.
My eyes watered as I shook him again.
"Papa please!" My voice broke as I became more frantic to wake him up.
I screamed and shouted at him to get up, to open his eyes, to move! But he did nothing. He laid in the dirt, unmoving.
Eventually I set my head to his chest, and to my horror, I didn't hear a heart beat.
My Papa, was gone.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I choked on my sobs.
Why? Why did he have to die? Jacob promised he'd leave him alone!
I screamed to the morning sky in agony as my heart beat my ribs painfully.
The one person, who'd loved me unconditionally, who'd been there for me every day of my life, was gone.
And there was no one to blame by myself. He hadn't been attacked, he'd fallen and hit his head, I just hadn't gotten him help fast enough.
I cupped my father's face in my hands, crying with my forehead against his. He hadn't been dead for more than a day, I'd come home to him alive. But between the smoke, heat, and his wound. He'd died in the night while I was unconscious.
"Papa no." I whispered hoarsely as I continued to cry.
I would have spent hours, morning over him. But a rustling in the trees caught my attention. Perhaps I would have ignored it, let what ever beast hid in the underbrush take me by surprise. But I still had someone, someone who wanted me, wanted me alive. My dad wouldn't have wanted me to die either, especially if he knew what I'd found.
So I wiped my eyes, glaring into the trees, if something had come to take my father's body for a meal, they had another thing coming.

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