Before hope is lost

CHAPTER 1 - LOSS AND GRIEF

What if? Would she? Two question I have tortured myself with everyday and night for the last two weeks. What if I had just let Mum carry on fussing over me instead of rushing her along out the door? Would she still be here? Would she still be waking me up with her singing whilst doing her morning routine or cleaning? Would she still be dragging Dad to dance with her in the middle of the kitchen whilst he was trying to cook food?

Poor, poor Dad. He's lost and he's trying his hardest not to show it, to be the big, tough alpha male. Probably thinking it would tear me apart to see him so broken but I know how much he's struggling. The light in his eyes has dimmed so much, his broad shoulders slumped. He seems to have aged ten years over the passing days since Mum was callously gunned down at the restaurant they had met and were planing to celebrate their twenty year anniversary. The sense of dread I felt when I saw the news, trying to get hold of dad to check if they were ok and unharmed has plagued me for two weeks.

"Breaking news just in, police have sealed off half of the town as reports come in of a man seen wielding a gun shouting threats at members of the public in the surrounding area"

My attention snaps up to the screen to see where the news report is coming from and i instantly recognise the street, more specifically the restaurant in the background that Mum and Dad have a booking for. Dread instantly pools in my stomach and my blood starts pumping around my head, i feel dizzy but I know I need to find my phone. I need to call Mom and Dad. I grab my mobile and hit my emergency contacts, dads number is first up,

"Come on, come on, please pick up, Dad"

After ringing both of them 4 times Dad finally picks up.

"Dad, thank god, I've been trying to call you, the news is on, whats-"

My heart drops at the sound of panic in Dad's voice, he's shouting down the phone and i can just about make out what he's saying. Shot. Ambulance. Hospital. The rushing sound is the only noise I can hear as my blood pumps faster and faster. I feel feint

"Wren! Are you listening?" Dad's shouting is what grounds me,

"Y-yes, I, I'm on my way" The panic is hitting me full force, my legs are wobbling, clutching the phone in a death grip. He hangs up and it's like something has snapped inside me, I get a burst of adrenaline and I start racing for the door not caring that I'm wearing my tattered pyjama bottoms, I throw on my coat and trainers, grab my car keys and I'm out the door, tearing my way into my beat up, shit show of a car.

The drive to the hospital is quick, pretty sure only because i broke nearly every law to get here. i pull up on a side bank not caring if the car gets clamped or towed off, I just need to get in there and know whats going on.

"I got a call from my Dad. my Mom was rushed in by ambulance, she was at the restaurant the shooter was, I need to know where she is, please" I'm sobbing at this point, the lady behind the desk looks startled as she asks for Moms name and details

"Abigail Rumis. Please hurry" I'm begging at this point.

I hear shuffling and my Dads voice calling out my childhood nickname as he rounds the corner and sees me "Little bird!" I don't even think about thanking the lady as I run from the desk towards my dad, barrelling into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably asking what happened.

"The shooter started swinging his gun around, your mother was trying to move closer to me. One minute she was there and the next she dropped to the floor, they've rushed her into surgery" he sounds level headed and calm but I'm sure that's just the shock talking for him, he looks like he's barely holding it together, glassy eyed, whole body trembling and his voice wavering. He leads me to the waiting room and slumps in one of the chairs while I pace the floor until he catches my hand and pulls me to sit next to him. I lean into him and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. I haven't said a word since speaking to the lady at the desk, I don't think i can string a sentence together without crumbling. My leg is bouncing up and down and my mind is a scattered, jumbled mess, what if I just let her carry on fussing over me? She might not have been there at that moment in time, that close to the shooter, if i had just let her carry on checking I would be okay. I don't know how much time passes but I'm sure it's hours, a very grim faced doctor comes out of the theatre doors, this can't be good, he holds himself stiff and he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders as he eyes me and Dad. The look on his face explains everything.