"But what if I'm scared, daddy?"
Sara's voice was tiny, plaintive, her eyes huge. It still haunts me, as my response confirmed the damnation of my soul.
"There are things we all have to do," I said with as much calm as I could muster. "Daddy does things he doesn't like doing too." My knees were weak. I squatted down by her side to hide it, putting a hand on her face, fixing a smile on mine.
Such a beautiful thing, my daughter. So much like her mother.
I kissed Sara's cheek, hoping her six years did not give her the vision to see through the falseness propping up my facade of strength. I swept my pain behind it.
"Do whatever they ask you to do. Be good for them." I straightened and nodded to the man in the suit who had been watching us with unresponsive eyes. I met those dead orbs with my own silent pleading, but it was so much sea foam against a cold, rocky shore.
(story preview only)
Image Credit for title image. Edited by @negativer
Thank you to the great folks at the Writers Block on Discord. Hell of a community of writers there, helping each other get better at what they enjoy doing.
