DAVE. My hands immediately grip tightly onto the stone bench as I feel my legs weakly give out beneath me. My knees jar, from the sharp and sudden drop. The floor boards rattle and creak. But most of all my heart feels as though it has just stopped beating.
I dial the police, with shaking hands and a heavy heart. The dispatcher questions on who could be of assistance, then begins to ask questions on the current situation. Her voice radiates moods, of pity and sorrow. She sounds young, I wonder if she has a family, that she loves. My voice sounds unbelievably strong and stern, but is unlike none other part of how my body was feeling.
'Right sir, calm down the police are on the way.' She assures me.
My heavy breathing becomes uneven as my mind pictures and portrays the evil things in which may be happening to my poor angle Harper. Rape, torture, murder.
'Fuck the dirty bastard. I will kill you!!' I scream so loud, that the walls reflect the sound and it echoes in my ears.
When was the last time I told her I loved her? I can't even recall, and it makes my heart ache even more. My vision blurs and hold my head high, not allowing the tears to roll down my cheeks. But only lonely one escapes, displaying our situation. It was alone. I am alone. Harper is alone.
I don't know where I'm going, I don't have any sense of direction. All I know is that my head is thumping, and warm blood is slowly trickling out of the gash made on left side of my head. It's sticky and covers the neckline of my thin nightwear.
'It's going to alright, my sweet precious baby.' I whisper. Rubbing my tummy gently in circular motions.
I'm cold, it's cold inside this dark, cold room. No light dare to shine shines, and with it no hope seems to either.