A Drive to the Park

By Carl Bluesy

“Why did you let me die daddy?” Cindy asked.

I was stunned and at a loss for words. An oncoming Honda Civic swerved into my lane. My windshield filled with light. I was in pain as the seat belt tightened across my chest. The light vanished along with my vision. I thought I saw my life flash before my eyes, only it wasn’t my entire life, it was only the past few hours.

Robin’s voice was dry, the way she said my name, “Frank,” so flat and emotionless. Any love she had for me is gone now. She doesn’t mind being Mrs. Crow. She prefers it to the cost of a divorce.

“Where would you like to go today, my sweet bee? You can choose wherever you want,” I said as I drove down the road.

“The park, the one by our old home,” She said.

This came as no surprise. It’s been so long since we were able to spend quality time together. After the divorce, a new job forced me three hours away making custody an ongoing struggle. A month ago, I could go to the park with my daughter every night after dinner. Now, as she sat in the back of the truck, she met my gaze in the rear view mirror. Her eyes burned deep into mine.

The screams from the driver of the Civic pulled me out of my unconscious state. Cindy remained silent in the back seat, her face white as a corpse. I fear her warning had come true. Her eyes moved to meet mine, she put my mind at ease, her bright blue eyes overflowing with silent tears.

I checked my body over for any broken bones or signs of blood before I turned back to my girl. The truck had flipped on its side, my passenger window had smashed and glass was everywhere. Dirt took the place of my passenger window. It was a struggle to undo her seat belt at this odd angle. I lifted Cindy out of the back seat onto my lap. I held the door open above my head as I helped Cindy climbed out of the truck. My arm was sore when I woke up. My arm felt like it was ready to fall off.

I sat Cindy beside the truck. My hand rested on her shoulder as I searched for a path we could take over to the car we had crashed into. The truck had knocked down power lines. With live wires draped across the road, the walk would be a risk. How can I justify carrying my little girl through such a hazard? I can’t leave her here, that was out of the question.

I picked her up in my arms. She was still light enough to handle with ease. With each step I took, I had an image of what would happen to my girl if she slipped from my arms down to the wires on the ground. My heart ached with every step I took toward the car.

When we got to the car, we found the driver sitting on the ground, blood covering her arms. I kneeled beside her to assist with her wounds the best I could. A crowd gathered to watch in horror. She only had a few cuts that needed to be wrapped. The paramedics would check her over for internal bleeding and other injuries.

I needed to wrap the woman’s wounds. My shirt would have to do for now. I was surprised to see an ambulance arrive so soon, I must have been passed out longer than I thought. If I had reminded Cindy to stay here, she wouldn’t have gone toward the paramedics She would never have walked into the power lines. She told me this would happen. I should have been able to stop her.

“CINDY!” I cried.

I ran over to her and picked her up. Maybe if I was fast enough, I could save her. A few burns would heal in no time. I was too close to tell if I had made it in time. Unable to slow down I grabbed onto her and flung us both, we flew through the air. I held her tight and braced for impact. Despite how I tried, the crack I heard when we connected with the ground.

Terrified to look down, Cindy felt lifeless in my arms. It wasn’t until the paramedic was by my side that I dared to look down. The bone I heard break on impact was trying to push its way through the skin of Cindy’s neck. Her head bobbed to the side, being held on by the muscle and skin of her neck as if it were rubber. I held her head up, willing myself to believe that she was still alive.

I only became aware of the tears running down my cheek when I looked into her eyes. I saw the innocent face I once knew, drained of all life and emotion. The paramedic took her from my arms with ease. I tried to hang on, but I had no strength left.

I followed the paramedic back to the ambulance as they examined Cindy’s body. Seeing her in the back of the ambulance gave me some kind of false hope that they would be able to save her. Despite what I knew, I was desperate to cling on to any possibility Cindy would survive.

I tried to answer the paramedic’s questions the best I could. My head was full of questions but I knew I would not be able to ask them until they had the information they needed. The final question they had for me was why I tackled my daughter.

“What do you mean why, isn’t it obvious? She was surrounded by power lines. I did everything I could to save her from being electrocuted,” I said.

The paramedic gave me a confused look for a moment before he responded.

“Sir those aren’t power lines. They are telephone lines. They’re safe to touch although I wouldn’t recommend, if avoidable. But your daughter’s life was not in any danger where she was.

”My heart dropped at his response. I had no reason for my disbelief, but at the same time how can I believe that she was safe and the only danger to her was me. How can I go on knowing that I was the sole reason that Cindy’s prediction came true? I’m the one who’s supposed to keep her safe.

I was her daddy.

How could I let her die?

Bio: Carl Bluesy has been writing horror stories for 6 years. Writing Horror stories has been a passion of his. Short stories of Carl Bluesy have appeared on websites such as Creepy Pasta and The Yard: Crime Blog, and have been narrated on YouTube.)You can find him here on Twitter.

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Publishing Editor for The Yard: Crime Blog.

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