Boss Of My Heart

~ Helena ~

The sirens screamed through the night as the hospital doors swung open. My mother clutched my arm so tightly that her nails dug into my skin, her voice shaking with urgency. "Where’s my husband? Where is Richard Hart?"

"Please, ma’am, try to stay calm," a nurse pleaded, but my mother brushed past her. I followed closely, my legs trembling. The corridor was a whirlwind of doctors shouting orders, the wheels of a gurney screeching against the tiles. And then I saw him.

My dad.

Blood smeared across his face, his shirt ripped open, his body alarmingly still as doctors worked frantically to revive him. A locked black briefcase had fallen beside the gurney. He had held onto it just moments ago, but now it lay abandoned on the floor, like a secret he had taken with him to the end.

"No..." My voice broke. My mother cried out his name until the doors slammed shut in our faces, and he was swallowed by the emergency room.

Everything felt like a dream. Just hours earlier, he had been smiling at breakfast, calling me his princess. Just hours earlier, it was another family Wednesday.

That morning had been perfect.

It was family Wednesday our special day. My parents and I always made it unforgettable: games, laughter, and adventures. I woke up dancing to music, twirling into the bathroom while brushing my teeth, grinning at my reflection. "Today is going to be amazing," I told myself.

Downstairs, the smell of my mom’s cooking made me skip down the steps. "Good morning, Mom! Good morning, Dad!" I planted kisses on their cheeks.

"Someone's in a good mood," Dad joked, his smile warm and welcoming.

"Of course! It’s family Wednesday!" I laughed, and the three of us dove into Mom’s special burritos paired with pineapple juice.

But then his phone rang.

In an instant, the cheerful vibe shifted. I could see it, the way Dad’s smile stiffened, his eyes turning cold as if the outside world had barged into our cozy kitchen.

"What’s wrong, Dad? Is everything okay?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice.

"It’s work," he said, his tone flat and guarded, like a wall had gone up.

"Does that mean we won’t be going to the beach?" Mom’s voice was tinged with disappointment.

"No, you both go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later." He leaned down to kiss my forehead. "I promise."

But as he walked out, he took a briefcase with him that I’d never seen before. It looked heavy. Locked. Full of secrets.

At Laurel Hill State Park Beach, everything felt golden. Mom and I were laughing, splashing in the waves, munching on sandwiches and chips, soaking up the sun. I wore the bright, cheerful bikini Dad had picked out for me. For a moment, I managed to forget the unsettling look in his eyes.

Then Mom’s phone rang.

Her face drained of color as she listened. I quickly snatched the phone from her trembling hands.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Is your father Richard Hart?" a woman’s voice quivered on the other end.

"Yes...what’s going on?"

"There was… an incident. He’s at St. Charles Hospital."

The world tilted. "What? What happened?"

"I think you should come quickly."

Without a second thought, Mom and I jumped into the car, and for the first time in my life, I drove like my very soul was on fire.

The hospital was a whirlwind of chaos. Doctors rushed by, nurses shouted, and Mom was in tears.

"Please! How is he? What happened?" I begged the doctor who finally paused long enough to give me an answer.

"It wasn’t a typical accident," he said. "His car was found off the road. We’re doing everything we can to save him. Pray that he pulls through."

Pray.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as we stood outside the emergency room, our hands gripping each other so tightly that they turned white. Then, the doctor stepped out, his eyes focused on the ground.

"I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

In that moment, our world crumbled. Mom let out a cry and rushed through the doors, and I hurried after her. Dad lay there, motionless, his body devoid of life. I was handed his briefcase along with a crumpled piece of paper, just a date and time scrawled on it. My heart felt like it had been hollowed out.

The funeral felt like a blur of dark clothes and murmured condolences. The sound of dirt hitting the coffin rang in my ears like a storm. Mom leaned against me, tears streaming down her face, and I tried to be strong, but inside, I was burning with grief.

When we got home, the silence was deafening, each room echoing with his memory. I wrapped myself in one of his shirts, clutching it like a lifeline, and cried until sleep finally took me.

I thought the nightmare was over. That his death was just a tragic accident.

But that night, as I stared at the stars from the balcony, my phone buzzed. An email from someone I didn’t recognize appeared.

"Your father didn’t die by accident. Be careful about who you trust."

A shiver ran down

my spine.

Family Wednesday had ripped my family apart. And this was only the beginning.