Her Bleeding Father

Sophia stepped into the living room; silence greeted her. Something felt off, but she couldn’t place her finger on it.

The house was quiet. Too silent.

Not that it was ever loud. One of her father’s men was usually sprawled across the couch with the television blaring.

Some watched the television while others lounged close to the front door.

Now, there was no one, just an eerie silence settling over the house. The television screen was blank, the sofas empty.

She crossed the hallway towards her father’s study, where she knew he would be, and stopped outside his door.

Her knuckles tapped lightly against the door. No answer. She shifted on her feet, awaiting a response, yet there was no answer.

She pushed the door. Her father sat behind his desk, shoulders tensed as he flipped through a file.

Someone was with him, standing beside the bookshelf with their hands clasped behind their back.

Sophia spared them no glance and went to flop down on the chair.

“Hi, Dad."

She waved her hand; a tight smile tugged at her lips.

Her father sat up from his chair. The chair scraped backwards, and he crossed his desk over to her.

"Why are you here, Sophia?” he softly asked, reaching for her.

“I can’t, Dad," she cried. “I can’t go back there. I have no friends."

Her father bent down to her level. His eyes searched her face.

“No one wants me there."

Her voice cracked and she swallowed.

“Princess…”

Her father said the words barely rose above a whisper. He gathered her hands between his, his grip warm and steady.

Then he lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles. A moment passed and he glanced at the man standing by the bookshelf.

The man nodded and left the room.

Her father's shoulders slumped in defeat as he looked everywhere but not into her eyes.

“Right now the house is not safe and… and… I’m trying to make it safe for you. You need to go back."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he continued.

“I promise I will come get you myself, and we will go on that vacation you’ve been wanting us to go on."

He kissed her forehead and her cheeks that wobbled; a tear slipped.

“Go back, I promise just this once."

He implored.

She raised her head up to his gaze, and he was quick to move away from hers.

"When?"

Her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks, which she roughly cleaned with the back of her hand.

“When will you come get me? I don’t want to stay there anymore."

“Next weekend. Next weekend. I promise."

He kissed her forehead, sealing the promise.

**

The days passed in a blur for Sophia, and it was a day before her father would pick her up.

She continuously checked her phone for any call from him, but she got none. Her pulse thundered in her ears, hands turning clammy around her phone.

She knew these feelings.

The premonition of something bad; this had happened before when her mother was killed by people her father never talked about.

"Sorry."

She said softly to the guy she ran into, sidestepping him with her gaze fixed on her phone.

There were no calls and messages, and she didn’t have a single number from her father’s men or anyone whom she could contact concerning him.

Weariness settled deep in her bones as she exhaled and hurried into the nearest cafe.

College wasn’t as fun as they said—at least not for her. She sat miserably, pinching the doughnut on her plate.

She had no friends.

No one but herself.

A frustrated breath left her. She stood up. Her mind was made up.

She was going home; she didn't know if her father was coming or not—she was leaving this hellhole for good.

She paid for her food before storming out of the place, leaving the doughnut and coffee she bought behind.

When she reached her room, which she shared with no one. Thanks to her father.

Sophia pulled out a bag and packed her clothes and everything she would need for the next few days.

Her passport.

One important thing.

She knew this wasn’t going to be easy as she arrived at the airport using a rideshare.

The airport was crowded with people. Sophia struggled through and booked a flight, which was the second-to-last seat in the first-class section.

They were called in, and she settled into her seat.

She exhaled into the window, and it turned foggy. Her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the calm like a storm was brewing.

A text lit up the screen of her phone, and she picked it up. The airplane buzzed with people that were coming in. Not moving yet.

She tapped the message that popped up at the top, opening it. It said:

Come home, sweety.

She didn’t know if she should respond to the unfamiliar number, but the name "sweety" was amongst the many her father usually called her.

Her fingers hovered over the keypad of her phone; she closed her eyes as her fingers continued to quiver slightly.

Her heart rate increased. Her brain, trying to formulate a response.

Her father always warned her against unfamiliar and unknown numbers. She opened her eyes, and a drop of tear rolled down her cheek.

She knew she was overwhelmed and thinking too much. Exaggerating why her father didn’t pick her up today or answer her calls, though he didn’t let her in when he was going to do that.

She started typing, her fingers moving furiously on the pads, and then she stopped and read everything she wrote before pressing the send button.

Which was the same time the flight attendant came and instructed everyone to switch off their phones and put on their seat belts.

She cleaned her tear-stricken face, flinging her phone inside her bag as the plane took off.

She dozed off, only waking up when they wanted to land. She got down and checked in, her bag tightly held on her shoulder.

Her eyes wandered around, not knowing what she was waiting for, but she knew one thing.

Everything was not okay with her father.

Sophia switched on her phone and booked an Uber, which came after a few minutes of waiting.

She got in and pressed her face against the window. On any other day, flying home would have seemed inconsequential.

The distance from her college to her home was a few hours' drive, which she did enjoy due to the air she got from it.

However, a plane this time was needed; she arrived in no time at the gates of her home, where the Uber dropped her off.

With her bag on her shoulders, she punched in the codes for the gates and got in.

Her eyes widened and she hurried in. Black tinted SUVs were gathered around their little fountain. She vividly remembered running around it with her father.

There was no one. Only the cars. Her father’s bodyguards were nowhere in sight.

She sprinted into the compound. Dropped her bag on the floor of the veranda. Unease churned deeply in her chest.

Her forehead glistened with sweat as she walked up the small steps.

She entered the living room; a thin line of blood ran from her father’s study. Crimson splattered on the walls.

Handprints and footsteps with blood on them.

She walked alongside it, her eyes tracing it till she reached her father, lying on the floor in his study.

“Dad,” she stammered, dropping to her knees.

Her voice failed as she took in her father. Blood dripped down his throat as he gagged, his eyelids drooping.

Her hands shook as she lifted his head into her lap. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks.

“No dad. Please, you can’t do this."

Her voice cracked.

“You promised to take me on a vacation, Dad. Call the ambulance!!”

No one answered.

Where was everyone?

“Da—”

“I don’t think there is a need for an ambulance."

A rough voice rumbled behind her, and she turned briskly to it.