[Emma]The sound of my father's footsteps downstairs was wrong. Too slow, too uneven. Like each step cost him something he couldn’t afford to lose. It was past midnight. Even though he’d told me not to wait up, I waited anyway. Curled on the sofa with the lamp turned low, pretending to read the same page over and over while my ears strained for the gate, for his key, for anything that would announce his arrival, that would tell me that he was still very much alive.When the front door finally clicked open downstairs, I exhaled so hard that I felt a sudden sharpness in my chest.I sprang up and hurried down the stairs with my bare feet silent on the wood. Halfway down the stairs, I slowed when I realized that he wasn’t coming up. He’d stopped somewhere below, and I couldn't help the scary thoughts that found their way into my head.What if he was wounded, or dead even? What if his body was only delivered, and soaked with his own blood?A cold shiver ran through my spine, and halted my
Última actualización : 2026-03-25 Leer más