Papa Do You Hear Me Novels & Stories

As I push the door open, the sight that greets me sends chills down my spine: there’s Papa, tied to a wooden chair, duct tape stretched across his mouth. His eyes nearly pop out when he sees me, wide with fear and hope. It feels like he’s relieved to see me, maybe thinking I’m here to help him escape this nightmare. I take a cautious step closer, my heart racing as I scan the dimly lit room for something—anything—that could help cut the ropes binding Dad. My gaze sweeps over the bare walls and the dusty floor until it lands on a shard of broken glass just inches away from Papa. The realization hits me: the noise I heard earlier was him breaking the bottle, desperately trying to find a way ou

Even I know we do not have such money at the moment. “You don't need to shout. I'll get it, I'll find a way,” Papà’s voice drops, heavy with regret, fear even. I can picture him now—shoulders slumped, hands raking through his hair, eyes glistening, mouth murmuring words only him can hear, only him can understand while wondering what sort of magic he is going to cook up to arrive at such an amount.

Papa continued studying Queen's expression “ Seriously papa, what about mama?” Queen pouted. “ Is she in with you on this and how did I get here thou” Queen mumbled “ Mama went to get some things and she is with me on this” Papa said coughing repeatedly “ Have you taken your meds” Queen asked with a concern look “ Yes….before mama went out” Papa mumbled with a silent groan which Queen heard “ Okay papa, take care and I will try to respect her during my stay” Queen muttered before ending the call

Papa slowly reached across the table toward me as much as he could from the wheelchair and I grabbed his hand immediately. “I know baby,” he whispered. That nearly broke me completely. Because he sounded exactly like Dada just now. For a second nobody spoke afterward. Then suddenly Caleb inhaled shakily. “Do you think Dada can still see us?” The question sounded so small. So painfully hopeful. Papa’s eyes instantly filled with tears again. “Yes,” he answered softly. No doubt. “Yes.” Michelle wiped quickly at her face afterward. “Then he’s probably bullying all of us right now.”

"Papa's here now...Romano? Romano? Romano!" He was gone. He didn't hear that bellowing cry anymore. More so, the last tinge of pain when his heart cracked, recognizing whose voice was calling him out.

I have so much on my hand right now and adding to it will just make things worse for me seriously when it’s a difficult task that requires patience but Papa doesn’t want that. Walking into the study room where Papa is, I speak in Italian, the only language he and I normally communicate with. "Buon pomeriggio papà, ho sentito che mi stai cercando. [Good afternoon Papa, I heard you are looking for me.]" My relationship with Papa is quite formal; it’s more like an employee and boss thing. It's not the typical father-son connection that you see in movies. It's all about professionalism and getting the job done.

“You have to listen to me this time, Papa. One wrong move from you again, and we might be doomed for life.” Papa raised his hand, half in surrender, half in reluctant admiration. There was a flicker—momentary respect before his eyes went roaming, hungry for details. “Elly dear,” he said, the coaxing tone he used when he wanted something candy-sweet, “what exactly have you been up to? C’mon, fill your papa in. I’m dying to know.” I shook my head, slow and deliberate. “Not yet, Papa.” My voice was soft but iron-edged. “There’s something I need to do first. But be assured, we will get that drive back, and we will have our revenge.”

Come back and hold me. *** I was on the couch sipping my healthy juice when I hear the keys jiggle at the main entrance, along with a cute voice behind the door, "Why are we here, Papa? Whose house is this? Are we moving to a new house? Are we moving here? Is this our new house? Why are we here, Papa?" Jogging to the door that's already being opened, I smile brightly at the shocked girl, "Tia? Is this your houseeeee?"

I sit on the edge of the bed, I take his hand, I squeeze it, I warm it, I hold it, and I tell him, in a voice I want to be that of the daughter, of the one who loves, who forgives, who hopes, who believes, who wants, who can, who will be there, always there, no matter what happens, no matter what he does, no matter what he says, no matter what he chooses: "Come back, Papa, come back, don't leave me, don't leave us, don't leave her, Viviane is coming back, she will come, she will see you, she will talk to you, she will know you, she will love you, perhaps, if you want, if you can, if you still can, after all these years, after all these lies, after all these fears, after all these flights, sh

Then I heard Horris’ voice clearly. “It’s time to go see Papa.” The moment Horris said we were going to see Papa, every trace of sleep vanished from my body. My heart kicked hard in my chest. I got to my feet so fast that I almost fell, caught myself, brushed dust from my legs, and moved ahead of them without thinking. The only thing in my head was Papa. Nothing else existed.