To Daddy’s for Christmas

Photo by jackiea at morguefile.com

Photo by jackiea at morguefile.com

As my world blurred and blackened all I could think was, perhaps the judge was right when he said I was an unfit father.

My car’s horn blares. My head throbbing as blood drips from my nose. I try to lift my arm, only to have fire shoot through my chest. Carefully, I push myself away from the steering wheel. An arctic wind bites my face as it swarms through the shattered windshield.

As I stagger from the car, my mind wanders through a blizzard all its own. My face plants into a snow drift as my leg sinks. When I lift myself, I see a single pink glove and my heart stops.

“Abby?” I shake my head. “Abby!” Turning back to the car I find the open door. Her car seat is empty

I pull myself free and search the vehicle. Could she have hidden herself somewhere?

I grope my way to the trunk and pull out a woolen blanket. Tossing it around my shoulders, I use it as shield against the bluster. I scream her name again and my call is lost in the white noise of winter.

How far can she have gotten? Every few steps I check to see is the car is still in sight. When I’ve gone ten feet I can no longer see it.

“Abagail!” My call is left unanswered. I look to the sky, which is indistinguishable from the ground, and scream. My head pounds in protest. Tucking my chin into my collar, I keep going.

My legs begin to numb, and I wonder how long Abby has been out there. I think of her tiny hands and feel the ice wrapping around my knuckles. I turn my face into the blanket hoping to thaw my eyes.

“You idiot! If it weren’t for you, your daughter would be safe.” I feel the flask in my back pocket and take a drink. Am I even heading the right direction? Abby could have gone anywhere. I think of her pudgy legs and turn around. She wouldn’t have gotten this far, and I’ve wasted time wandering.

I try to follow my tracks back to the car, but even the ground I’ve just walked on is quickly covered. I cough, and spit blood. I sink to the ground, every breath is a struggle. My eyes droop. I had driven all night before the crash. Had we managed to reach the state line?

Bianca’s face flashes through my mind. I take another drink.

“Find your daughter, and stop thinking about that sl—” Every bit of me strains to hear beyond the world around me. The faintest cry meets me.

I try to run, forcing my way through the drifts. “Abby!” The noise grows louder, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. Please don’t let this be some trick of Old Man Winter.

As I continue forward, I drop to my knees and feel for my tracks. After a moment I can just make out the car. Had she stayed with the wreck all along? You idiot! You should have seen her. “Abby!”

When I reach the wreck, a hand takes my shoulder. I turn to find a state trooper.

“Mr. Drant?” She says above the howl.

I look around, my situation making itself known through the fog of my mind. “Have you found my daughter?” I take her by the shoulders. “Please! You have to help me find my daughter.”

She nods up toward the road and hands me the end of a rope, motioning for me to follow her.

At her cruiser she opens the back door and motions for me to get in.

I take a step back. “Have you seen my daughter, Abby? She’s four, has brown hair, and blue eyes. She’s in a pink coat.”

“We have her, Mr. Drant. She’s safe.”

“She’s safe?” I take another step.

The woman nods, putting her hand to her gun. “You’re injured, Mr. Drant, your wrist looks pretty bad. Don’t make me use the cuffs. We need to get you medical attention.”

Looking down, I see a bone protruding from the skin. I turn and run into her partner. He pins me against the cruiser and I feel her snap the cuffs in place. They’ve never hurt this much before.

“Mr. Drant, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of your daughter, and the murder of your wife.”

My eyes grow wide.

 

Thank you so much for reading! Have a question you’d like to ‘ask’ Mr. Drant? Leave it in a comment below and I’ll be sure to ‘ask’ him in my next character interview! This story was inspired by When Readers Write’s, Blah Buster theme of Winter Disaster. To read more Blah Busters click here.  

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Short Stories and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to To Daddy’s for Christmas

  1. mihrank says:

    Beautiful – Amazing, there are no words. Happy Birthday to your father – May God bless him and always give good health and happiness!

    Like

  2. wlloydjr says:

    Always a joy to swing by your page to read you writing. Sorry I haven’t dropped in more. It’s been a rough few months. Thanks for continuing to write interesting and enjoyable pieces!

    Like

  3. Pingback: To Daddy's for Christmas | operation CDL

  4. MK says:

    Who is the judge that told him he wouldn’t be a good father, and why did he say that? Also, why did he want to get away from Bianca?

    Like

Your thoughts are wanted and welcome!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s