I wake up crying uncontrollably. 4 am. Within three seconds, I recall every detail of the nightmare I just experienced. My father possessing the role of the hero when he saves me from the crazy people who want to rid me. I'm sitting at home, scared, while he is out there doing his very best to make me feel safe.
But this time, he doesn't come back. He doesn't come back, doesn't tell me everything is going to be okay. this time he is gone longer than usual, and I know deep within my heart that this is not how it is supposed to be.
My father is killed by the crazy people. He knew it would happen; he had left behind a cassette with all my favorite songs. He knew it would happen and he let it.