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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #1687288
Contest entry that unfortunately did not win. About a suicidal man and his angel daughter.
I sat on the neat bed in the hotel room with the cold metal pressed to my temple. One squeeze of the trigger and that could be it; the end. I squeezed my eyes shut. What did I have to live for anyway?

Tick, tick, tick, the clock mocked me. It knew I was this ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode. I pressed my teeth firmly together, grinding them. All my friends and family had deserted me. Maybe it was better that way. It meant none of them would cry at my funeral.

My hand, and the gun, slowly moved away from my head and rested on the mattress. My eyes were still closed, but only because I did not want to lose the image in my head. It was Juliet, my daughter. She had been there for me when it was I that should have supported her.

She was only eight years old and already so smart. She knew I was depressed about her mother’s death and what my life had become. A warm tear slid from my eye, traveling down my nose until it dripped onto my dark jeans. I did not know what to do.

“God, if you can hear me, please help me.” I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t believe in God. But, I’d heard Juliet praying for me at night. She believed. I tilted my head down and closed my eyes, waiting for some kind of answer.

That answer came just moments later, in the form of the door handle jiggling. I put the safety on the gun and slipped it into a trashcan, just as my little girl walked through the door with her grandmother. Mom just glared at me as Juliet ran over and hugged me.

“Today was really fun, Daddy,” Just seeing her gap-toothed smile brought a soft grin to my own lips. “Granma took me to the zoo and then we went to this really neat restaurant for lunch. And then we went to the aquarium!” I ruffled my daughter’s blond hair. She looked just like her mother.

“Thanks, Mom.” I smiled a half-smile up at her, which she refused to return.

All she said was, “She is my granddaughter, isn’t she?”

Before I could say anything more, Juliet clutched my shirt tightly, making me look down at her angelic face. “Will you go to dinner with us Daddy?” I nodded and stood.

“Of course, Princess.” I lifted her into my arms, even though I knew she was too old to be held. “Is Grandma going with us?” I asked, more to my daughter than my mother. When I looked over the woman nodded and something like a smile tugged at her lips.

“Yay!” Juliet giggled. When I went to set her down, she shook her head in protest. “I haven’t seen you all day, Daddy. Please, just hold me a little bit longer.” I smiled again, holding her close to me.

“Whatever you say Princess.”
© Copyright 2010 D.L. Hathaway (dlhathaway at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1687288-Princesses-and-Hotel-Rooms