TITLE: Straight and Narrow
Robert Benning answered the door nearly the moment she knocked. This was fate, unadulterated, and she hated it. She said, "Rebecca's alive," as soon as she saw him. She took in his eyes and the soft wrinkles around them; she had missed so much. Benning dropped his glass of wine at the words, the goblet sending shards across the entryway, to which he was oblivious. Any inkling of inebriation evaporated. Track marks showed on his exposed forearms.
"Is she okay?"
"Yes, sir, she's fine." She shifted on his porch steps, knuckles white against her windbreaker.
"Where is she now?" Robert was enthralled by this angel of mercy who'd saved him. He pictured his daughter now as a gorgeous woman, her strawberry blond curls still putting her speckled blue eyes on a pedestal.
"Hell." It certainly wasn't heaven.
Before he could answer, she plunged a blade into him, and felt herself drowning in the raw fear in his eyes, the impotable waters of his life gurgling loud in her ears. Tears exploded across the topography of her face as she watched the fear spill over into his irises, spiked blood slipping through the spaces his fingers left unguarded as the grip he'd had on his chest was lost.
"Daddy, I'm sorry."
Her father's blood was now on her hands, and it was eternal.