Wishing: Chapter One

I walked into my house, beaming, for the first time in a long time. The day hadn't gotten off to a good start, that's for sure. But after getting out of PE, it had gotten a lot better. We had gotten Progress Reports, which we always got halfway through a nine week school term. And I had gotten straight A's! Sure, it was just a progress report, and not as important as an actual report card, but still, to me, it was an accomplishment.

Plus, tonight was the night that Dad was getting home! He had traveled to some rain forest halfway across the world, leaving me to stay with my Uncle Joe for two whole weeks. He always did that. Being an environmentalist, he had to travel a lot. Meaning, I stayed with my uncle most of the time. Luckily he lived near. And tonight, Dad was getting home, and I could surprise him with the fact that I brought up my math and science grades.

An hour later, I was sitting at the kitchen table, doing history homework and eating chips. God, why did history have to be so boring? I swear, I was going to die if I had to keep reading about the early Kingdom of Egypt. Suddenly, the door creaked open, causing me to jump. It was so quiet in my house when no one else was there!

Rick Rush, my father, was standing in the doorway, several bags dropped onto the floor next to him. He was still wearing his hiking gear, and under that khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt. But his legs and arms were all scraped up. That's what I hated about his job. That he always came back hurt somehow. Whether it was just scrapes and bruises, or casts on each arm, it was always something. And he always assured me he was fine.

I jumped up, running over to hug my dad. He was all sweaty, but I didn't care. He laughed. "Hey, Kiddo!"

"Dad!" I said as I pulled away. I sighed slightly, noticing how sunburned he was. Almost winter here, but still hot enough to get burned in South America? "How was Venezuela?"

"Hot," he answered, putting a hand on his forehead and feigning heatstroke to prove his point. "But it was beautiful, as always. I camped out in the rain forest most of the time though, because the nearest town wasn't very close. And because of this, I haven't had a real shower in a week."

I made a face. "Then, by all means, go take a shower!"

My dad laughed and then patted my back, walking past me to head to his room. I stared warily at the bags before me, wagering whether or not to open one. Dad always brought me something amazing back from one of his trips. And normally, he wouldn't care if I opened his bag to find my present. But, this was Venezuela. A poisonous scorpion or something could have crawled into the bag. I shuddered at the thought.

But that wasn't the thing holding me back. I had taken a step towards the bag to open it, before having that thought. It was all of a sudden, though. Like there was some magical force telling me to NOT open his bag. Some kind of an omen. Not being one to go against signs, I shrugged it off and stepped back, returning to the table.

But I had barely sat down when I heard the crash. The unmistakable sound of shattering glass. A window breaking. And the sound was coming from my father's bathroom. I stood up and took off running in that direction.

As I got into the hallway, I heard the shouting. Two people arguing. Both voices male. One my father's.

The door to the master bathroom was locked. Great. Now I could easily hear the voices inside but was too panicked about this sudden thing happening I couldn't make out any words. I fumbled with the door handle, as if that would make the door any closer to coming unlocked.

When I heard another loud noise and knew it was a gunshot, I felt like I was about to faint, I was so confused. I couldn't take this anymore! The sound still ringing in my ears, I lifted my foot and kicked the door handle with all my might. Thank God I was wearing boots!

When I tried the knob again, it came close to falling off. Great. I broke it. Another repair, but who cares? The door swung open easily. My right foot was still stinging, but I stumbled into the room.

And automatically, I wished I hadn't. Because the scene before me was jut too hard to believe. Too much to take in at one time. And even now, looking back on it, I regret walking into that room and seeing this. Because that's what started this whole mess. I still wish it was all just some terrible dream.

A tall figure stood on the ledge of the window. His back was to me but he was looking back over his shoulder. I only caught a glimpse of the three long scars running down his left cheek before he jumped out the window, disappearing into the night.

But that's not what shocked me and would have made me fall to my knees if I didn't have willpower. My father was slumped against the bathroom wall, wearing only his shorts and blue t-shirt, which had a very obvious strain of blood spreading through the front. My dad had been shot in the chest.

I stumbled over to him, crouching down. Normally this sight would have sickened me and possibly made me pass out. Blood made me feel faint. But this was incredibly serious. Plus, I had no idea what was going on, I was just acting on instinct. I trusted instinct too. More than any thing.

My father's breath came out in short huffs. His eyes looked sleepy and were starting to close. There was blood trickling down his chin. His head had been smashed down hard into the wall it actually cracked the plaster. His face, though five minutes ago had been badly sunburned, was now drained of all color. I grabbed one of his hands and held it in both of mine. It was already cold.

"Dad," I breathed, my voice shaking. I had to admit, I was absolutely terrified.

"Storm," he choked out, coughing up blood. "Storm, I need you to-" he started a coughing fit again.

"To what, Dad?" I whispered, tears in my eyes. My hands were shaking as they clutched his freezing one.

"Stay fighting...always...never give up...ever..." My dad's voice was getting softer. I knew what this meant.

"Dad! No! YOU stay fighting! I can-I can call an ambulance to come pick you up, and we can-"

"No Storm," my dad broke off, his voice weak but firm at the same time. "This...is it for me...I've done all I can...And now it's your turn."

And that's when the environmentalist's eyes closed, forever.

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Prologue -----> http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1730006-Wishing-Prologue
Chapter One ------> You're here.
Chapter Two -----> http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1739667-Wishing-Chapter-Two
Chapter Three -----> http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1751451-Wishing-Chapter-Three
Chapter Four ------> http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1753332-Wishing-Chapter-Four
Chapter Five ------> http://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1760789-Wishing-Chapter-Five