The Death game

y taking shape. One belonged to my father, the other to my uncl

lief. They seemed like statues, unmoving and

tightening in my chest. I stepped closer to my father, my

ispered, "I'm n

n my cheek. "You're not mad?" I asked, my voice trembling

to soften ever so slightly. "You did your best," he

nowledgment. He remained silent, but there was a

d them, the arguments, the regrets. Yet here they wer

tears flowing freely now. "I wish I could

ards mine. When our fingers touched, a rush of warmth sp

ke, his voice steady and reassu

he tears fall nonstop. "I wish you were here, bo

ce. The darkness around us seemed less oppressive, and I realized that this encou

," I whispered, the lingering warmth of their presence

, the remnants of a restless night weighing heavily on m

arm water would release the tension coiled within my muscles. The ste

evious night flitted through my mind-the mysterious piano player whose music had both captivated and soothed

y reflection in the mirror. "Why do I look so pale?" I wondered,

ouldn't shake the feeling of unease that clung to me. I remembered the intensity of the piano player's music, the

e hot liquid" How I love it " I mumbled, I allowed myself a moment of stillness, the events of the night replaying in my mind. T

bracing myself for the day ahead. The city streets were

usual smile. "How was your night? It looks like someone didn'

asn't about Ian. And who told you anyway?" I aske

of his mouth turning up. "I mana

yful expression. "Are you

ing my suspicions. "It's not like

. "It's fine, Eric. You have my blessing. Jus

sing. "Thanks, Val. I prom

have today?" I asked,

celed yesterday.... oh yeah, and Elijah calle

ves. What could possibly be the reason for