Reign of Blood Omnibus by Alexia Purdy

Author:Alexia Purdy [Purdy, Alexia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Lit. Publishing
Published: 2014-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

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THE HOUSE’S STUCCO was chipping off, leaving bits of grey under the red, earth-colored paint. I remember picking at it, watching the flakes fall into a pile of debris, like dead leaves off a tree. I’d pick the paint right off, until the gaping hole left the house’s paint job looking like Swiss cheese. My mother would yell at me for being so destructive. Not my father; he would sigh and give me a tired smile as he retrieved one of the gallons of paint he had stocked for such occasions. I’d help him smooth it out and reapply the color to the wounds, like bandages to scars, drying to heal but remaining marred forever.

Most times, I would refrain from telling my mother about this, knowing her impatience with my small rebellions would probably drive her to madness one day. My father would just wink and tell me to go clean up before dinner, assuming the task of repairing the damage in secret. I’d return his smile and run inside, relieved I wouldn’t have to face my mother’s wrath. I loved her, but had always gotten along better with my father, more so than I did with her. We were always at odds. I wondered why that was. Maybe she had been right; I would always be more of my father’s daughter than hers. Either way, we had been happy, but nothing ever lasts forever.

The night my mom had received the call that he had suddenly died was a blur of slow motion and flashes. I remember going with her to the hospital, sitting in the wretched waiting room full of plastic chairs that were hard and uncomfortable but easily cleaned. I’m sure they had to be that way in an emergency room, so much blood and vomit and tears had to grace these chairs pretty often. The smell of bleach and latex permeated the air, making me want to run outside just to be able to breath.

I hadn’t cried yet. I was frozen inside. Shock had a way of making it seem like it was happening to someone else, surreal. The waiting room had blurred out in my vision and remained suspended in a slurry of noise and flashing lights. I barely noticed the endless influx of ambulance stretchers with patients rushing through the bay entrance and the dual door to the back. People crying, some complaining about the wait. Others arguing with the nurses in the triage area. It was chaos and static noise to me.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. He hadn’t been old enough to have a heart attack. He was young, in good shape and robust. Any minute he’d walk through the double doors of the nurses’ station where the rows of curtains separated the beds of each sick person. Any minute I’d hear his voice as he called my name to come give him a hug because it had all been a mistake and he felt a whole lot better. Any minute now….

But the minute never came.

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