Daddy’s Angel by K.A Knight

Tyler

Ibarely remember leaving the house. Lexi is driving because my hands were shaking too much. She even put my shoes on for me and locked up, and now she’s weaving in and out of traffic to get me there. No matter what has happened with Justin, she knows he’s my son and I love him.

Fear fills me—terror, actually. They wouldn’t tell me how bad it was on the phone.

The drive to the hospital feels like it takes an eternity, but in reality, we are there in under twenty minutes, and I’m rushing into the A&E, unsure where else to go. I queue up nervously and tell the kind nurse about the call. She instructs me to take a seat while she finds out more information.

I collapse into a sticky plastic chair, ignoring everyone else here. Those who are injured and sick. Lexi stands before me nervously, but I can’t bring myself to talk. Guilt, terror, and worry war within me, until I feel like I might scream or cry or both.

He’s my son.

“Want me to go?” she asks hesitantly.

I shake my head and drag her closer, holding her for comfort. “Don’t leave me, stay,” I beg.

“Okay, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, stroking along my back. “He will be okay, Tyler, he will. Trust in the doctors.”

I nod and press my head to her stomach, and she holds me as we wait. How can I go from such happiness barely half an hour ago to bone-deep fear? There is a horrible feeling in my stomach, a really horrible feeling. The one only a parent gets, and I don’t think he’s going to be okay.

When a doctor crouches next to me, his face sad as he takes my hand, my heart cracks. “Mr. Phillips.” He looks to Lexi then and back to me. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Is he okay?” I croak. I pull back from Lexi slightly, but take her hand when she tries to step away. She reassures me with a squeeze as the doctor licks his lips nervously.

“Come on, let’s talk in private,” he suggests, and stands and looks to Lexi again. “Will you be coming, miss?”

Lexi watches me as I stumble to my feet and drag her closer. “Yes,” I almost snap and then wince, rubbing my face. “Sorry, I’m just really worried.”

“Understandable, please follow me, Mr. Phillips, and I can answer all of your questions.” He leads me to a room farther into the hospital.

The room isn’t too big, with two pink chairs opposite a sofa, a table in the middle, and a painting on the wall. He sits on the chair, and we take the sofa. A moment later, the door opens and an older woman enters. “Mr. Phillips, I’m Rebecca.” I shake her hand as she sits on the sofa, and I look between them.

“Can I see him? Is he okay?” I fire out harshly.

“First, Mr. Phillips, is there any other family we should call?” Rebecca asks.

“His mum is in Paris, she won’t be awake,” I murmur as the bad feeling increases. “Where is my son?” I almost yell.

The doctor leans forward, his face saddened, and in that moment, I know…but I need to hear it. “Mr. Phillips, we are very sorry, but Justin didn’t make it.”

Didn’t make it…

He’s dead?

I must say it out loud, because he winces. “I’m afraid so. It seems he was drunk behind the wheel. I’m so sorry to tell you he crashed into a barrier and the car flipped. He was brought here, where he was worked on and rushed to surgery to repair internal bleeding, but I’m afraid he suffered a cardiac arrest on the table and didn’t survive,” he informs me, but everything else fades away except those words.

Dead.

Didn’t survive.

I feel Lexi pressing closer, holding me. I hear them asking me if I’m okay. They’re all looking at me, but nothing feels real. The words echo through my heart and head as everything shatters around me. My carefully built, safe life is gone in an instant.

My son’s life was taken in one second, and he was alone. Alone when he died. I wasn’t here.

And now he’s gone.

It’s strange, but my only thought is of the last conversation we had when I told him he wasn’t my son anymore. That I was disappointed in him. Tears blur my eyes, and I put my head into my hands and scream.

Lexi kisses along my shoulder and tries to comfort me. “Mr. Phillips, I’m a bereavement counsellor. I will be here if you need anything. For the moment, we will give you two…a minute. We will be just outside.”

I hear the door shut, and I turn, desperately throwing myself at Lexi. She catches me, falling back to the sofa, her arms wrapping around me as I sob and yell into her skin.

My son is dead.

* * *

Time has passed, but I couldn’t tell you how much. My tears are dried on my cheeks, and I’m numb and empty, still holding Lexi. I lift my head to see tears in her eyes as she holds me tightly.

“He’s gone,” I whisper.

“I know. I’m so sorry,” she murmurs brokenly.

Just then, there is a knock. I should sit up, but I don’t want to, so when they open the door and find us like that, I don’t even care. They don’t seem surprised at all, and Rebecca looks at me sadly. “Can I come in?”

I nod, and she takes a seat.

“I cannot even begin to understand what you are feeling. We are truly sorry for your loss,” she starts.

“Thank you,” I reply automatically, my voice hoarse and rough.

She looks between us nervously. “Would you like to see him?”

“See him?” I ask.

“Some find it helps, a chance to say goodbye, to gain closure, but of course if you don’t want to, that’s quite okay as well. Whatever you need to do, we are here for you,” she assures me.

* * *

I’m just empty.

Completely numb. The only thing anchoring me is the angel holding my hand as I’m led to the room. A sheet is pulled up to his chin, and when I lock eyes on his pale body, I rush to his side.

My heart breaks all over again, and tears fall, even though I didn’t think I had any left, as all that pain comes roaring back. I drop to my knees as I press my head against his cool cheek.

My son, my boy, my fucking baby is gone.

So still, so cold.

I’ll never see his eyes again, never hear his laugh. See him grow old, get married, have kids. I’ll never hear him act like a kid again, laughing and begging for my attention because of something he did. All those years of his life are just gone.

Wiped clean over one stupid fucking mistake.

My tears fall onto his face as I kneel there, holding his hand, but it’s cold and hard—this isn’t my son anymore. It’s just his body, my son is gone. He was taken from me, and I will never, ever get to see or hear from him again.

This world suddenly feels very empty and meaningless.

“Goodbye, Justin,” I whisper, but it doesn’t bring me closure.

It doesn’t bring me anything.

I’m empty.

And cold, just like my son’s lifeless corpse.