The Minister’s Obsession

MARISSA'S POV (10 years old) Marissa was tired of waiting for her father. Her teacher, Mr Frank had told her to wait; it was his job to make sure all the kids in the fifth grade got home safely. She would've taken the bus, but it left earlier, and she had hoped that this time around her dad would actually pull through on what he said he would do. "I'd be there early this time, sweetheart. 3 o'clock?" her father had said, extending his pinky finger as a promise. He was smiling, but Marissa could see tired lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. She smiled back. "Don't forget daddy," Marissa said, taking his pinky finger in hers and doing their designated handshake. "I won't. I promise." With that, she ran off with the other kids in her class. He had dropped her off that morning around 8:00 am. Now it was 4:30 pm, and she was the only kid left in school. She sat on the ground of the driveway, counting the birds that flew past, counting her breath, doing anything to distract her from the fact that she had been waiting for hours, and her father was about to break his promise to her again. Mr Frank was dozing off on his chair. Marissa, fed up with her situation, decided to sneak off. She knew her way back home, and even had some change for the bus. She got up quietly and walked away, drying the tears that spilled with the sleeve of her sweater. He had promised, just like every other day, and she had believed him, but he had also broken his promise like every other day. Now she was walking home all alone by herself in the busy streets of New York. It took her roughly thirty minutes to get home. She remembered the first day her dad forgot to come get her from school. She had waited till 5:00 pm, Mr Frank passing furtive glances at her all evening, even offering to drop her at home, but she'd declined and insisted on waiting. She'd eventually left while Mr Frank dozed off on his chair as usual. When she got home, she found her dad passed out on the floor of their living room. And nothing had been the same ever since then. That was almost two months ago. As she walked into the driveway of their little home, she noticed something was strange. The door was left wide open. She stepped inside slowly, not knowing that what she would experience would leave her traumatized for the rest of her young years. The living room was a mess, like someone had deliberately turned the place upside down. The windows were shut, the curtains drawn, and there was a strange smell coming from the kitchen. Marissa walked slowly with panic gripping her heart. As young as she was, she knew danger when she saw it, and this entire scene was screaming danger. She walked towards the smell, following it to the kitchen. It was there she saw it. The moment she stepped into the scene, his head whipped sharply in her direction. A man in a dark coat stood over in one corner of the room. Marissa was terrified; she felt her knees buckle underneath her, her hands shook involuntarily, but she was so scared that she couldn't even muster the courage to scream. Her mind was screaming for her to do something, anything at all, but she felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot. She could've called for help, but her voice wouldn’t come. She saw his eyes, they had an eerie glint in them, and she noticed they looked an abnormal kind of violet. The kitchen was dark, so she couldn't make out the features of his face, but she knew that he was a scary person. She saw something liquid drip from the man's hands, and a frightening shiver ran down her spine. It wasn't until she looked downwards to the floor that she realized that her father had been lying there all along. And the strange liquid forming a trail to where the man stood was her father's blood. Marissa’s heart lurched in her chest, and a feeling of panic clawed at her throat. She rushed forward without thinking, her breath coming in sharp, shallow spurts. “Dad!” she cried, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands hovered above his neck, but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to help him. His body lay frighteningly too still, and there was a small pool of blood forming underneath his head, coming from an open wound on his neck. From the way he was lying, she could see his face and years later, she would be tormented by that look on her father's face at that crucial moment. It broke her seeing his once lively features slack and drained of life. And before she could acknowledge the man who was standing there, he was gone. He vanished into thin air. She couldn't put her mind in one place, she was confused whether he was real or if she had imagined it. He was standing just right there... Suddenly, her father's hand jerked outwards and grabbed onto her leg. He was still alive. She immediately ran for the phone, dialing the number 911 amidst the choking sobs of her tears just like he had taught her to do. Soon enough, an ambulance was blaring at the driveway. Everything else that followed was a blur. *** Marissa stirred in her sleep. The tangy chemical smell of the hospital irritated her nostrils. She'd been moving through motions of crying and sleeping, then more crying and sleeping. She hadn't been allowed to see her dad yet. The nurse had been nice to her, but there wasn't much she could do but tell her to wait. "Just a little longer, sweetie. When he's stable, I'll be sure to come get you." She had said with her most practiced smile. It'd been hours since then. Now, just as Marissa stood up to look for a vending machine, the same nurse walked up to where she was and offered to usher her in to see her dad. "If you need anything, just call for me," she said, leaving the two to themselves. Lucas Hall, Marissa's father, was lying unconscious. He looked better now that he wasn't bleeding out on their kitchen floor. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. She had never seen her dad like this before, and she wasn't prepared to see him die; he was the only family she had. "Dad, please don't go. I'll be good. I'll do the dishes how you like and I won't ever complain about the heater in the bathroom again," she pleaded out loud. He couldn't hear her. She took his hand in his. It felt cool in hers. She was about to get lost in thought again when she heard a familiar voice whisper her name, "Marissa?" He was awake. He was awake! "Dad?" "Marissa... they're coming for me..." he slurred on. He spoke mindlessly, it was like he was hallucinating. "Dad? I'm here, no one's coming, you're at the hospital." "They're coming for me!" He was screaming now and thrashing about on the hospital bed. He yanked at the IV inserted into his wrist, and it flew, splashing little droplets of blood on the wall. Marissa was frightened. She didn't hesitate to call for the nurse immediately. "Marissa! They're coming, you have to hide. You have to hide," he was wailing now. Uttering incoherent sounds. Marissa was shaken with fear. As the nurses rushed in, his fits got even worse. The friendly nurse shook her by her shoulders. "Are you okay?" she asked with a look of concern. But Marissa wasn't listening. Her eyes were on her father as he said the same thing over and over again. "The minister...", until his voice was drowned out of her head by the sound of her own blood rushing. The Minister. Gradually, she lost her balance and collapsed as everything went dark.