Prologue
*4 years ago*
“Grace!” My father’s yell ripped through the quiet. I turned, fixing him with a glare.
“What?”
“I know you snuck out last night.” He jabbed a finger at me. “What have I told you? If you’re going to sneak out, at least use the front door, damn it. If you fall trying to make that jump, you’re as good as dead.” He growled, his voice tight with fury.
If you’re wondering what he’s ranting about, let me explain. We live on the top floor of a crumbling apartment building. I have a ladder that leads to the roof, and from there, a gap between our building and the one next to it. I sneak out a lot, using that gap as my escape route. I jump across. It scares my father, and it pisses him off.
It’s a big gap, and even a slight miscalculation in momentum could send me plummeting to my death. But I’m the top kid in my math class, the star player on the track team. Shocked? I know what a kid like me—a self-proclaimed emo—is doing being good at math and sports. Well, I can't tell you that. I’m just good at them. My father thinks I'm going to fall one day. It’s a four-story drop, but whatever.
‘Who cares, right?’
“You’re overreacting. I won’t fall,” I say, rolling my eyes before turning back to my art and music.
I hear him sigh before closing my bedroom door. It’s just my dad and me. My mom left us when I was a baby for some rich guy. It nearly broke my dad, but he pulled through to take care of me. I look just like her, or so my father says, and I hate it. I have her long, light brown hair and dark brown eyes. We apparently have the same features. But I get my short stature from my dad.
I glance at the clock. Past dinner time. Odd. My dad never lets me eat alone. I get up to go eat, turning off my music on the way to the door. I place my paintbrush down in a water cup next to the door and wipe my hands on my pants. I slowly pull open the door. I peer down the small hallway and see nothing. I move to walk down the hall when I hear voices.
“Where’s my money, John?” A deep voice rumbled.
‘John? As in my dad?’
“I don’t have it yet! I’ll get you the rest of the money next week, please, I need to feed my daughter.” He pleaded. I slapped a hand over my mouth and pressed myself against the wall.
“I gave you a deadline, and you missed it. You said you’d have the money this week, so I gave you an extension. No more time, John. Where’s my money?”
“I told you, I don’t have it!” My father yelled.
“I guess we’ll just take your daughter.”
“No! You leave her alone!” It sounded like a struggle, and I peek around the corner. My father was on the ground, shot.
I screamed, then bolted back to my room. They started yelling for me to come back. I slammed my door shut and locked it before heading to my window. The door wouldn’t hold them for long. I struggled to get the window open, and as I finally pushed it up, the door slammed into the wall. I crawled out the window onto the old fire escape, rushing up the broken stairs. I made it to the top and stopped.
I heard their shouting and the sound of people climbing the stairs. I quickly looked at the other building and backed up to make the jump. I started running as the men appeared on the roof, and I leaped off, throwing myself out. One of the men tried to grab my arm, throwing me off balance. I reached out to grab the side of the other building, thankfully managing to grip it. My arm strength wasn’t doing me good. I could feel myself slipping.
“Boss, what do we do? Shoot her?” I heard one of the men ask.
“Nah, she’ll fall. Let’s just go before the cops arrive,” the boss said. I struggled to hold on, my arms burning.
“Please God, give me a second chance,” I whispered as I lost my grip.
I screamed as I felt myself falling in slow motion, plummeting to my death. My father always said I could fall doing this jump. He wasn’t wrong. This is how I was going to die. I reached out, trying to grab the air, as if that would help. My body hit the pavement. It all hit me at once. Sirens wailed, and I felt blood spreading around my dying body. I knew right then and there I was dead.
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965 words.