love

“who is dead?." She asked searching my eyes.

“My dad."

“Who, Mr Winthrop?."

“No, Kylee. My real dad."

Apparently, my mum was still on the phone.

“What was his name?." I asked her picking up the phone one more time.

Kylee opened the cabinet and rammed through it, searching for something.

“I thought something happened to you." My mother cried.

“Mum, his name, tell me what his name was."

“Christopher Cross... Everyone call him Chris."

I almost whispered his name, almost.

“I'll talk to you later mum."

I ended the call and dropped my phone on the counter beside the sink.

Kylee was holding a bag of cotton swabs and antiseptic.

“Your hands."

“Kylee I'm fine."

“No. You're spilling blood all over the floor, give me your hands."

“I don't want it to get better Kylee. The pain is distracting." I confessed.

She looked up at me, suddenly mortified.

“Not again Gabriel." She said, tears spilled from her eyes.

Not again, what she meant by not again was the fact that whenever I got really hurt or ang