Ch. 8: H is for Help

Help - used as an appeal for urgent assistance

Dear Diary,

I miss my dad. Today, I found out that he died, in the army. I didn't know how to react. Should I scream? Should I throw things? Should I cry? I didn't know. At least he died doing good for our country, my mom told me. But I could tell that she was trying to hold in her sobs. My dad, my hero, is dead. I haven't seen him in months. He's been away; in Afghanistan. And, I'll never see him again. I don't think I've really even processed this. He's gone, and I'll never see him again. Ever. My dad, the sweet, caring guy who scaled a building to get me out when I was scared. Who tried to help me find Maya when she was gone. Ugh. Why does my life have to be so hard? My friends and I were stalked by a faceless, nameless tormentor for over 2 years. My girlfriend died. I killed the guy who killed her, but that didn't make it hurt any less. I was almost sawn in half. A crashed a car through my house. A car. Then, we finally exposed A. Charlotte DiLaurentis. CeCe Drake, and I thought all of my problems would be over. Finished, gone. But, they weren't. My dad was in danger and I didn't even know it. I've been a mess this whole day. I drank so much vodka that I don't even remember what happened during a whole two hours. You know what, the weird thing is, it actually started out as a good day. Exams had finished yesterday, so my roommate and I had an early morning party so celebrate the end of exams. But, then I got a call. Not just any call, the call. It was my mom. I could hear the sadness in her voice as she spoke. She said, "Honey, I just got some news. Your dad died," And I burst into tears. My roommate, Eliza, was just sitting there, rubbing my back, wondering what was going on. I've had a lot of bad days in the last - oh - 5 years. But this day is one of the worst. And if you know me at all, that's saying a lot.

Sincerely,

Emily