Well, third of a series. If you have not read 'A Daughters Love', you must read it. And, if you have not read 'Feeling Empty', you must read that first. Otherwise, this story will make no sense.
I was talking to Sam and Tucker when I heard her. She was screaming bloody murder and running like heck through the hallway.
"What the-" Tucker started to walk out into the hallway. "Uh, Danny, you better come here."
We followed Jazz into the backyard. She ran to the alley between our house and the one next door. She kneeled down next to something, but I couldn't tell what it was. We kept walking into the alley. Suddenly, Sam gasped.
"What is it?" I asked. She pointed at the orange arm that was sticking out from between the trash cans. It was splattered with blood. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was all just a horrible dream, wasn't it? Soon, I'd wake up in a cold sweat, possibly screaming, but Mom would be there, asking me what's wrong. This whole thing was a bad dream.
I walked slowly to where Jazz was kneeling, Tuck and Sam following.
Jazz just kept saying 'No' over and over again, sobbing. I swallowed hard. I never thought in my whole life I'd ever see anything like this, especially with my own dad laying there. Jazz had been right. He didn't want to go on living.
I look at him. The one who taught me everything about being a little boy. How many years ago had it been when he taught me how to play baseball?
Now, the kind face that had almost always smiled that huge, goofy smile wore a mask of pain. Blood is seeping from a gash in his head.
'How many bones did he break?' I wonder.
"Jazz…is that…you?" a voice gasps. Jazz looks up. Dad's eyes are squinted, and his breath is ragged and shallow, but he is still alive. For how much longer, though?
"Dad, why?" Tears spill from Jazz's face. I have never seen her like this.
"Jazz, just give your mother a message if you ever see her again-I love your mother. I did this because I thought it would make the pain go away. I'm sorry. This makes more problems for you. I just wasn't thinking and-agh!" Dad tries to move, but Jazz and I hold him still. She strokes his hair to calm him down. His breathing slows down. We know it's almost time.
"I love you, Dad," we both whisper at the same time.
Sam and Tuck both lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Fenton, you were like a second Dad for us," Sam says, a few tears falling.
"Yeah, we were over here a lot weren't we?" It seems the only thing Tuck can say, but I can't think of much to say at this moment either.
Dad draws his last breath. More tears fall and-wait, is that a faint smile I see on his face?