Violet's Light – chapter 1
"I'm so sorry, Vander," Greyson said, her eyes sad. "My deputy and his partner found her. The others are alive, but in shock. Your little one… she won't let go of…"
She couldn't finish, but Vander didn't want her to.
He pushed his way past her into the room. Even though he had seen the hole in the building from the outside, it was still a shock to see it on the inside. Half the room was completely gone. The side wall that used to be there had blown open; chunks scattered across the room. Twisted wood, twisted metal, twisting dust clouds unable to settle in the sunlight.
Mylo and Claggor sat in a corner on the floor in a daze with blankets around them. As soon as Vander entered, they stood up quickly. But upon meeting their gaze, neither of the boys could speak. They started to cry. Vander wrapped them both in a big hug.
Looking over their heads, he saw Powder sat in the middle of the room, still quietly sobbing over her sister's body.
Giving a squeeze to the boys' shoulders, Vander passed them to Greyson, who merely nodded to him and escorted the boys into the hallway.
Vander was very slow as he approached, not just for her benefit, but his own. He stared at her legs, her clothes, her hands… completely limp on the floor.
"Powder… it's alright."
She flinched and held Vi's torso tighter, as though coveting her away. As she moved her head out of the way, Vander suddenly got a better perspective of his eldest daughter's face.
He held his breath for a moment, shutting his eyes, then knelt down to the floor behind her.
He didn't know where his voice was coming from, but still… he spoke the only words he could muster.
"I'll take care of her… You can rest, Powder. No one is taking her away… I promise, I've got her…"
Powder hesitated for a long time.
But nothing was helping. Her own body felt so broken inside. Her arms were so tired. Her soul was tired. She cried as she held Vi little by little out from her body. She was glad Vander's arms were there because she couldn't have considered moving her sister any further away than a mere few inches.
Vander encompassed both girls in his arms, holding her long and hard. After a while, he let the transition be slow. Powder sobbed in his embrace. He kissed Powder's head, then he stood and carried Violet in his arms.
He didn't say anything as he turned and left the room. He didn't look anyone in the eye.
No officer got in his way. No one spoke or protested. A few even took off their hats as he passed.
He was silent as a mountain as he carried her heavily in his arms. He tried to hold her completely, but she had gotten so much taller since he last held her like this, her arms and legs dangled freely.
She used to be so small, he could pick her up like a stray kitten. He could remember carrying her on his shoulder with just one hand, her head heavy against his neck as she would daze into sleep. Now, she outgrew his arms, like a tree. Her head still heavy against his chest.
With every step he prayed this was just a dream, and with every other step, he came to realize more and more it wasn't.
She had no heartbeat. She was colder than she should be. Her eyes would never open again even if he tried to wake her.
He walked outside the front steps of the apartment complex; rubble littered the ground in piles and scattered stones. As he stepped into the daylight, white flashes of light suddenly popped and voices from photographers and journalists blasted the air along with shouts from officers trying to control the crowd, but Vander didn't hear any of it.
He stood like a statue amongst the piles of rubble, staring vacantly at the sea of people clambering to see them better.
Then, like a gradual breeze, a hush moved through the crowd. They realized what he was holding, and they became eerily quiet with shock. A hush so profound, it changed history.
One such photographer would be credited in tomorrow's newspaper for his iconic shot of "The Heartbroken Father."