Page 76 of Her Passionate Hero

“Why do you have a gun?”

“Protection. In this neighborhood, we need protection.” As he waved the gun, her head moved with it as if charmed by a snake. “Do you want to see it?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

She stayed glued to the carpet. This man wasn’t her Papa.

“Why are you home from school, Girl?”

“It’s parent, teacher conference day. You need to go talk to my teachers,” she said, then swallowed, praying he wouldn’t yell at her or worse.

“Just another goddamn thing that you need. What about what I need? Do you know what happened today? I left the foundry. We parted ways. Seventeen years and that new supervisor thinks he knows more than I do?” Her dad spit on the floor. “He knows nothing. Nobody knows anything.”

Aliana stared at her father. She had visited the foundry so often when her grandfather had been alive. It was a magical place, but she knew her father hated it, he never said so, but she could tell. He wanted to go back to the university in Czechoslovakia, he wanted to relive his glory.

“Do you know why I stayed?” he asked her.

He turned the gun over in his hands. He rolled it over. First, it pointed at him. Then it pointed at her. Sweat popped out on her brow, and fear made her teeth clench. She couldn’t speak, so she shook her head.

“Answer me. Do you know why I stayed at that goddamn job?”

“No, Papa, why?”

“Because of you and your mom. All either of you has ever been is a responsibility that has weighed me down. You flushed my dreams down the toilet, the two of you.”

“Mama loves you. I love you.”

“That’s the worst lie of all, saying you love me. You and your mom tied a rope around my neck and pulled me under water too many times. Your type of love kills, Aliana. It kills.”

Dread filled her as he lifted the gun. At that moment, she had no idea if he was going to shoot her. But if he did, it would have been fine. His words felt like death.

“Did you run?” Hunter asked.

“Yes, I ran toward him. I was afraid he would shoot himself, I wanted to stop him.”

“Fuck, Alia.” He gripped her so tight, it hurt, but she made no sound, she was lost in those hellishly long minutes in the past.

Her father shoved the barrel of the gun into his chin. His doughy flesh gobbled up the steel.

“Don’t!” she screamed as she lunged. The sound of the shot burst through her brain. She couldn’t hear anything. She watched the gun fall to the floor, but didn’t hear it thud. Her father fell sideways on the bed, a rich river of red poured from her father’s cheek and throat. She mashed her hands on both, trying to stem the tide.

His eyes were open, she saw life. She begged him not to die. “Please Papa, live. I love you so much. Live. I love you.” She pulled up the bedspread and pushed it into the wound, but the blood saturated the blanket like water from a faucet.

“Papa, can you hear me? Live.” She couldn’t even hear her own words because her ears were still ringing from the sound of the gun going off. She watched as life faded from his blue eyes.

“No! Don’t go,” she screamed and pleaded. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, sobbing and pleading. The old neighbor next door, he came, then the police. Finally, her mother. She didn’t remember much. Her one clear thought was to never tell her mother what her father had said. Never tell anyone. Never ever.

Everyone thought Laszlo Novak committed suicide because he lost his job, and she did everything in her power to perpetuate that myth. She never told anyone until now that it was because of her and her mom.

“That’s bullshit, Alia,” Hunter roared in a soft, fierce whisper.

She had forgotten where she was or that she was with Hunter.

“Do you hear me? I’ll yell loud enough so your grandmother wakes up, and Dalton comes running, I don’t care. What he said was wrong. It’s wrong, mi Amor. Wrong.”

She took her face out of its hiding place in order to look at Hunter, he looked like he had been tortured. Why?