Trapping Sophia (Disciples 6)

But even their presence isn’t enough to fill this hole of abandonment.

My rock, my shield, is gone.

What am I going to do without him?

The priest finishes his prayer and bagpipes start to play Amazing Grace as police officers lift the American flag from my father’s coffin.

Once the flag has been painstakingly folded, Jacob Morrison, the Deputy Police Chief, approaches me, bearing it in his white-gloved hands.

“I’m so sorry, Sophia,” Morrison murmurs quietly as Beth drops my hand and Amanda straightens from my shoulder. “I know this hurts, but his sacrifice—"

Staring blankly at his face, I immediately start to tune him out.

I’ve heard the words bravery, sacrifice, and honorable so much I want to scream.

They say them as if any of those things would make this situation a little more bearable. A little more okay.

It doesn’t.

Those three words mean nothing to me. They may comfort the people saying them. Help them sleep better at night. But to me… they’re simply empty excuses.

My father is dead.

And nothing can change it.

Nothing can bring him back.

Nothing makes what happened hurt any less.

I’ll never get to see him again.

I’ll never again get to feel his hug or hear his laughs.

I’ll never again get to see his eyes light up when I tell him I love him.

But worst of all… I’ll never get to hear him say he loves me back.

God, I’d do anything to have him back.

Gently, Morrison pushes the flag into my arms when I make no move to accept it from him.

He murmurs a few more words, words that no doubt soothe him more than they do me.

Then he’s gone, and I’m left clutching the last remaining object that was near my father.

Suddenly realizing this is the last thing I will ever have from him, I hug the flag tightly to my chest.

The priest says a few final words and Beth and Amanda press closer as the gathered crowd rises and begins to move about.

I watch everything move in slow motion, as if I’m seeing it in a dream through someone else’s eyes.

Faces blur together as condolence after condolence is offered to me, and I try my best to accept each one gracefully.

My mother was full of natural grace and people loved to be around her because of her warm and bubbly personality.

I’ve always tried to emulate her, especially since she passed away.

To be more like her for my father…

But he’s gone now. Gone on to join her without me.

And I’m still numb inside.

Eventually the sea of dark blue begins to dissipate as the mourners return to their cars, and the path to my father’s casket becomes clear.

I know what I have to do…

Even if I don’t want to.

I have to say my last goodbye.

Taking a deep breath, I try to steel myself. Try to remain numb.

Like I’m in a daze, I take my first step forward.

Dread starts to form in the pit of my stomach, but I force myself to take another step.

Then another.

Someone says my name. “Sophia.”

I don’t know if I’m simply grateful for the interruption or if I do it out of sheer instinct, but I glance up.

The first thing I see is a dark figure standing alone beyond my father’s casket, watching from afar.

“Sophia.”

Someone touches my left elbow, drawing my attention to that direction.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Trent Morrison says, seemingly appearing out of thin air.

I blink at him in confusion.

I didn’t even realize he was here… But, of course, he would be.

His face finally comes into focus as he tries to slip in an arm around me.

I manage to side-step him at the last second and shake my head.

Trent has always been a little overbearing and overprotective. Sometimes it’s cute, but most of the time it’s simply annoying.

Especially today.

I don’t have the will or patience to deal with him today, of all days.

“You shouldn’t be alone.” Trent scowls down at me and tries once more to get his arm around me.

Not only is he overbearing and overprotective, but Trent is also conveniently oblivious to my rejections.

He never takes a hint.

And it’s only gotten worse since he graduated from the academy and started working under his father, Jacob Morrison.

I suppose the fact that our fathers are both close friends and high-ranking police officers doesn’t help.

But I’ve never been into Trent.

Our families have been trying to push us together since high school, but there’s just something about him. Something I can’t quite put my finger on that rubs me the wrong way.

Thankfully, my father backed off after the whole Russian ordeal, and I haven’t seen much of Trent since.

Why is he bothering me now?

“She’s not alone,” Johnathan, Beth’s husband, growls as he stomps over to us, abandoning the conversation he was having with the priest.

Trent stiffens as Johnathan walks right up to stand between me and him, putting his body between us.