Chapter 63
Sofia Bliss
When I got home, all I wanted was silence.
I closed the door slowly. I looked around. The apartment was empty. No sign of Letícia.
I sighed in relief.
At least for now, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Went straight to my room. I put the keys in the dresser, took off my shoes, and threw myself into bed. For a few seconds, I stood there, waiting for my heart to slow down. Still trying to understand what had all that had happened.
But it seemed that the more I thought, but things became meaningless.
I got up, took a long shower. Curious to know what had happened after I left that room.
But I shook my head.
“Enough,” I whispered to myself. “Not now. I almost got caught. I need to forget it… at least for a while.”
There were more important things to deal with.
When I got out, I wrapped a towel around my body and sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my phone. Among all the notifications, one message stood out, from my aunt.
“Sofia, here are the address and visiting hours. I’ll be with your father during the transfer. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
I smiled faintly as I read it.
I opened the link, and a map popped up. The hospital wasn’t far. I searched its name, looked through the photos, and the reviews. Everything seemed… nice. Clean. Safe. Organized.
For the first time in weeks, I felt relief.
Maybe my father finally had a chance to recover.
Perhaps, with treatment and frequent visits, he could get out of that hole where he was trapped since my mother’s death.
I stared at the screen for a long time, thinking.
Once he got better, I’d move in with him.
I wouldn’t let him be alone again.
Not after everything…
Not after the attempt.
My chest tightened, a hot sting rising in my throat.
I didn’t want to cry.
But the image of his face — fragile, tired — and the way my aunt’s voice had cracked when she told me about it… It replayed in my mind.
The rope.
His body hanging.
The sirens.
My hands started to tremble.
“Dad…”
My voice came out weak, like I was calling to someone already too far away to hear.
I thought about my mother.
How she used to hold my hand when I was scared.
How desperately I wished she could do that now.
What would she do in my place? What would she say to me?
Maybe she’d tell me to be strong.
To trust no one, especially not handsome men who pretend to care.
I let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking my head, trying to lighten the heaviness pressing against my chest.
I stood up and opened the closet.
I needed to keep busy. To do something that made sense.
I spent the rest of the afternoon packing a small bag, some toiletries, his favorite book, cookies, juice, and an old photo of us. The three of us smiling, back when life hadn’t fallen apart yet.
When night came, I went to the kitchen and started preparing dinner.
That’s when I heard the front door open. Letícia stepped in, her arms full of grocery bags.
“Good evening,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the pan, still a bit upset.
She smiled like she was trying to chase away the tension in the air.
“Guess what? I brought dinner! Oh, and Aunt Marta called! She said Uncle Joseph is being transferred tomorrow!”
Her face lit up like it was good news for her, too.
I smiled faintly.
“Yeah… finally. I think it’s going to be a good place for him. He deserves that.”
Letícia put the bags on the table and looked at me, kind of awkwardly. "I... can go with you tomorrow? I won’t get in your way, I won’t ask questions or piss you off... I just wanted to see him a little bit too."
I stayed quiet for a few seconds.
Part of me wanted to say no; she’d lied to me before, kept secrets, and disappointed me.
But another part remembered she was still family.
And they used to get along so well… he was her uncle, after all.
“You can come,” I said finally. “But no questions.”
She smiled, relieved. “Promise.”
We talked a little more, and I could tell she was curious about the transfer, about the bills… but as long as she kept her word and didn’t pry, I didn’t care.
Woke up early. I wore new pants, a light blouse, and tied my hair. Letícia was ready too, and together we went to the bus station.
The journey was quiet.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk, but my head could only think of my father. In the sound of his voice, I hope to see him awake, lucid, perhaps smiling.
When the bus finally entered the neighboring town, I felt my heart racing.
We took a taxi.
The closer the car approached the address, the tighter I was inside. Sweaty hands, chest locked.
Then the hospital appeared on the horizon, a large, white building surrounded by trees. A little away from the city, but beautiful. It looked calm.
"It’s going to be fine," I thought.
We entered the reception.
I explained to the attendant who I was, and she asked us to wait.
" Your father should arrive any moment. The ambulance is coming."
I sat in the corridor, trying to breathe.
Letícia put her hand on my shoulder. "Calm down, Sofi. I’m sure he’s fine. "
I nodded, forcing a smile.
Then I heard the sound.
The siren in the distance.
I was standing before the noise even stopped.
My heart was beating so fast I could barely breathe.
The ambulance parked, and soon the front door opened.
The nurses came in pushing the stretcher.
My smile began to be born... but died right there.
Because the man lying on the stretcher - my father - did not look anything like someone who had "just" tried to kill himself, he was not only with his neck bandaged.
He was full of bruises.
The face swollen, a black eye, the arm plastered.
Purple marks rose from the neck to the jaw.
I stood still, unable to speak. Unable to react.
That did not look like the body of a man who tried to hang himself.
It looked like the body of someone who had been beaten.
My whole body shivered.
I swallowed dry, trying to understand.
My father really tried to kill himself?