*waiting - praying - wishing - hoping
The small girl turned towards her father, hate dancing like a flame in her eyes, “I have never even thought of you as my Dad. Go away!”
The father smiled kindly, as he was allowed only that and not to come or go near to his only spouse. His mouth did not open to say any words; his eyes spoke and told all that needed to be said.
They were filled with parental love, nothing more, nothing less and as he turned on his foot and walked away, his daughter did not notice the tears that trailed down his cheeks and that plopped soundlessly onto the ground.
The girl just stood, stock still, where he had left her; her small clenched fists, trembling with barely bottled anger, listlessly hanging by her sides. Her head tilted almost directly downward with strands of hair softly playing in the wind which would fleetingly cover her fiery gaze that bored through the ground as if it were nothingness.
She did not see how hesitant his steps were, as if he were waiting to be called out to stop. She saw nothing except the hatred which blinded her and the fact that he had just walked away, nothing else, proving that he didn’t love her at all. She saw only what she perceived as her father walked away from her crying. She saw only what she wanted as he crossed the road, slowly, lost in a broken hearted haze, not even realizing that he was indeed crossing.
And then what she saw was what she would never forget.
As her father crossed the road - uncaring, his eyes still spilling delicate, salty drops and not knowing anything except the feeling of his heart being torn, still praying for his beloved daughter to ask him to stop, walking slowly wishing she might run after him - a car going 100km an hour flew straight into him. As the impact hit he was thrown back, only meters away from his daughter's loathing gaze.
Blood was strewn across the street, painting it an abnormal crimson red. And as he struck the harsh cement, knowing that his life was ending, he heard something which made him smile through all the pain.
Something which made the father smile kindly, as he was allowed only that and he could no longer come or go near his only spouse. His mouth did not open to say any words, because he had no strength left to; his eyes spoke and told all that needed to be said.
For the thing which he heard, which made him accept his own death with happiness, was the very thing he had been hoping for. As the daughter realized that he had been hit, in a blood curdling voice, she had screamed, “DAD!”
*Wow, this is very sad.
I only just remembered I wrote this and I decided to post it to see what people would think. Say what you want. 
*
