Free The Wildwood Sisters by Mandy Magro

house was unusually quiet and dark. The smell of something burning in the oven wafted through, a mixture of rosemary and charred meat. It was very unlike Shelley to forget about dinner cooking. Unease kicked in.
    â€˜Anyone home?’ His voice was a whisper, fear ridding him of vigour.
    There was no reply.
    His skin prickling, Dylan sensed something wrong. Why hadn’t Annie run out to greet him, like she usually did? Taking hurried steps, he rushed down the dark hallway.
    â€˜Shelley? Annie? Where are you two?’ He half expected them to jump out and scare him, giggling.
    A loud sob reached him from the bathroom, and then a cry for help. ‘Daddy! Hurry! Please! Mummy’s fallen and hurt herself, and I can’t wake her up!’
    His feet pounding the timber floorboards, Dylan bolted for the bathroom. Time slowed down, the world stopped spinning, his heart was in his throat. Annie’s sobbing got louder. He opened the bathroom door and his eyes came to rest on a sight that brought him crashing to his knees. He reached out for Annie and pulled her into him protectively, his hand resting on the back of her head as he gently pushed her face into his chest. Annie clutched him, weeping, crying out for her mummy. Shelley was motionless on the floor, deathly pale and lying in a pool of blood.
    In a daze he cried out Shelley’s name, over and over, but there was no reply. He reached out and touched her hand, recoiling from the sensation. She was stone cold. Her eyes were open and soulless, and her beautiful face lifeless. His instincts told him she was gone, but he didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. This wasn’t happening.
    No, please God; you can’t take her from us.
    This was his wife, Annie’s mother, the woman they both loved so deeply, the woman he’d planned to grow old with. She couldn’t be dead. And his poor darling Annie, how long had she been lying on the floor beside her mother, holding her hand, trying to wake her up?
    Nausea washed over him with the thought of her being a witness to something so devastatingly heartbreaking. This was all his fault. He should have been home earlier.
    Something wet pressed against his palm and he yanked it out in front of him. His fingers were covered with blood, the blood that had soaked Annie’s hair. He quickly checked her over, making sure she wasn’t injured. Although her eyes were wide with fear, and her face stained from crying, Annie told him she wasn’t hurt. Her pyjamas were covered in her mother’s blood too. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was in front of him—hardly believing it—involuntary sobs escaping him as his reality shattered into shards around him. Being the man of the house, he was meant to protect the ones he loved. He’d failed.
    Finally he got to his feet, still clutching Annie, and carried her into the lounge room. Gently placing her down on the couch, his arm still wrapped around her, he pulled his mobile from his pocket and called an ambulance. He knew it was too late, but part of him prayed to God for a miracle. The operator tried to keep him on the line, but he told her he had to go and take care of his daughter. Annie needed him like she’d never needed him before. And by hell he was going to try and shield her from what was about to unfold.
    He cupped Annie’s cheeks, his eyes gripping hers. ‘Sweetheart, I have to go and check on Mummy. How about I let Bossy in and you can sit with her and watch cartoons while I do, okay? And I’ll ring Grammy and ask her to come over too.’ Every word cut like a knife. How was he going to explain to a little girl that she was never going to see her mummy again? His already broken heart squeezed painfully with the thought of it.
    Sobs wracking her, Annie nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘Please make Mummy better, Daddy. Maybe put a Band-aid on her sore head and then she’ll be okay