He calls out for his daughter. \u201cApril!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Silence. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
His eyebrows crease. Where could she be? He tries for the second time, his voice wavering. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
No response. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He waits. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He counts to ten, the tip of his pointer finger running over the others like a mallet on a xylophone, playing a piercing melody. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He does this often, visualizing his movements as something that has the potential to be beautiful. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
His third call is loud enough to hear if she went outside without his knowing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Which she wouldn\u2019t. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She\u2019s not allowed to, not without his permission. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He wanders the hallways, searching. He knocks on the bathroom door. It\u2019s empty. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He approaches her room hesitantly. He steps right up to the door. His fist jerks forward to knock, but he stops it. His breathing is heavy. His nails dig into his rough skin. He needs to cut them. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why hasn\u2019t he cut them? He\u2019s not a girl<\/em>. He shouldn\u2019t have long nails. <\/p>\n\n\n\n His voice becomes more desperate, more distressed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Perhaps she went out. But she would have told him. Why didn\u2019t she tell him?<\/p>\n\n\n\n His temper, short enough for him to snap at nothing, flares inside of him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n His head feels like he fell face forward into a cactus, little needles pricking his skin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He raises his arm to knock again. He moves with force toward the door but stops before he reaches it. He drums his fingers against the door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He says her name again in a whisper. \u201cApril.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n He repeats it, faster and faster until the word becomes blurry and doesn\u2019t seem real.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He decides to open her door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s locked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It didn\u2019t have a lock before. She must have bought one without his permission. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He pounds on the door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n No answer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He considers slamming his elbow into the door. He knows the wood is weak enough that it would crack with his touch, but he holds himself back. They can\u2019t afford any more accidents. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He calls her phone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She doesn\u2019t answer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He calls out her name for the thousandth time, but this time it is gentle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He sighs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He walks out the door and around the block. He counts his breaths. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He does a lot of that. Counting, that is. Walking too. It always calms him. He looks for her outside but concludes that the search is useless. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He finds the house he was looking for and walks up to knock on the door. Unclenching his fists, he displays a friendly smile on his face. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A boy, around seventeen, answers the door. His smile slips for a second, but he repositions it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHello, sir,\u201d the boy says. There\u2019s a slight tremble hidden within his voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The older man motions with his hand. \u201cFollow me.\u201d His voice is emotionless. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s not a question. It\u2019s an order. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The boy opens his mouth, then closes it, afraid. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The man waits until they approach his house to speak. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He asks the boy if he would like to come in. The boy, knowing he doesn\u2019t have much of a choice, reluctantly responds. \u201cYes.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n He walks the boy to his daughter\u2019s door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He turns toward the boy. \u201cTell me where your girlfriend is. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" He calls out for his daughter. \u201cApril!\u201d Silence. His eyebrows crease. Where could she be? He tries for the second time, his voice…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":36,"featured_media":1085,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1084","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1084","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/36"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1084"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1084\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1088,"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1084\/revisions\/1088"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1085"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1084"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1084"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blueandread.asbarcelona.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1084"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}