I came home late at dusk. Exhausted as my muscles sore in pain. My team lost the soccer match and was out of the interschool tournament. I tossed my bag away and threw my body on the couch.
"I don't care. It wasn't my fault. I didn't miss that goal." I murmured though it was a lie I was telling myself. After staring at the ceiling for sometimes, tears dwelled up in my eyes.
I couldn't stop it.
"Dad! What happened to him?" I yelled when I received a call before 2nd half that he can't come to see my match.
"He's okay. You focus on your match first. He wanted me to tell you this." Dad's friend told me. I was sure, something was wrong.
Being a police officer, he gets into arguments with offenders and runs into criminals a lot.
My phone rang up suddenly. I rolled down and grabbed it, my heart beating fast against my rib cages. Dad's friend number? I got scared.
"Hello? Dad? Are you okay?" I gulped down my saliva. "What's wrong with your voice? Did you lose the match?" A weak voice replied. It was my dad.
"Are you okay? Your voice sounds weak. I thought something's happened to you. No one told me anything. I was so...."
My voice trailed off as I began tearing up and my questions were endless as usual. He laughed saying the bullet narrowly touched his arm and is not serious.
"Having my only family a public servant tooks a great toll on my own mental health too." I grumbled and whined. However, I also thanked God for keeping him safe.
After getting the hospital address, I slipping into fresh clothes and jumped out to see him.