Hold me [ Dylan Sprayberry Fanfic ]

Chapter 1

10 years ago-
"Can you go get your mother?" The man in a uniform asked, there were at least 10 others behind him. It was similar to the uniform my father wore--right before he left. One of the men in the yard, holding the American flag I pledged to everyday in class. My mom was already behind me, looking pretty as she always did; especially that day, in the rose colored cardigan that highlighted her pale skin, and her long black hair falling in a cascade down her back--I was always envious of my mother.
"You are, Mrs. Holt aren't you?" The man said, I remembered thinking it was funny how his mustache moved when he spoke.
"Yes." My Mom sounded scared, but brave--which had me me begin to worry, my mother was always confident. The man glances down at me, before opening a letter, and pulling a slip of paper from it.

"Dear Holt Family,
We regret to inform you that officer John Holt was killed in action on the night of the 21st. Officer Holt sacrificed his life to save his platoon--in which was the only company who didn't manage to retreat at the time. He was shot and killed in the midst of bringing back the last member of his Company. I and the C.O, and all of the Company deeply sympathize with you and your loss. We all honor him, and trust you will find some consolation in remembering this. His body was unrecoverable, and lies in a soldier's grave where he fell. His effect will reach you via the Base in due course."

The man looked up from the letter, and all of the men behind him--the one's in the yard, took the form of saluting.
I looked up at my mother, curious to what all of this meant--one of her hands was covering her mouth, a mixture of tears and make up streaming down her cheeks, she let out this bawling sound and I tugged on her skirt.
"Mommy--where's daddy? What's wrong?" I asked cluelessly. Like a dam releasing, she started bawling--I've never seen her cry, ever.

I watched the men go, back towards the black cars and drive away. My mom had the 'mean' letter in her hands, when she dropped to the ground and covered her face. I toddled over, and put a hand on top of her head and began stroking her hair. When she did this to me when I was sad, it made me feel better. My mom grabbed me, pulling me towards her and burying her head into my chest. I remembered standing there for so long, patting her head--telling her it'd be okay, even though I really had no idea what exactly would be okay. After a while, I'd finally brought out the courage to ask her,
"Where's daddy?"
She began to tremble, squeezing me tighter.
"Daddy's not coming home."
"Why not?"
"He's gone." My mom's voice was raspy and raw--from crying so much.
"Gone where?" I continued to ask emptily.
"To that happy place--I tell you about." She replied.
"But why? He said he'd be with us forever--that'd he'd come right back. Why isn't he here, mommy? He's a liar." I was getting worked up, I had a temper like my Dad too.
"No--no...he's not Bridget. Its not his fault--it wasn't..." My mom stammered her blood shot eyes, wide.
"He is! He--daddy...doesn't love me--that's the only reason, right? Or you, or Olivia." I snapped, pulled away from her grasp, ran upstairs, and locked myself in my room. I remember--just laying there for hours, and crying; not because I hated my father, but because I knew I couldn't take him back from that happy place.

Present~

Bridget's POV
"Bridget...Bridget Holt!"
I looked up, and the entire class was staring at me.
"What is the answer?" Mrs. Green, my geometry teacher, ordered.
"23.7." I answered quietly, letting my eyes drop back to my desk. Mrs. Green spun around, satisfied, as I sunk down in my seat. I usually didn't blank out like that--I've been so out of it lately, too. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, this was my 3rd school this year, we were constantly moving because my mother was having trouble finding a job. I'd been here a month so far, and my mom assured me i'd be here, hopefully, for a couple years or so. I didn't have any friends either, I was to quiet--for anyone to really get to know me, I suppose. I glanced around the classroom feeling like someone was watching me(which couldn't possibly be true);the usual, kids doodling on the desks, most of the class asleep--I meet someone's eyes, which was out of the ordinary by the way.