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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Gone From Daylight was created by <a contenteditable="false" data-ipshover="" data-ipshover-target="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/?do=hovercard" data-mentionid="21" href="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/" rel="">@Comicality</a> <br>

The Seducer: A Gone From Daylight Inspired Story - 27. William Harker’s Journal: Entry 27

§ §
Thursday, October 25, 1989

At this moment…I’m completely and utterly devastated.

My Mom and Dad…they’re dead!

I’m an orphan now.

How do I go on? Why would I want to?

My whole family is suddenly snuffed out by a drunk driver driving on the wrong side of the freeway!

I don’t know why I’m even bothering to write this here. I don’t particularly want to remember this day because this is the day my life, at least as I knew it, came to an end.

I didn’t go to any classes today, even Dr. V’s. I’m not sure if I’ll ever go back to any of those classes. They seem so pointless now. Everything seems pointless now.

I mainly came to Stanford to make my Mom and Dad proud of me. I didn’t really do it for my ‘future’ or for ‘prestige’ or anything. I did it because I got a full scholarship and, mostly, because it made them happy!

Now that they’re gone, my purpose for being at this University has gone with them. I realize how stupid that sounds. The very reason they were happy for my acceptance to Princeton was because of their hopes for my future. But, that was their reason to be happy. Mine was, simply, knowing that they were happy.

Well, I’ve written this far so I might as well tell what happened and how I came to know that my family and whole reason for being is gone. It was so impersonal how I learned of it. No one bothered to come find me and tell me. No one was waiting to tell me to go to the Dean’s Office to get it from him. No one was there to care…

I got it through the mail in my dorm mail box. I opened my box, found the letter from Princeton Administration. I thought it might be some question about my scholarship or some more red tape I had to go through, but instead…

“Dear Mr. Harker,

We regret to inform you that your parents, Malcolm and Jean Harker, were in an automobile accident and did not survive their injuries. We are terribly sorry for your loss. Please, we urgently advise that you to consider talking to one of our councilors at ….” Blah, blah, blah.

I’m still numb. You know? I haven’t even cried yet. I’ve just been sitting in this dorm room in the dark. The fact that this was the room I was attacked in doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Nothing matters now.

My family is gone. My heart is broken. My future is in the darkest doubt and I’ve never been so alone.

~

It would figure that the only person that actually cared enough to come find me would be Dr. V.

He must have come after his class to my dorm. I must have fallen asleep because I was awakened by his rap at my door.

Naturally, he wanted to know why I had been absent from class and why I hadn’t waited for him to take me back to his place, but he looked more concerned than stern.

“You have taken to your old dormitory room, I see. Does it no longer bother you being here?” he asked with what I could detect was a touch a sadness. I suppose he figured he’d be losing my company back up at his grand palace.

“It doesn’t matter where I am now. Not much does matter…I guess.” I told him in my numb monotone.

Before he could ask any more questions, I handed him the letter. He read it with intensity and then I could see his usually composed expression soften and then turn into that expression of long suffering that I would sometimes see come over Dr. V’s face from time to time.

“Oh, my dear boy! Words fail me…” Dr. V let his hand drop with the damning letter still in it.

Seeing his expression of sympathy finally did break me and the full terrible extent of my loss broke over me like a crushing wave. I put my hands to my face and let go an anguished cry that sounded like it was coming from somewhere else other than from me.

Dr. V crouched and embraced me. I allowed him to do that and I leaned on his shoulder and just began to sob.

I was broken and my broken sobs filled the room for several minutes as Dr. V held me saying words of consolation. He didn’t run from my grief. He didn’t chastise me for crying on his shoulder. He didn’t tell me to ‘buck up’ or anything like that. He merely held me and let me let go.

“I’m all alone, now. I’ve got nobody.” I wept.

He pushed me away gently just to look me in the eye and with an intensity I’d never seen in him before he stated firmly: “You shall never be alone, William Harker! You are my friend and to be such a thing is to be that for as long as life holds! A Romanian never lets go his friends! Friends are a forever thing with us and…”

Then he said the haunting words that have been echoing in my dreams and in my thought for days now: “….we protect our own!”

§ §
Saturday, October 27, 1989

I’ve been in contact with my great-aunt Francis who was my Mom’s aunt. She is the closest family I have, now. She made for a surrogate grandmother for me since I never got to know my real grandmother on my Mom’s side. Apparently, she died very young…just like her daughter. In my shock and grief, I’d actually forgotten about Aunt Francis since I hadn’t seen her in a long while. I guess I don’t consider her that close to me, but, I suppose, she thinks otherwise.

Although she’s getting quite old she’s still sharp as a tack. She worked hard trying to track me down and finally Dr. V got word that she was asking for me. I called her and she was almost in tears with relief that she’d managed to find me. She’d been afraid I’d been with my parents when they were killed.

She told me of arrangements that had been made for my folks and that I needed to come home to see them buried. Of course, I forgot about that part too. I’d forgotten that I’d be the sole survivor of my branch of the family and that I’d have to attend their funeral. Never having lost anyone before, I don’t know about all the hows and wherefores about things like this. I’m only eighteen and most eighteen year olds don’t have to deal with death on this scale. At least, none that I’ve ever met.

They’ll be interred at the Holy Family Catholic Cemetery not too far away from my house. That’s some other things I’ll need to consider, now. I’ll have inherited everything since I’m an only child. How would I ever manage to take care of everything! I hardly know how to take care of myself much less an estate! Dr. V has calmed me down on that. He says that an Executor can be named to take care of my estate until such time that I can take over. While I’m at the University, I shouldn’t have to consider these things. Dr. V even offered some contacts of various elite law firms where I can hire an attorney to be my Executor if I need it. My great-aunt had some ideas too.

Thank God for Dr. V! I don’t know where I’d be or what I’d have done without him these past few days!

Fortunately, my Dad had already made arrangements for their burial, though he thought that would be far into the future. I was just sixteen when he did that. I thought it was weird and morbid to think about things like that then, but now I very much appreciate his foresight. It is one less thing I need to worry about - which was the point.

God, how I will miss him!

I’m barely holding on right now. Dr. V has me at his place and has solicited Mike and Rochelle to watch out for me when Dr. V is away. Apparently, Dr. V is concerned for me in that he’s afraid I might, um, do something to myself.

I can’t say that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but…honestly, it’s like I know my parents would be very sad if I cut my life short just to be with them on the other side. For them, for what they sacrificed, and to honor their memory…I have to go on!

I have to try to live the best life I can.

It’s just…I wish I could be taken away from all this death and never have to ever think about it again. There’s nothing good about it. Nothing!

© 1998-2022 Comicality; All Rights Reserved; Copyright © 2020 MrM; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction that combine worlds created by the original content owner with names, places, characters, events, and incidents that are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Gone From Daylight was created by <a contenteditable="false" data-ipshover="" data-ipshover-target="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/?do=hovercard" data-mentionid="21" href="<___base_url___>/profile/21-comicality/" rel="">@Comicality</a> <br>
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