Chapter 145: Warm To Frigid
The news hit Lyse like a physical blow. She had been scrolling through websites,still trying to figure out what had really been happening in her life, when she saw the headline: "Jeff Dubois Dies in Prison." The accompanying photo was a barely recognizable, grainy image of her father, clothed in a prison jumpsuit, his face etched with weariness and regret.
A cold dread washed over her. She clicked on the article, her heart pounding in her chest. The details were sparse, but the message was clear: her father was dead. According to the article, he had been attacked by fellow inmates and had succumbed to his injuries while on his way to the hospital.
Lyse’s breath caught in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She could not believe it. Her father, even though the man had always been a distant presence in her life, and whom she had never really had a connection with was gone.
A wave of guilt washed over her. She had not even spoken or seen him, she had judged him harshly for what he had done to those poor people. Now, she wished that she had at least gone to see him. Maybe she would not feel as guilty as she did.
She had allowed Brooke and Lottie’s influence to drive a wedge between them, and now, it was too late. She would never have the chance to mend their relationship, to tell him how much she loved him.
She felt a deep ache in her heart, a profound sense of loss that resonated through her entire being. She had lost her memories, her sense of self, and now, she had lost her father as well.
Despite the estrangement, despite the years of silence, Lyse felt compelled to attend his memorial service. It was a final farewell, a chance to pay her respects to the man who had given her life. She did not know if Lottie and Brooke would welcome her since she did not get an invitation from them, but she did not care. She had to be there.
The day of the service arrived, a grey and overcast morning that mirrored Lyse’s somber mood. She dressed in black, her heart heavy with grief and apprehension. She arrived at the chapel, a small, unassuming building tucked away in a quiet corner of the city.
She hesitated just outside the entrance, taking a deep breath to compose herself. She could hear the muffled sounds of sounds inside, the somber tones of the organ music. She steeled her resolve and pushed open the door.