Broken Promises (Chicago PD)

Fine

"Listen, I box okay. I'm an illegal fighter."

"But why?" She asked as we walked away from everybody's else.

"I took up boxing so I could feel closer to my dad, when he was and wasn't alive. Every punch I receive, it makes me feel closer to him. It makes me understand what he felt when he died. It makes me realise that I shouldn't hate him but I still do."

It wasn't a lie but it also wasn't the truth. I blame my dad for leaving me here, if he had just stopped fighting, I wouldn't be where I am right now. But he liked the thrill of it, he liked it more than he liked his own daughter. When he came home bloody and bruised, I got wash cloths and the first aid kit. I even stitched up some of his wounds. I asked him if he was going to make it to my fight and he said yes. He even promised me.

He lied.

I won that fight and I was shocked and happy but I couldn't celebrate it. Not when he wasn't even there to see me win. Another parent had to step up and be my coach because my dad wasn't there.

When I had gotten home, I ran into the house, tears streaming down my face. I was so angry that I didn't stop and think.

"I won dad! I won and you weren't there!" I shouted at him.

His eyes slowly opened as he let out a heavy breath, a single tear escaping.

"I held on. I held on...for you. I-I love you. I'm...pr...proud. Of you." He said as he held my face.

Leaning my head into his hand, I let the tears run wild while he gave me a weak smile. His hand dropped and his eyes closed, his head dropping to the side.

Crouching down to the floor, I sobbed into his chest. My hand rested on his hand and I sobbed my heart out until I could barely breathe.

Thundery pounding echoed through the whole of the house, shaking my bones. Going over to the door, I opened it and immediately raised my hands above my head.

Sixteen men held huge guns in their hands, their eyes darker than any humans I had seen before. One man held their hand up at the soldiers and took many steps forward but I etched backwards.

"Don't come near me!" I shouted.

"It's okay." He said and roughly grabbed me.

My hands reached out to the door as I screamed at the man but he didn't listen, instead he whistled at the others and pointed towards the door. Once I was out, I ran to one of the men and stepped into his path.

"Don't. He didn't do anything." I begged him and he did stop but the others didn't.

"Don't touch him!" I shouted as they began dragging him out, his legs dragging behind him. "He gone. He's dead!"

It was as if the world had stopped spinning, they all dropped their weapons to the floor and knelt down, placing their head on the arm that was across their one raised leg. One man picked up my father and carried him to an ambulance instead of dragging him along the floor. As they walked past me, they all placed a hand on my shoulder to show their respect but it wasn't because they wanted to, it was because the news was filming.

But then there was one.

One who crouched down in front of me, away from the cameras and handed me a Teddy from his pocket.