Gone.
Stolen.
My sweet, innocent little girl, taken from me.
The moment I heard those sirens from the church, distracting me from my angel Nadine, I knew. I felt it so deeply in my chest that I hardly recognized it. It was a feeling of knowing, past proof and physical evidence, just knowing in a divine sense that something had gone terribly wrong. Maybe you don't understand what I'm saying. Maybe it comes with being a father. All I'm saying is, I didn't need to wait to see the look on Sean Devine's face to know that my Katie was dead.
Right after, after I had broken through the police barriers with Chuck Savage and gone to where my daughter was, I couldn't stop thinking about who could have possibly done it. Who could have had enough against my girl to take her life away? For christ's sake, she was only nineteen, she had so much life left. I racked my brain for who I'd have to hunt down, who would have to pay for what they did.
Until I saw her. Beneath her was a cold, unforgiving table. Above her, a sterile, crisp sheet. Her perfect face was distorted by the purple bruises left by the fiend that attacked her. At that point, my brain lost all function. But in my heart, I could feel it setting: the hole that would have to be avenged.
Jimmy Marcus
