​My father’s in jail because..

I need to get this off my chest or well.. off my heart

About 4 months ago,my military husband of 1 year had gotten back from deployment in which he had a hard time with a lot of loses. At the time,when he came back,that whole week i was at my parent’s house for their birthday. He’d went to the bar to drink the pain and exhaustion away. His childhood friend was in town that very day,in the same bar. Being drunk,he.. he brought her home and cheated on me with her in our bed. On the sheets i had bought and freshly washed so he could go to bed immediately after getting back.. one particular detail was what truly broke me. He had.. gotten her pregnant. She was pregnant. At the time,i was upset alot. I was extremely angry and ended up snapping. Yelling,screaming,punching a brick wall which resulted in me breaking my hand, yet still fighting back against him with that broken hand when he tried to calm me down. He was extremely calm. Didn’t snap or raise his voice once. The neighbours had called the police. I rushed outside and he ran after me, grabbing the hood of my shirt and holding me back desperately. Only then did the adrenaline wear off,and only then did i realize i had broken my hand, when he pointed it out. At that point,that anger had turned into sadness and i just paced around the frontyard while holding my hand. I only sat down when the police officer who was questioning me told me to. I was 23 and panicked. Crying on the grass while telling the police officer what happened. I begged him to call my parents,despite knowing my father wouldn’t take it all to well.. they’d find out sooner or later,they always do. I knew my father would be fuming. He had warned me about ‘military men’ before and had warned my husband himself. Despite that,i still got married to him. 5-10 minutes later, my parents had finally arrived,my mother rushing out to hug me,who was sitting on the curb, staring at absolutely nothing. We hugged.. I frantically apologized for not listening to my parents. My mother was a kind soul who wouldn’t hurt a fly so she took it well,my father on the other hand just stared at my husband,glared at him even. I was scared,angry and upset. Thankfully none of us were arrested. I returned his ring even before the divorce because my hand had swelled and it would have to be cut off if not taken off right away. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I looked at him after i put the ring down on the curb and got into my parents’ car. That look; Sadness, despair and pain. We loved eachother dearly. After the divorce, I told him that i didn’t want anything. He could keep it.. or well burn it. I’ve been doing that since little. When something hurt too much i wouldn’t even take the stuff that would remind me of that memory/person. 3 months later, I’m.. starting to feel somewhat better. I’m smiling again and laughing, almost back to regular me. And i was extremely surprised when I thought my father didn’t do anything! Keyword thought. One late night, after going out with my family;my mother,father and siblings,my phone rang. An unknown number. Usually,i would never pick them up before. But lately,i had decided to actually start picking up. No harm and i was bored. What I didn’t expect to hear was.. a very familiar voice and that nickname.. “love”. It was engraved into my mind and heart so much. “..My name.. love,help me..” shivers. Shivers down my spine and i almost went pale. It was my ex-husband. Asking for help. And no, instead of calling the police or anyone else,he had called me. Multiple thoughts ran through my mind—.. why did he still have my number? Was i still in top of his call list? .. he needed help? And that’s when it hit me. He was asking for help. From me. He was hurt. And even though i thought i had lost all feelings for him over 3 months which was nearly impossible. My heart ached. What happened? Who hurt him? Was he dying. “Where are you,his name?” I shouted,panic rushing through me as i paled the same way i had paled when he said he’d cheated on me. “Alleyway.. near the bar.” He responded,to which i told him he’d be okay. That I’d call the police. And i did. But by the time they found him… He.. he was dead. A bullet wound in his torso,where exactly,they didn’t say.. And upon trying to figure out who would kill him,they automatically accused me. I was his ex-wife,he had cheated on me.. in their eyes,i would have a motive to kill him. It wasn’t me. I would never,i still love that man! When my father found out i was being accused and close to being arrested.. he admitted. He admitted,that he’d shot my husband. He’d shot him because he’d.. hurt his little girl. And at that point i didn’t know why and who to cry for.. my ex-husband who called me first in the face of death? Or my father who’d killed a man because he’d hurt his little girl and was now in jail. Or should i cry for my mother who also has no husband? Or atleast one that can’t be with her 24/7? Me and my mother are very much alike. Appearance wise and.. our type in men.. it hurts. My husband’s voice still haunts me in my sleep. My father’s confession in the court haunts me in the day. I visited my ex-husbands funeral. I visited my dad in jail. I visited the two men i love the most. I wish i could say I’m a widow but no. I can only say that my ex-husband is deceased. I miss him.

If she wasn’t in town,at that bar,at that exact time.. maybe my heart would still be a whole.