Title: Daddy's Girl
Disclaimer: I own Jessie and her family, the plot (kinda, as it's probably been done before), and anything else that isn't familiar.
"Come on now Jess, just alittle closer, a little closer now come on sweetheart. Let me help you out, come on."
The elevator lurched drunkenly, throwing the 11-year-old girl to the harsh steel floor. A small sob of terror escaped the back of her throat where she had held it for so long.
Jessie looked up from the floor of the elevator, into her father's eyes and watched as he pulled her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, before lifting her up and passing her to the LAPD officer hanging through the access hatch facing the elevator.
The officer grabbed her wrists and pulled her quickly through the hole, passing her directly to her mother, a short dark-haired woman who had been in hysterics just moments before.
Jessie watched as the officer again leant through the access hatch and reached out to catch her father's extended hand.
The seconds that passed seemed to slow to an inordinately leisurely speed.
The scream of pure, unadulterated fear from her father, the white-hot look of over-whelming panic that flooded his indigo eyes and the stark paleness his normally flushed skin took on as he saw his wife and daughter race away from him.
The elevator hurtled downwards, to Harold Miller's death.
With him, he took the threat of a madman, and the triumph of saving others before himself. Upon his headstone, his wife had had "He who saved and He that was lost" inscribed.
Raw emotion flooded Jessie's body and a pain unlike that of any other she had felt before gripped her heart in a vice-like hand.