She poked her head through the door of her dad's room quietly, not wanting to disturb him in his slumbering state. He was sick- sick with cancer. Just because Alice was no older than five years old did not entirely mean she didn't understand what was going on. A month to live they said. It had been a miracle he survived this long they said. Not one of those doctors considered the fact that his daughter was in the; that the little girl, Alice Kreves, was listening in and subconsciously understanding what they were saying.
Now here she was watching her father die before her very eyes. The beautiful shade of jade they possessed no longer glittered with childish optimism, they were darkened by sadness and deception. Where was her mom when she needed her? Nowhere that's where. She was told that the womanly figure in her life abandoned her at her father's door step when she was only a baby. Alice never felt any anger towards this lady. No, just the hollow feeling of deceit. Didn't her mother want her? She believed she would have never gotten the answer to this question but she eventually did.
Her dad had stirred for awhile in his sleep until he finally came to. He smiled weakly at his daughters small figure in the door frame and chuckled. "You can come in, Alice. It's okay." His voice sounded as if he was struggling to keep it from becoming unsteady. Alice didn't like seeing her father like this, not one bit, but she entered his room nevertheless.
"Do you need something?" He tried to sitting up on his own but ended up using the bed-frame for support. It was the only thing that kept him from falling back over. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want some apple juice?"
Alice frowned. "No, Daddy. I just feel yucky." That yucky feeling she had spoken of was no other than misunderstood worry. Worry that just happened to start frightening that very day. "I don't k-know what's wrong D-daddy." She stuttered.
"Does your tummy hurt?" The pace of his breathing slightly picked up. Although she didn't know how, Alice could tell. It wasn't a visible aspect of her dad- in fact he looked as if nothing had changed about him- and yet she caught that one involuntary movement and monitored it.
"No, Daddy," she replied.
"Then which part of you is hurting, Alice?"
She climbed onto his bed and sat down next to him. The pace got faster. "Nothing hurts." Alice had begun to experience a small throbbing in her head, but she ignored it. "I just don't feel good."
Just then, the throbbing got violent. Alice clutched her head in pain and let out a scream that would have hinted bloody murder. But, as the Fates would have it, she wouldn't be the one that was about to die. A wave of death erupted from Alice's little body and lead up to the last breaths of her dear father. He didn't even get to complete the final word to his dying sentence, which was the name of his grim-reaper herself- Alice.
She hadn't realized what she had done. Not until her fit was over. Not before it was too late.
Alice shook the corpse with tears in her eyes, begging him to wake up. Although she was smart enough to know he was gone for good, she grew in denial. She did this to the point where the neighbors grew curious about what was going on and came to check on them. They were shocked to find what they found. They called the police.
Two Years Later
No one wanted her, Alice that is. People were to afraid of adopting the child that allegedly had a "bratty episode" that stressed her father out to the point of death. That's what the neighbors told the police. That's what the police believed to be true. But that's not what Alice had claimed. No one believed what she said happened, no one even listened. This led her to become a husk of the girl she used to be.
You know the saying "Is anyone home"? Yeah, just looking at this girl made it clear that whom ever used to live there moved away ages ago. And this wasn't because Alice looked sickly- she actually seemed like there was nothing wrong up until you actually observe her behavior. Not responding to her name being called, zoning out mid sentence; she was broken, not bent.
