Bad Omens

Two

Rain clouds swirled menacingly in the sky, growling with warning. The autumn trees bowed in submission to the wind as it whipped their branches violently.

Emma sat in her bedroom windowsill, staring out at the growing storm as she hugged a blanket around herself. She glanced down at her phone, hoping to see a new message. It had been two weeks and still, she hadn't heard from the mysterious boy she met on the hospital rooftop.

A soft knock sounded from behind her and she turned suddenly to see her dad standing in her doorway.

"Hey, Duckling," he said, leaning in the doorframe. "I made dinner. D'you want to come and eat?" She felt her stomach tighten at the thought of eating and shook her head in response.

"I'm not hungry," she muttered, resting her head against the wall.

"You haven't had anything to eat all day," he whispered, stepping forward and sitting beside her. "You should try to eat something, my darling." He brushed her curls gently out of her face, feeling the fever that sat on her forehead. She sighed softly, adjusting herself to lean against her father. Henry wrapped his arms around her, feeling her shiver slightly as she rested against him. "Let's get you in bed, love," he said, helping her stand up gently.

Emma let out a soft groan and leaned against her father for support, feeling her fatigue take over.

"I'm so tired," she muttered, resting her head against his chest.

"It's alright, love," he said, hugging her as tightly as he could without harming her. "Come on..." before she could respond, he gently lifted her off of her feet and carried her over to her bed. He gently laid her down on her bed, tucking her under the covers. "I'm going to go make you some broth... you need to get something into your system." Emma sighed as she rested against her pillow, her eyelids growing heavy already. Henry placed a gentle kiss on her temple before walking out of the room. He made his way back downstairs and stepped into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter with one hand, squeezing his temple with the other as he repressed the urge to allow his tears to fall.

"She's not doing well today?" Evan asked. Henry turned around quickly and saw his son leaning against the kitchen island. He gave him a sad smile before shaking his head in response.

"I hate seeing her like this," he muttered. "S-she's so unlike herself..." he took in a deep breath and leaned against the counter once again, closing his eyes tightly. "I-I just need her to get better," he whispered, stifling a sob. Evan stepped forward and pulled his father into a tight hug.

"She's going to get better," he said softly. "She has to... the transplant is in a few days. She's going to be fine-"

"W-what if it doesn't work?" Henry muttered. "We've thought she was getting better before. We thought she was going to be okay, and then this stupid cancer came back more aggressively... what if she isn't okay?" Evan pulled away and looked at his father.

"It's Emma," he uttered softly. "Our Emma... the toughest girl on this damn planet. She's going to beat this. She will." Henry took in a deep breath and nodded, resting his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Your right," he whispered. "She will... she has to." He turned and began making her a bowl of broth. "I'm sorry you have to deal with all of this... I'm supposed to be the one who stays strong and gives the pep talks." He glanced over at the younger boy and smiled softly. "You shouldn't have to carry the burden of keeping Mum and me sane..."

"What are you talking about?" Evan asked. "You're the one who keeps us all together. You're allowed to have a moment of weakness, Dad... your daughter has cancer, that isn't easy to deal with." Henry shook his head softly in response. "Anything I can do to help you bare this pain, I'll do." Henry smiled at his son and pulled him into another tight hug.