written in scars || father lrh (au)

chåpter síx

Slipping on my converse, I joined her out on the back garden patio. She was swinging back and forth slightly on her heels as she stood upon the one-brick-wall. Her wide, blue eyes stared out into the depths of what would've seemed like a jungle to any child, her breath clouding before her.

I heard the soft hums escaping her lips as she observed her surroundings in full curiosity. It was as if she was a delicate bird set free for the first time; like she wanted to fly but her wings weren't ready.

It was strange. My nightmare had shaken me, and when in my hellish trance, I was certain she was preventing me from all I wanted. But now, as I watched her complete those actions, I knew that wasn't the case.

Dahlia always believed everything happened for a reason, which I always thought was absolutely ridiculous. But as each day passed, I questioned more and more.

I couldn't understand myself anymore. I kept trying to explain it to myself.

In my mind, everyone always left me. Always. I always lost anything I cared about. I was dull and monotone. I had no fight left. I wanted to die. But my mind couldn't differentiate between Leilani being the angel or the demon preventing my suicide.

I know I couldn't leave her now; the care system is cruel. As much of a weight she is to my shoulders, I don't want her to feel pain anymore; she's my daughter, after all.

I notice that she's wearing the jumper I gave her, her hands curled into the long sleeves. I reached forward and handed her a mug of hot chocolate.

If I can't leave, that means one thing.

I have to learn to become a dad.