Someone to call Dad.

Chapter 2

14 years ago. 

The baby was out. Everybody crowded around the hospital to get a peek at the baby. How about me? I was running out of the room as all the feeling I had been trying to hide for the last 12 months consumed me. I didn't where I was going. I didn't care. Anywhere but there was fine with me. I leaned against the nearest wall I saw and hid my face in my hands as my kness buckled underneath as I slid down to the cold tilled floor of the hospital. 

This was a secret, my feelings were a secret. I had to keep it a secret. It had to be under lock and key. The baby girl needs a father figure and James was perfect. I always knew he would one day be a father but not to my sister's child. I felt selfish. While my sister was rejoicing, I was sobbing and thinking of my own problems when I was suppose to be happy for her. What kind of sister was I?

"We could have had that," James said. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at the nursery. I didn't even know I had ended up here until I lifted my head only to see a dozen babies in cribs through the big glass window in front of me. I scrambled to my feet and stood beside him, watching the babies move in their cribs, one was staring at me with its big eyes. It looked like it could be James and mine, with its brown hair which would come from me and its blue eys which woud come from James. I remembered when I would constantly get lost in his deep eyes.  

 "I know," I whispered. I leaned my head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent. He smelled like cinammon and rain, refreshingly sweet. 

"I have to go," He gave me quick hug before reluctantly pushing me away, he gave me a weak smile and took to his heels towards room 154. 

 And I was alone. I knew then that there would be nobody else but James but what would I live for? I would treat me sister's baby girl like she was my own. I would cover up my misery by sporting a fake smile. This was like therapy.

I'm proud of my heart, even though it has been cheated on, lied to and in pieces, it still works.  

(A/N: More tomorrow, promise!)