Omen - [EDITING]

Omen

I have a daughter at home. 

She's waiting for her Father to return. She's waiting. Waiting for her Father to call. She's alone. She's the only child. She's only a child. She doesn't understand death completely. She's not the one to be blamed for. 

Her Mother is long gone. My wife passed away from a gruesome accident. I couldn't directly tell my child about it. She was only a child. She got more confused. My wife died at the age of 30. She was a loving wife. 

Everything is inevitable. 

They're alone. 

Together.

Disconnected yet closer. 

I miss my daughter's voice. I miss her enthusiasm. I miss seeing my child run around the house. My wife often tells her off in case she fell. Their voices overlap in my ears. There was contentment laced in their tones. My child giggled. My wife smiled. I sat there with warmth.

My daughter ... how is she?

I wonder how far she's bloomed. I wonder how many friends she has. I ponder what choice she made for herself in life. I hope she's not confused. I hope she has friends to support her in the midst of perplex. 

She must hate me for abruptly leaving her. 

I wish I could go back in time. I wished that I didn't have to choose this path. I wish that I could go back home and embrace my daughter. I wonder how my daughter is coping with her emotions. 

My daughter suffered a lot. 

I'm tied to this place. I have no where else to go. I need to provide for my daughter. I need to take care of the child. The child that's trapped underground. 

They'll watch every step that I take. They watch over me, even privately. This is what I get in return.

She must be lonely. She must be confused. She must not like being alone. 

I have a child at home.