Sick - An Irondad Story

3

                       (Peter's POV)

The car ride home was silent. I looked straight ahead, watching, waiting for something to happen. But nothing ever happens when I look hard enough. It's always when I get distracted. Then somebody gets hurt. Then I'm too late. Now it's dad who is hurt, and no matter how hard I try, I can't heal him. I glance over at him. I can see his broken eyes, seemingly emotionless, but you can tell he's aching. You could tell yesterday, by his mournful sobs, and now, by his slouched posture. Nobody expected for this to happen. Nobody but me. I knew it was coming, with the headaches, the dizziness, the blurry vision. They were all signs I had learned about in my health class. We would discuss the types of cancers there were, and brain cancer happened to be one of them. My dad would make the occasional comment, about the heavy bags under my eyes, or how I had lost about 15 pounds in the past month. He would ask with a slight wince in his voice, but you could tell he wasn't too worried about it. He had other things to worry about, I not being one of them. I would have nights where I would vomit up anything I had eaten all day, which usually was very little. I didn't want to scare dad. I didn't want to stress him out even more, his job was already taking a real toll on him. He always comes back and spends countless days in his lab, never sleeping and only coming up for food. I didn't want to go through those lonely days again, so I kept quiet. But it was only a matter of time until he would find out...

                                                                 .:.:.:.:.:.:.

I woke up to my dad shaking my arm a little bit. I woke up with a start, flying up from my resting position. "Shhh, shhh. You're okay, dont worry. We're home." Dad almost whispered. I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding in. "Okay." I mumbled, as I stepped out into the blinding sunlight. I walked into the lobby, my head hanging low and my back in a slouch. As I stumbled through the room, I could feel watching, people staring at me. My dad threw his arm over me and sped walked me over to the elevator, to avert me from the eyes of others. We got in, and dad jabbed his finger at the button marked with a "93". We were silent as the elevator rised, making a soft wiring sound. We stared straight ahead, as if our eyes had been glued to the door. After what felt like hours, the elevator made a "ding" to signify that we were home. The doors slid open and I stumbled out, making a break for my room. All I wanted to do was escape my dad. I heard him yell my name as I flew around a corner. I felt heavy tears stream down my face as I slammed and locked my door. I crippled to the floor and started sobbing. "W-why is this happening to m-me? This c-can't be happen-ning to me!" I whispered through shuttered sobs. At least I thought I had whispered it, until dad responded from behind the door. "I don't know kid," he whispered with a shudder. "I don't know. Just please come out. Please?" I took a deep breath. "I... I need some time." I could hear my dad sniffle. "Okay. Take your time. I love you... "
"I love you too." I whispered, as I heard dad's footsteps get quieter and quieter. "Goodbye..."