Papa ✓

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"the words and actions of an intoxicated person are most likely their deepest desires or intrusive thoughts."—BEAR
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The 8th of February, Year 2024.

     "How is she?" Petro asks the shaken doctor who finds herself standing outside the room where Alexa is still unconscious and stable?

     "Sh–she's okay," the young lady stutters. "She's supposed to wake up soon."

     On cue, Alexa shifts, groaning in a drug induced state. The anesthesia has worn off a bit, allowing her to open her eyes, but she isn't herself. Or, is she? Looking around with half-lidded eyes, her usual guard is dropped and she looks kind of sad. There's a numbness in her abdomen and lightly, she brushes a hand over it where she feels two gauzes.

     Petro enters the room smelled of bleach, cleaners, air conditioner and refresher all in one. He stops by the bed of his drugged out student to get a good look at her face.

     "Alexa, how are you feeling?" He asks.

     Her eyes drag across the room to his, glistening and unfocused. "My eggs are dead." She whimpers, dropping her fuzzy gaze to his chest.

     The old man nods slowly, "Yes, you're now infertile. Do you feel any pain?"

     "Pain in my heart..." She sniffles dramatically, then adds, "You look like Santa Clause..."

     "It's February."

     Her watery eyes slide over to the French nurse by the door and she asks in the most innocent way possible, gasping softly, "Is she an elf?"

     "Alexa," Petro frowns and she quickly looks back at him, but all she sees is blurriness, "where have your senses gone?"

     A tear spills from her left eye when she sniffles again, choking on a sob. "To school without me..."

     Silence settles in the small space for a while. Only her unevened breathing and sobbing are heard and Petro's frustration is building up. The nurse doesn't know whether she should be cooing or not, when before this same child had creeped her out.

     Sniffing hard to stop mucus from running down her down-turned lips, she suddenly heaves to Petro, still in tears, "Wanna hear a joke?"

     He rolls his eyes, not surprised by her sudden change in demeanor. "What is it?"

     "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

     "To get to the other side."

     Alexa shuts him down, making a quick 'X' with her index fingers, pulling on the IV. "It's to get to the idiot's house." Both Petro and Indila glance at each other, before turning back to the girl when she begins again, "Knock, knock!"

     "Who's there?" He asks, curious as to where her joke is going.

     She giggles, "The chicken."

     As Petro bursts into a fit, scolding her for calling him an idiot, the nurse couldn't help but laugh silently at their interaction and Phillipeño, now by the door, gets a full hearing of Alexa's childish yet beautiful laugh. Cute. He smiles and leaves before his presence is noticed, he was only passing by.

     Petro rambles on.

     "No, no, don't shout at me! I hate it...!" She announces. She has a way of making her surroundings go quiet and this is one of those moments again. When her elder opens his mouth to rebut, she screams on the top of her lungs and the heart monitor starts to go wild. "I HATE IIIIIIIIIIIIT!"

     "Okay, okay, calm down..." Nurse Indila rushes in to soothe her, blocking her view of Petro.

     With the attention span of a five year old, she stares into the chocolate brown eyes of the woman, then observes her sideburns fading out at the side of her face. "Pretty." She mumbles airily.

     The young doctor, caught off guard, pushes away from the girl and Alexa analyzes the room within seconds, speaking up again after spotting Petro's retreating figure. She's always had an unspoken wish for a father figure, but that wish was never thought of and was stored away for good.

     "Papa...!"

     Until now.

     He freezes, doing a double take on what she just called him.

     "I want ice-cream," she adds a little quieter, innocent eyes wide and waiting for his response.

     The man huffs, raking a hand through his brunette hair and he walks out of the room, disappearing in a few quick steps.

     His heart.

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