Future Holds || Bob's Burgers

8- Bug

Trigger warning for this one...

Zeke

I feel bad for being so hard on Amelia, but I was just so scared I'd lost Delilah that I didn't think.

The next day I wake up a bit late and smell a familiar scent. On the counter is an apple pie.

Oh Bug. You're the sweetest.

I meet Mr. Belcher in the kitchen, who's cleaning up after the mess from baking. Mr. Belcher is now Bob to me.

"Heya. Was this your handiwork?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "God, I wish. No, it was Ams."

I smile. "Where'd she run off to?"

"She went back to sleep since it's still early. I thought maybe I'd wake up in a couple minutes." He replies.

"Gotcha." I say.

We don't eat the pie yet, both waiting for it to cool, and for Bob to wake up Amelia.

I love that kid. I really do. She's my first born. My baby. And though I got angry with her, I hope she knows I could never stay mad.

"Be right back." Bob says, finishing up in the kitchen.

Tina and I have a nice conversation over coffee, while Linda drinks her own cup on the couch and watches TV.

"AMS!" Bob screams.

It doesn't even resister that he's calling Amelia's name until I hear him say it again.

"AMELIA!" He sounds absolutely horrified.

We all run into Amelia's room to see what he is screaming about, and to my horror, I understand what is so scary to him.

Because it's my worst nightmare.

Amelia lies on the floor with an empty pill bottle beside her. And she's thrashing around violently.

"AMELIA!" Tina screams, Linda hugging her.

Robbie and Delilah hear the commotion, but Linda keeps them away from the door. But I do hear Robbie gasp.

Bob is visibly shaking, taking Amelia into his arms.

"BUG! BUG, NOOO!" I wail, completely losing it. That's my daughter. That's my fucking daughter.

She's so goddamn cold. She's not breathing. And her eyes are stuck open. Her beautiful brown eyes. But they aren't the same.

The thrashing stops, and Amelia lies still with foam coming out of her open mouth.

"Ams...Oh my God, please God no..." Bob weeps, feeling for a pulse.

"B-Bob, tell me she's alive. Please tell me she's breathing. Please!" I beg.

He breathes shallowly, shaking his head. "N-No...Oh dear God...she's...she's not..."

I take my daughter in my arms and begin to press on her chest the way I know how. I know CPR.