Fuzzball

Fuzzball

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WpMetadataReadComplete Mon, Nov 21, 202212m
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*go below for description and tw-s* I've loved my daughter forever, before she even existed. I can't do anything to make my daughter stay. All I can do is talk to her. She's just a baby. She's still just my fuzzball. ---------------------- This is a novella written in the voice of a loving father in conversation with his infant daughter, knowing that she doesn't have time left. With the limited time left, the father talks as much as he can with his daughter, trying let her know that he loves him even though she can't speak back. This is a story of love, loss and holding on. tw: death, trauma, chronic disease
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#39
paternal
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The "Please..." I hear her whimper and I go into full panic mode. "Calm down, okay? Deep breaths. Don't hang up. I'll be with you soon. Where are you?" I rush as I grab the car key sitting on the glass table. I run into the garage with my dad behind me. "What do you need?" Dad asks "A room. A big one." He runs back inside as I hear her voice again. "Basement...blood...Elle..." I hear sounds of movement in the background and connect the dots. Elle's bleeding, or something... "Deep breaths baby, deep breaths. It's okay, you're okay" I murmur reassuring words to her, thankful that there's no traffic. Several thoughts run through my mind as I drove to her house. The last time we spoke, she could barely stand me, but now she's calling me. I feel kinda used, but now's not the time to think about that. I reach her house in a matter of minutes and shove the door open. The house is quiet, save for my heavy breathing and footsteps. I reach the basement and take in the sight in front of me. Blair cradles her brutally beaten-up sister in her lap as she rocks herself back and forth blinking very frequently. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Currently being edited Look out for cringe worthy typos and plot loopholes

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