Author's Note: Okay, so there's gonna be a prequal to "Just Have to Deal"(still thinking of changing that name) because I'm going to have to explain wayyy too much if theres not a prequal and I don't like to do that. And I'm terribly sorry it's taking me so long to update, school is a nightmare:(
Chapter One: Daddy
"How is he?" My mothers slightly high-pitched, anxious voice drifted into the room my siblings and I were in.
"He's…not doing so well. But we're treating him as much as we can." Bullshit. They weren't helping him at all.
"Dee, they don't have a cure for what he has. It's not the doctor's fault." I guess my thoughts were clearly evident on my face.
I looked up at my big brother, then back down, ashamed of my thoughts. He was right, after all. Daddy has a new type of cancer that the doctors weren't very familiar with. My eyes fell on his hand clasped onto mine and then onto my other hand which was held by my big sister.
My mother's voice drifted back in, "Alright Doctor, thank you. Just don't…let him…" her voice faltered and she remained silent. Mack patted my hand and went outside to her. Even though I couldn't see them, I knew Mack was giving my mother his comforting bear hug that he has wrapped me in so many times before when I was in a time of need.
Mack was like that, always giving support when he could. It helped that he was six feet and five inches because when he hugged you, you'd feel as if nothing could ever hurt you again.
I looked up at Victoria, only to see silent tears falling down her beautiful face. Squeezing her hand, for what I hoped would feel like support, she looked up at me and giving me the tiniest of smiles says, "Hey you."
Reaching up, I wiped some of the tears away, "You're too pretty to be crying. Stop that or you'll ruin your complexion." She chuckled at that, "Look who's talking gorgeous."
Vye could be a model if she wanted to. She's that pretty. She has that rare beauty that couldn't be found easily anymore. She had shoulder-length, dark brown hair that had never been tainted by dye, layered stylishly, large, round hazel eyes with thick, long eyelashes. Her face was perfectly sculptured with high cheek bones that were forever a healthy rosy color without even applying make-up. She's about 5 feet 8 inches tall and has the perfect hourglass figure. She looked like an amazingly strong person but I couldn't help but think that she was frail. I was smaller than her, not just in age but in size but if I hugged her, I never hugged too tightly for fear that she would break. She's the type of person that you have to handle with extreme care. She's smart too, so instead of becoming a model or even an actress she was studying to become a lawyer.
"Do you think…" I started but she interrupted me. "It's in God's hands now. There's nothing we can do."
She squeezed my hand tightly and bowed her head in what I assumed to be was prayer. Along with being very intelligent, she was also very religious.
Mom walked back into the room, Mack guiding her. "Let's go sit with you're dad, alright?"
We nodded and filed out of the room.
I didn't understand. Nothing was wrong. He was going to be okay. He was my dad, and he would be fine.
So why were they telling us to be there? Sure, I liked visiting my dad, I loved it. But my mom never let me miss school, never. Something wasn't right.
We reached the room and I automatically went to the right side of the bed and stood next to him.
He looked so pale, so weak. How is it that people can change dramatically in only a few months? Sure, he was sick for a long time but it only just started to show. His hair was no longer black and thick with only a few strands of gray. It thinned and was gray with streaks of white from the chemo. The lines in his face were more pronounced than ever, making him seem twenty years older than he really was. His eyes were closed and he was breathing. I stood there very still, watching his chest rise and fall. Only… he didn't seem to be breathing as deeply as usual. His breaths were too light. He was too pale.
I lifted my gaze to my mom questioningly. She reached over and touched his hand and gasped.
"He's so cold."
She ran out of the room, in search of the doctor. I reached over as well and held his hand. It was pretty cold but…nothing to worry about. Right? It was late November after all…
My mother came rushing back in with the doctor. He came over to the bed and checked a few things. I didn't really notice. All I could look at was my dad. I looked at the hand that I was holding and back at his face. His frail face.
"I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do."
My mom started crying silently, coming over to the bed on the opposite side I was on and held his other hand. Mack stood at the wall behind me, hidden in the shadows and Vye sat on a chair next to my mom.
There was nothing he can do because nothing was happening. Daddy was okay.
I stared hard at his face, willing away the tubes. Just looking at him. At Daddy.
Suddenly, I felt his hand squeeze mine. It was brief, but it was there. See? He's telling me everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.
Right then, his eyes opened wide and he gasped. Did he awake up? No. Wait. Something was wrong. His chest wasn't moving anymore.
I looked around the room at my family. My mom and Vye were both crying, both holding onto his left hand. Mack was still in the shadows.
Why were they crying? He was fine.
I squeezed his hand again.
My mom sobbed harder and reached over and with trembling hands, closed my dad's eyes.
But…I didn't understand. Why did she do that? Why wasn't his chest moving? Why were they crying so hard?
I reached up to rub my forehead but felt…water. There was water on my face?
I was crying. I was crying and I didn't even know it. But…why was I crying?
Questions kept racing through my head and slowly, I started to realize the answer.
The tears wouldn't stop. They slowly turned into sobs, wracking my whole body. My legs gave out, they wouldn't carry me anymore. But I still held onto his hand.
He wasn't….No, it wasn't possible. He couldn't be.
I was gasping for breath, squeezing Daddy's hand, willing him to squeeze it back again.
He never did.