Blossoms from The Apocalypse

“…young…lady…what…are you…doing…”

He sounded a little unsure, but that was to be expected of him. He was trying to stay as steady as he could, but for some odd reason, he felt like he couldn’t stop trembling. Maybe his nerves were still shot with adrenaline, or maybe he still wasn’t used to feeling…whatever it was he was feeling right now. Regardless, he was trying his best to stay steady and calm, and not risk the chance of scaring the baby.

Her tiny little fingers were occupied with grasping at her father’s much larger hands. She still had yet to reach that age where she was up and moving, babbling her head off, trying to get into everything she had access to; the little thing had only just figured out how to properly grab and hold things. She was pretty damn good at it! It was amazing to him that such a tiny creature could have such a strong grip.

Slowly, steadily, he pulled his hand away from her tiny grasp and gently cupped her face, stroking the little hairs that had been sprouting around her head.

“...you’re so…small…” He muttered to himself, focusing his stare on her little fingers as she flexed them. He wondered if she was confused as to where his hand went.

After sitting there, watching his daughter move her hands around the air, he stood up, and gently rocked her, as he walked towards her crib. As slowly as he stood, he set her down inside, and used the tip of his thumb to rub circles into her temple. He’d learned that that was an easy way to get her to fall asleep.

Despite this trick working, he sat beside her crib for much longer than he needed to to make sure she was down for the night…or at least a few hours. Something in his mind nagged him to stay and keep watch over her no matter how tired he got. It was a feeling he’d been afflicted with for a couple of months now, and he still had yet to figure out exactly what it was. Anxiety? He never felt that. Fear? He never felt that either. There must’ve been something about having a daughter that just changed his brain, and he couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing. She wasn’t to blame, and he could never be mad at her for it, he was the one that wanted a daughter, after all. He might’ve not been as prepared for this than he thought he was.

~

“Hank. You need to get in your bed.”

It’d been a couple of hours since he’d set her in her crib, and the last thing he remembered was staring at her little blanket, wondering if she was cognizant enough yet to actually like it or not. Now, a man stood beside him, arms crossed, with a tired expression.

“You can’t do this every night, you’re gonna royally screw up your back sleeping hunched over like that.” He said, extending his hand out to Hank in order to help him stand. “I promise you she’ll be ok, and if she isn’t, you’ll hear her crying for you anyway.”

Hank didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his sleeping baby. He knew she’d be fine, she’d been sleeping fairly peacefully for a few weeks now. But again, that feeling…

After a long silence, Hank huffed, and turned away from the crib. There was a tight…something…that creeped into his chest as he walked out the door of her nursery, like he wasn’t supposed to go. He knew he had to, he needed to sleep in his own bed and make sure he was rested enough to properly care for her when the day came.

He felt a firm hand rub his shoulder as he walked down the hallway, something he’d grown accustomed to over the past few months.

~

Hank was plagued by this “something” for every step of the way with fatherhood. Something that he didn’t know how to describe, this sense of joy that somehow was devoured by dread. He had learned to ignore it after a while, he may have gone insane if he didn’t try to ignore it, his daughter certainly wouldn’t have benefited from him being consumed by it. And his baby was what mattered most to him, despite that something stemming from her. It followed him everywhere and every moment, no matter how joyous.

When she took her first steps, he was overcome with joy that she was beginning to move around on her own, then devoured by dread that told him the dangers that would come if she learned to walk and walked too far from the safety of him.

When she said her first word, he was overcome with joy that she was beginning to communicate with him, then devoured by dread that told him the dangers that would come if she learned to speak and spoke to the wrong person.

When she lost her first tooth, when she first asked about her mom. When she made her first drawing, when she first asked about the world. When she solved her first math problem, when she learned the names of her uncles, when she got her first scrape on the knee, when she said her first bad word. Every moment it followed them.

When she shot her first gun, it was a little different. The joy was overshadowed by slight concern; he noticed she seemed rather startled by the sound and the impact and just about everything surrounding it. He made sure to comfort her and keep her calm, but he had to teach her how to shoot- it was absolutely necessary for her future. The dread didn’t seem to seep in.

When she landed her first kill, he didn’t have time to feel any joy or pride, she started sobbing before he could. And again, he launched into comforting her and calming her down, but he had to make sure she knew she had to kill, it was absolutely necessary for her future.

~

There had been many firsts and many lessons both Hank and his daughter experienced over the years, some things purely positive and some things hard to grapple with. That, of course, just comes with the territory of growing up and raising a child. By the time she was fully grown, Hank had almost learned to completely suppress that something that had followed him. Maybe he was a little worried for when she was fully on her own, but that was how life worked. From what he could tell, she seemed to be well adjusted enough. Maybe there were some things she was struggling with, but honestly, what person out there never struggled with anything? What mattered most to him was her happiness, and more importantly, her safety.

Her first contract, and he felt that something consume him whole for the first time in almost a decade. It was almost debilitating, but he had to pretend as if all was fine. And thankfully, it truly was, she came back in one piece and without any major injuries, just a few light cuts and scratches.

Hank couldn’t have possibly prepared himself for it, but his precious little baby reaching adulthood would almost act as a reset of his journey as a father, and thus, reset his ability to not feel that “something”.