Sorry
The argument had since dulled in exhaustion, they’d been over the same bitterness many times before. Exchange of heated words of who was right or wrong only to be halted by the authority figure. She argued with both parents before, but it seemed her witch father was swift to put his foot down while the mystic would waver surrendering into her childish demands. The same old song and dance that would end in them on speaking terms after a day or so. She held strong never wanting to apologize first. Why should she? After all, wasn’t she right? Her childish arrogance would have held firm if it hadn’t been for the sobs creeping though out their small puritan home.
A curious ear pressed to the walls as if to better hear the conversation between her parents. Only for her heart to sink the cries came from her witch father. Guilt rushed throughout her the strong stern man who would carry her home was crying because of her. Embracing the stuffed bear offered little comfort to soothe her. No matter how hard she tried sleep wouldn’t come. The sound of her father’s cries played in her mind making her restless enough to get out of bed.
Stepping out from her bedroom with the bear tucked under her arms to protect her from the monsters that possibly lurked in the darkness, but it wasn’t dark in their home. Sitting at the table illuminated by lantern light was her dad. His attention pulled from his book and his dark eyes fixed on her. “It is late child thou should'st be asleep” She didn’t want to be scolded again, no more fighting she pleaded to herself. She didn’t want to make him cry again! “No dad! please do not be mad.” The stinging in her eyes made holding back her tears difficult. “I'll be good I promise I will not get into any trouble. Please no more crying.” The distress in her voice caught the attention of her father.
Closing the book without marking the page his slow approach only made her cries grow louder in volume. She knew he’d never hurt her, Aphrah had shown so much love for his daughter. In the way, he carried her from high market or checked under her bed for grundys that may have been hiding. Even when the argued the love between father and child was there. It was the fear she had upset him even more that caused her to cry. Her little heart couldn’t take knowing she would further push him to tears behind closed doors. Instead of his stern posture when she usually got into trouble. Aphrah crouched to her level with a finger pressed to his lips followed by a hushing sound. “Thy father is asleep.”
Small hands that held her teddy were clutching the fabric of Aphrah’s shirt. Her face buried into his chest while muffling herself. His arms wrapped tightly around her small body gave her a sense of warmth and comfort. The day’s anger melted away she couldn’t stay mad at him. No pride was worth sacrificing the love of a parent.