silent

44

• LORENZO •

My heart breaks when I hear Amalia's sobs. I knock on the door again, but there's no answer. I feel around on the top of the doorframe for the spare key I have, grabbing it and unlocking the door.

     Amalia backs away toward the door when she sees me. I furrow my eyebrows and walk toward her, but she rounds the desk quickly.

     "What's wrong, baby?"

     "Wh—what happened t-to my old—old s-science teacher?"

     "What? He got fired, the school told me." Why is she asking this?

     She shakes her head. "N-no, you're lying."

     "Why would I lie, baby?"

     She glances down at the open bottom drawer of my desk. I follow her gaze to the gun there, cursing myself. I forgot to lock it.

     I sigh. "Amalia—"

     When I attempt to walk toward her again, she shuffles back, holding Petal in her arms protectively. She inhales a sharp breath. "Don't—don't come any c-closer to me!"

     My heart breaks for the fiftieth time this week.

     "I'm not gonna hurt you, sweetheart, I'd never hurt you. I promise."

     "Th—then why do y-you have that?"

I let out a small breath. "Why don't you come sit down and I can explain everything to you?" I suggest. She looks hesitant, so I add: "I swear, Amalia, I'd never hurt you."

     She holds Petal tighter. "W-we can in the—in the l-living r-room." Her stutter is so bad that it makes my heart ache; I'm the reason for it. She's terrified and sobbing, all because of me and my carelessness. I suppose when I left the drawer unlocked I didn't think she'd come in here, but I should've considered each and every possibility.

     "Okay," I say hastily. "We can do that. Come on."

     I walk out of my study, and I hear her follow me. When I get into the living room I sit down on the couch, but she doesn't sit by me. Instead, she sits on the sofa chair, crossing her legs and setting Petal on them.

I clear my throat before speaking. "The only reason I had that," I begin, "was because I took it away from someone. When I went into my actual work office, I found someone with it, so I took it away before they could hurt anyone, or themselves. I just haven't gotten rid of it yet because I've been busy."

I notice the moment she relaxes, and I let out a small, quiet sigh full of relief.

"D-do you promise?" She questions, voice cracking on each word.

     I nod. She bites her nails, but I can tell her hold on Petal has loosened, almost as if she wanted to protect her. My expression softens as her eyes fill with tears. "I—I'm sorry."

     I furrow my eyebrows. "For what?"

     "F-for thinking that—that you u-used it." She whispers, looking down like she's ashamed of herself.

     I stand and walk over to her. Almost as if knowing what I'm about to do, Petal jumps off Amalia's lap just in time for me to lift her up into my arms. "You don't have to be sorry for anything, baby. Ever."

     I sit down where she was, folding her up on my lap as Petal pulls herself up onto the arm of the chair and sits down. Amalia lays her head on my shoulder and holds onto my waist, her breaths even if not a little bit shaky.

     We stay like that for some time until she whispers: "dad."

     "Hm?"

     "I—I don't w-want to go to the—the d-doctors."

     I look down at her, but she doesn't return my gaze. "Why not?"

     Another few seconds pass before: "I don't want to."

     "We need to make sure you're okay."

     "I am."

     "It's just a little checkup, baby, it'll be okay." I tell her.

     She stays silent. I don't talk either, holding onto her, relieved that she's letting me.

•

Amalia cries the entire way home from the doctors.

My heart breaks as she sobs in the back seat—she insisted she sat there, but I don't know why. It only makes it worse that there's nothing I can do to comfort her.

When I pull back into the driveway, I get out of the car and round it. I open Amalia's door and unbuckle her seatbelt since she's made no move to and scoop her up into my arms.

She immediately wraps her arms around my neck and digs her head into my shoulder, soaking it with her tears.

"Shh." I whisper. "It's okay, baby."

I nudge her door closed and pull my keys out as I advance toward the front door. I open it, then walk inside and into the living room. No one is in here, so I sit on the couch and attempt to set her next to me, but she clings onto me like I'm a lifeline, so I keep her on my lap.

     "It'll be alright." I assure her as she continues to sob into the crook of my neck. I rock her slightly, rubbing my hand up and down the small of her back in a failed attempt to calm her.

     Only after fifteen minutes does she finally settle enough to look up. Her eyes are puffy with tears and her face is red and tear streaked. My heart crumbles as I look at her. She doesn't deserve this.

     Somethings really, really messed up with the world. How can it be so horrible to this little angel?

     I kiss her cheek, then hold her to me again. Her sobs die down into small sniffles and the occasional cry; other than that she seems to have relaxed a little bit.

     "I—I'm s-s-scared."

     I close my eyes and rest my chin on her head. "You don't have to be afraid, sweetheart." I assure her. "Nothing bad is gonna happen to you, it's just a surgery. You'll be fine."

     She begins to shake. When the doctor told us that they read the tests wrong, that both of her kidneys were failing instead of just one, Amalia burst into tears and didn't stop. We were told that, since she has an O negative blood type—which can be received by anyone, but only donated to by the same group—it'll be difficult to find a match for a kidney. But she's on the waiting list, and I'm positive they'll find someone soon.

     "I don't—d-don't w-wanna d-die."

     "I told you, baby, you're not gonna die. You're going to be fine. In a month or two you'll be healed and living your life normally again."

     She stays silent.

     I lean back on the cushion. She wraps her little arms around my waist, squeezing onto me. I run my tattooed fingers through her brown hair, and soon after her quickened breaths begin to slow.

     I kiss her temple. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

     "D-do you pro—promise?" She questions, voice small.

     I nod, even though she can't see me. Her head is still burrowed in my shoulder. "Yeah, I do."

     She looks up at me nervously. I smile encouragingly at her, but she doesn't smile back. My baby; my little girl.

     "I love you so much, sweetheart. I wouldn't let you get the surgery if something bad would happen." I say.

     "I—I l-love you t-too."

     Like always when words come out of her mouth, I beam and hold onto her tighter.