[ CW ] End the story with `` And the home became a house ; an empty shell of what it once was . ''

I stood at the door, holding on to the frame. So I could stand a little longer while I started down the hallway of the home that I love. The home that holds the one that I hold in my heart, that I could n't live without. I always promise her that she will never leave this world before me. I picture her, my sweet innocent girl, sleeping soundly behind that soft pink door. I open the door, peering in to see the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps underneath the night sky lovingly painted on her ceiling. Easing open the door and silently tread across the carpet to her side. As I kneel to kiss her, I put my hand out to steady myself, placing it on the drawer that is beside her bed. It creaks sharply as I touch it and I freeze, holding my breath and praying that she wo n't wake. She sleeps on. I exhale and lean in again, ready to brush my lips against her head and then leave her to her slumber. As I lean I feel my hand slipping against the smooth wood of the drawers, upsetting my balance and pitching me towards the slight frame of my girl. 
 
 Crash. 
 
 As I hit the floor, I wake, already sobbing, shaking, gasping. I tear the blanket away that twists around my legs like a snake, I blindly stumbled to the door, knocking over the lamp that sits on the table. I run down the hallway, wrench open her door and cling to the doorway, tears streaming down my face as I stare at the bed that my little girl should be in. I cry out, cursing at the wind, screaming at the injustice of the world that took her away. I throw myself to the floor, curling up in the corner, wishing I could change everything. Wishing that I could have taken her place. 
 
 I wrapped my hands around my head, trying to shield my mind of the memories of yesterday and the weeks before that flooded in. 
 
 I see her transformed from a beautiful, radiant little girl, playing and enjoying the life of the kid that she was, to a shrunken, pitifully weak and broken child. 
 
 I watched as the hair fell from her head, as the tears rolled silently down her cheeks when she looked in the mirror, heartbroken that her once golden hair was reduced to a few lonesome strands of hair that clung to her head. 
 
 I watched as she wasted away, refusing the foods that she once loved, that she could no longer consume. 
 I watched as she grabbed at the bucket beside her bed, her head disappearing as she emptied the contents of her stomach into it, time and time again, to reemerge with tears springing in her eyes from the stinging bile that rose in her throat. 
 
 I watched as I held her tiny hand when the nurses came to collect her blood, wishing that I could spare her the pain. 
 
 I watched as she flinched when the needle pierced her skin, then lifting her head as she gave me that brave little smile. 
 
 I watched as she put on the gown, as she was slowly wheeled away into the room where they would fix her. The clock's hands inch their way across the glassy surface of the face that reminded me of every second I could not be with her. 
 
 I watched as the doctor came through the door, taking off his mask and scanning the room, looking for the father of his patient. As his eyes met mine, he smiled, my heart jumped. He strode forward and told me that she was going to be just fine. Tears sprung to my eyes as I hugged the man that had saved my little girl. 
 I waited, watched her as she woke, groggy and confused. She slept, I never left her. I felt a hand lightly rest on mine, and looked up into the eyes of the nurse that stood by my side. She told me to go and eat, that she would watch over my girl. I nodded, glanced at her face, so peaceful and still. I watched her as I walked away, smiling at the thought of the life that was before her. 
 I peered out the window as I was returning, down into the passage below that led to the operating room. As I stood for a moment, enjoy the rare moment of piece in the secluded room I saw a bed being wheeled down the corridor below. I frowned, my heart going out to the child and the parents that must surely be near. Nurses and doctors rushed around the bed, and as it came closer I saw the child in the bed. 
 It was my little girl, wide eyed, terrified, her pale hands gripping the cold metal bars of the bed. Her eyes feverishly darted around, searching in vain for her father. She needed me, more than she ever had in her short life, and I was n't there. I saw the despair creep into her face as she realized I was n't there, was n't coming to save her. Her head slumped back into the pillow as I threw my hands against the glass, screaming her name. Tears started to stream down her deathly white face. She stared straight ahead, at the doors that held her fate. Then, she was gone, through the doors and into the room that lay beyond them. Aghast, I teared myself away from the glass and felt the dreadful powerlessness overcome every inch of my body. I sprinted down the corridor, threw myself down the stairs and burst through the door and into the ward. A shocked nurse opened her mouth, but her words remained unspoken as I ran past, into the corridor that my precious girl was in moments ago. A doctor was waiting for me, grabbed me and forced me to sit. He too, opened his mouth to speak, but never uttered the words that I dreaded to hear. The doors to the operating room opened and again, a doctor came towards me. As he removed his mask, I knew. The moisture in his eyes spoke louder than words. 
 
 Tearing my hands from my face I rammed my head against the wall, forcing myself to stop. The shock of the physical pain ripped me away from my memories and I staggered to my knees, fumbling my way out of the room, down the corridor and out of the front door, standing, hunched over, clutching the frame of the house that could n't support me. The frame that was failing me, just as I failed my only child. I told her that they fixed her. Darling, I said, you are going to get better now, the pain is going to go away. 
 My daughter left this world knowing that her Daddy had abandoned her, lied to her and left her for dead. 
 I gripped the empty wooden frame, the solid wood door left open to the chilling night air. My eyes pierced the blackness as I remember the first time I entered this place, her hand holding tightly onto mind. Never again will I hold her, and I know my life is now as empty as the frame I stand in. 
 Turning to face the corridor she once ran in I was filled with loathing at the very paint that clung to the miserable walls. I wanted to destroy everything that reminded me of the father I had failed to be. 
 I could not live in this place, I could n't live at all. 
 My daughter made my heart a home, and with her it was nothing. I had failed her. 
 Her very smile filled every nook and crevice of my heart, like a family fills a house and transforms it into a home. She was dead, before her life had even begun, and the home became a house; an empty shell of what it once was. 
 

