[ WP ] `` Daddy , are we the bad guys ? ''

She always had beautiful hair. I would often follow the whispers and fits of giggling upstairs, through the princess-plastered door to find my wife meticulously brushing her. Their night light illuminated smiles have faded from my mind ’ s eye. Such happiness and warmth act only as dusted relics of a different world, a good world. Although her smile was lost, her hair was unwavering. The long, blonde strands still gleamed like golden fields of wheat, swaying in the rays of summer. I held her trembling head in my lap and slowly combed my fingers down her bangs. I swallowed the knot in my throat, but could n't resist the silent tears as I raked tooth fragments and raw flesh from my child ’ s hair. Rivers of maroon clumped the stalks of grain into an alien mess. 
 
 “ Daddy, are we the bad guys? ” 
 
 Composing myself, I answered, “ No baby girl, the bad guys were going to hurt you. But sometimes good people need to do bad things. ” 
 
 “ Mom could n't do bad things, could she. ” 
 
 “ No baby, she couldn't. ” 
 
 I kept combing. I needed to see their smiles again.
