The echo of her final breath was scattered by the child's scream.  Her husband stood, shivering in the fading fog of memory as his stained hopes flooded the floor.
The wail surged.
Turning towards his daughter, the man let out a cry that tangled with chance and time and devastating inevitability.
"You're all I have, now."

--

The girl's bliss striped the walls, sunshine struggling to overcome reminiscence. But, unable to elude history, corners of the house hid contours. These shadows were joined by bottles-- manifested misery.
The man, split by his addiction, murmured apologies to his daughter. He loved her more than the stars, but she alone couldn't evanesce his nightmares.

--

Collapsing on the floor, the letter seemed to know its burden. Each syllable clung to the paper, weighted by more than ink and air. These words were pinned, draped in defeated denial. Inescapable truth creased the page.
Hurling a bottle through the glass, the man let his speech join his secrets.
"I won't let them take her."

--

He was weary. Fatigue crawled within the man's joints, overtaking his sinews with a spidery smile. Exploiting this ardor, lust and avarice seeped through him. They stamped a fiery kiss upon his marrow.
Twenty-six days, read the scratches on the sill. A drop leaked onto the tallies, blurring their visibility.
The man glanced away, ashamed.

--

The two beheld the fragmenting world. Their speech faltered, struggling to find sense among ruin. The man, fluent in regret, felt his eyes fill with sorrow beyond translation. Shadows passed until his daughter's hand was split from his own.
In that moment, the man seemed to bear archaic understanding. Slowly, while carrying centuries, he whispered goodbye.

--

Silence smothered window-panes, streaking ink across the glass. It laughed, sharp corners racing through the man's ribcage.
Clarity dissipated. Cracked glass lined the hallways and dust-soaked rooms, accompanied by the miasma of musty liquour.
The man could barely breathe. Asphyxia climbed through his throat and dusk dominated his irises.
Night was catching up to him.

--

The hollow flute of the doorbell woke the man from where he splayed, inebriated and apathetic. He swayed, senses scrambling. Finally stumbling into the entryway, he tugged the front entrance open.
That familiar smile immediately sobered the man, and his jaw loosened with chagrin.
“Come in,” he murmured to his daughter. “I’ll go clean up.”

--

Her voice, sanguine and flannel, flickered farewell as she walked down the woodland path.
Wandering west, the girl lifted up her face. The sun permeated her pale skin, infusing her with a light that radiated from her fingertips and the ends of her hair.
Silent and serene, the man watched his daughter become the sunset.