#branora

The crying was a soft echo from the bathroom. Brandon had been laying on his bed watching his hands shake against his will. No more alcohol. Nothing to keep his blood from freezing over again. He now understood all to well how the ice queen came to find herself so numb. When he focused a little more the crying sounded more like a whimper from the other room. The sound of a baby waking up from a nap. Brandon let his feet carry him to the other room. His body reluctantly followed with them as the withdrawal racked through it.

It wasn't what it should have been. The bathroom had changed into a pale pink nursery room causing the frost around his heart to melt. "Europe" was painted delicately above a crib against the far right wall. In the crib the small baby stirred with hair like her fathers but the face of her mother. He didn't believe it. He couldn't let his heart believe that the nightmare was really his daughter dying. Brandon's fingers reached out to graze the crib. Solid it slid beneath his fingers. His hands wrapped around the small human that kicked gently with in the frame. The little girl curled into him as he pulled her up. "It's okay, baby girl, daddies here," he whispered rubbing his finger over her warm cheek. Everything felt real and it caused Brandon to smile. She's alive. She has to be. This is real.