Torn [working]

He hung up the phone. He was so clearly unprepared when he got the news. He sat stunned for a second, fumbling with his thoughts. He was a bit shaken, and wasn't sure what could be happening. Just then he remembered. But he never expected the news to come now, not this early.

The trip to his car seemed especially long today. As he neared, he pawed for his keys in his pocket. When he retrieved them, he scratched the red paint around the keyhole trying to unlock the door, exposing the metal beneath, and when he finally found it, he jumped in, turned the key and sped off. The tire marks he left cooled quickly in the rain.

The doctor's words echoed in his head as he flew home: "She's not doing too well, you better come now."

He saw the doctor standing in the doorway as he pulled up the driveway. He walked up uneasily, and with a wince and a hitch, he climbed the stairs to the deck. His hip had been bothering him ever since he caught her when she stumbled on the stairs last week. "Better me than them," he had thought.

"It's a girl" the doctor said, his passive expression both thrilling and puzzling. "And she's perfectly healthy." He was relieved. A smile blossomed on his face as he realized he was a father. He had been neutral on which sex he desired, holding neither in higher esteem than the other, but when he pictured what his new baby girl might look like, he was pleased with the outcome. He didn't want to know what the baby's sex was going to be before the birth, and neither did his wife, so-

"Oh my God," he said, the smile now far from his face, "is my wife-?"

The doctor bowed his head. "Unfortunately, the mother suffered extensive blood loss, and with the other complications during the birth-" The doctor sighed. "You better hurry."

He opened the door, not sure what to feel as he entered, but he could not help but be moved by the sight of her slender body lying weak in the center of the room. He went to her, and as he approached, she looked up at him with a fading gaze. He watched as tears fell from her eyes. She opened her nearly lifeless lips and moved to speak, but from them could choke only silent sobs.

Bereaved, he clenched her hand and said to her, "She's beautiful. She's beautiful and she's healthy, but she needs you, I need you, please don't leave us. I can't do it without you." He sobbed as the final tear fell from her face. "I love you" he whispered, as he kissed her hand, "I love you so much." He repeated these words endlessly, as if saying them would bring her back. "I love you."

After what seemed like forever, he placed her hand on her chest, wiped the tears from her cold cheeks, and kissed her forehead. "I love you" he whispered again. He rose to his feet as the medics arrived, wiped his nose, and went to check on his baby girl.

The days passed, he had planned the funeral, and had received only his closest visitors. He sat by the fire, holding his new daughter wrapped in a blanket as the cold rain fell as hard as his tears fell on his knees. He knew he needed her light to guide him through the darkness. He had to raise her the way they would have done together. He began to speak aloud in a somber voice, not necessarily to God, but to whoever was listening: "I knew in a general way how bittersweet life could be, but such bitterness seen through my own eyes has upset and repelled me, for never have I felt sorrow so afflicting." His little girl, peacefully sleeping, was the only thing keeping him together. But she knew not of his pain, and certainly not of her own loss. The innocence embodied in this child was painful to him.

He sat there and rocked, adoring his princess, admiring her, for she would grow to be just like her mother, and that would be the most beautiful thing.

[Still needs work]