The Invasion

10 | A Daughter's Heart

When Clara realizes her husband hasn't returned, blood drains from her face.

"Where's George?"

Although both Charles and Max remain silent, their grim expressions explain it all. Sobs tear at Clara's throat as she breaks down in tears, burying her face in her hands. Emily shifts closer to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, not minding the tears soaking into her blouse.

I never knew how to console a grieving person. But after losing Avery, now I do. It's best to give them some space. Be there for them in silent company. It doesn't help when people say, 'He's in a better place now', 'I know how you feel' or 'It's unavoidable'. They are often, in my point of view, not making anyone feel better. Especially in this situation, when we, too, fear for our lives.

Acceptance of a death is never immediate. And it sucks that the only way to cure grief is to grieve.

In his bone-tired state, Charles looks a hundred times more remorseful and guilty. "I'm sorry, Clara. W-we tried to save him."

She clings harder onto Emily, her shoulders quivering in tears. As she's overwhelmed with pain and grief, I decide to volunteer myself as the babysitter – staying by her daughter's side.

Of course, Mia doesn't sleep long in this commotion. She wakes up and rubs a hand across her sleepy eyes. Her face scrunches up in bewilderment.

"Why is Mommy crying?"

"She–" Honestly speaking, I don't know how to break the news to her. "She's not feeling too good."

"Why?" Mia cranes her neck and searches the room, her brows dipping when she can't find the person whom she's looking for. "Where's Daddy?"

Shit. Please, can someone tell me how I'm supposed to tell a five-year-old girl that her father is dead? After a brief panic, I settle for a horrible excuse, pushing aside the guilt that's clawing at my chest for the lie that's about to come out of my mouth.

"He...he got lost, Mia." I smile at her weakly, my resolve almost weakening when she tilts her head at me innocently. "He'll find his way back soon."

"Daddy's lost?" She repeats my words, frowning. "But Daddy is never lost. He's great with his directions. Once, we got lost in a maze, but he led us right out within half an hour. He always says he has a built-in GPS in his head."

Swallowing down the lump of emotions in my throat, I let my hand run over the crown of her head gently. "Well, I guess he took a longer detour this time. Don't worry, Mia. Get some rest."

Her frown deepens in my way, but thankfully, Mom comes running towards us at the right time. In her hands are a packet of chewable cherry-flavored Tylenol and a bottle of water.

"Mia honey," Mom coaxes, easily distracting her from the topic about George's disappearance. "You need to take this and get that fever down."

We pop a tablet into her mouth, and she chews obediently. After Mom tucks her into bed, she falls asleep within seconds. Thank goodness for that.

As I stay right by her side, Mom runs back to the bags of supplies that Charles and Max have brought back with them. She reappears minutes later, pressing a gun to my hands along with a couple of cartridges.

"Mom." I'm startled by the firearm that she has given me. I've never held a gun before in my life, not even Mom's because she would hide it away somewhere in the house. "You're giving me this?"

Lips pressing tightly together, her eyes gleam with determination. "You'll need it to protect yourself, just in case," she tells me firmly. "You and I both know that the crowbar you're holding in your hand will not kill those things out there."