In Search for a Daddy

29

STANLEY POV

She's acting different. I lay here on my bed thinking of everything that happened. Was I too hard on her? Was I too harsh? I'm just really stressed out today. I didn't expect to come home like this. To a mess, to a messy bathroom, to my baby girl acting so badly, I thought I'd come home to my loving, well behaved (for the most part) baby girl. She just threw me off I guess because she's never done anything like this. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I should've given her things to do while I'm gone. I've never left her alone by herself for so long. But she knows what she's allowed to do. She has her toys, coloring books, tv, movies, things she can do.

I decide to go talk to her so I walk out of my room and downstairs. Her face when she saw me upstairs before she took off. She looked nervous, stressed, not herself. Is she out of little space?

I walk into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks when I see her binge eating brownies. She looks at me with wide eyes and quickly eats the last bite of brownie she had. She ignored me and focused back on the brownies. She picked up another one and I ran to her. I smacked the brownie out of her hand ignoring if the slap was hard or not. I grabbed the plate of brownies and she quickly tried grabbing it back.

"GIVE ME IT BACK!" She suddenly snapped. I took a step back from her and stared at her wondering what's gotten into her. I put the brownies in the fridge and grab Stella's arm before she got the chance to walk away.

She tries to pull away from me but I just tighten my grip ignoring the redness forming on her arm. "Let go of me!" She yells and I pull her to me. I sit her on the chair and sit next to her. "What is wrong with you?" I ask her. I realize what I just asked her and immediately regret saying it like that.

She just stares at the floor. I grab her chin and make her look at me. There's tears forming in her eyes. "Don't cry. It's ok. Talk to me." I tell her softly. I rub her arm trying to comfort her. She just breaks down and cries in her hands. I pull her over to me placing her on my lap and rock her side to side.

"Please talk to me." I tell her. I'm not sure what to do at this point. I hate seeing her like this. I know I shouldn't have punished her the way I did. I know I shouldn't have ignored her, shouldn't have let her call herself a bad girl, shouldn't have made her wash herself. This is my fault she's like this and I should've been more careful. She's too delicate for my ways...

She suddenly starts breathing heavily, her tears run down her cheeks harshly, her face is starting to redden, and her body is starting to shake. I get worried and out of instinct I stand her up and hold her arms tightly. "Breathe, Stella. Breathe!" I tell her. I look at her closely and watch her. Is she having some sort of anxiety attack? Panic attack? What is going on?

"Stella! Breathe!" Her breathing worsens and I wipe her eyes. I quickly get her a cup of water and she drinks it quickly. If she's having an anxiety attack then I know her mouth is most likely dry. Her breathing is slower but not normal. "Breathe. Listen to me, baby girl. Breathe. Breathe for me. Please!" I plead for her. This sight of her freaking out is scary. What's even more scary is that I don't even know what is causing her to do this. All I can blame is myself because that's the only reasoning I can come up with. I don't know for sure though so I can't help her. All I can help is by telling her to breathe.

Her breathing goes back to normal within 5 minutes and I sit down to relax. She runs out of the kitchen but I just let her go. That was scary, stressful, and so concerning I don't even know what to think of it. I'll just give her some time to calm down.

After about 30 minutes of giving her time I walk in her room. She laying on her bed cuddling her Olaf stuff toy. I sit on her bed and try to get her attention. "Stella?" I quietly say her name and she looks at me. "Please talk to me." I try not to let myself cry because I'm so concerned about my baby girl.

"This is why I don't get attached to people." She sniffles and I look at her confused. "What do you mean?" I ask her and she sighs. "What just happened downstairs?" I ask her needing to get to the bottom of this. "N...nothing." She stutters which obviously means she's lying. "Please Stella. I need to know. I'm worried about you." I grab her hand.

She sits up and looks at me. "Anxiety. Ok?! I get separation anxiety. I get anxiety when people lash out on me. I get anxiety when you hate me." She turns around, her back facing me and my jaw drops at what she said.

"I can never hate you. I don't hate you." I tell her and she lays still. I roll her on her back gently and look at her with sadness. "I'm sorry." I apologize to her. "No. I'm sorry. I knew this would happen and yet I still went through with it. I knew what you'd be getting yourself into and yet I still let you. I knew what I'd go through and yet I still let myself." Her eyes shows madness, her face shows irritation, her face shows anger, her face shows hate... hate with herself..

"I'm glad to be with you and I'm glad I got myself into this." I tell her and she looks at me. "But how long will that last?" Her lip quivers and she's trying not to cry again. "I love you..." I truly said. She looked at me with sorrow and I scoop her in my arms sitting her on my lap holding her tightly.

"I love you too but-" she starts and I shake my head. "No. No buts. I love you and that's all there is to it. You're mine, I'm yours, and we're in this together. If you have anxiety then talk to me don't let it build up like that because that was scary for me to see." I tell her and she nods her head.

After awhile of comforting her and telling her how much of a good, sweet, loving, little girl she is we go into my room to read a book then I put on Clifford on Netflix and we go to bed.