December 12th 2018

It was the Sixth Anniversary of the incident. The Sixth Anniversary of his 'death'. The Sixth Anniversary of the day he started running and never stopped. By his side is the possibly the most valuable being the world has to offer, that he has to offer as compensation to the world. She's all he has left to give in order to pay back those who fell victim to his stupidity.

And, to his surprise, she was more than fine with becoming the sacrifice he needed to make the world beautiful.

The house was quiet, the scent of the damp winter ridden breeze wafting through the opened windows of the laboratory like room. The progress in his research has come to a dying halt, and there's no turning back.

"No," He shakes softly, staring at his papers, and then at the reflections on the board. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" He slams his hands on the wooden desk, causing the furniture to tremble under the impact and sending empty beakers and test tubes tumbling to the floorboards. The sound of glass shattering to the floor falls deaf to his ears. He rests his head into his hands, fingernails clawing and digging into his scalp. "Oh, What have I done..? This can't be happening.."

This isn't the first time his tests have resulted in failure, and this isn't the first time his failure has caused repercussions far worse than death. He pressed two fingers against the swollen, throbbing edges of his eyelids. Moonlight filtered into the darkened room, making the fatal mistake all the more clearer to see. What has he done to himself?

"This can't be.." He wheezes out, shaking his head. "This can't be happening. This can't be!"

"Dad?"

He abruptly stands up, toppling over his chair in the process, quickly holding a hand to cover the right side of his face. "Rose!" He smiles despite the panic and distress surging through him. She can't know. She can't know that he has come to another dead end. She can't know that he's failed.

"I heard you from down the hall." She looks down at the broken glass, the toppled over chair. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" He turned to see the mess that he had made. "Oh, that." He looks back at her. "I'm fine Rose, really. I'm just a little tired."

She smiled softly. "Then get to bed! You're spending too much time on that and not bothering to take care of yourself." She went towards him, taking hold of his free hand and tugging him forward. "If you die from sleep deprivation who's going to continue your researches?"

He release a shaky breath. "Rose, I'm, not going to die from sleep deprivation."

"Yes you can, and you will if you don't haul yourself to bed this instant!"

There was another tug, causing him to lose his balance and misplace his hand for a moment. Panic electrified his muscles and he snapped away from her.

"I said I'm fine, Rose!" He spat out, panting and holding his chest. "Get away from me, please."

With that, she took a step back, shivering softly at his tone. He had never snapped at her like this. Or, at least, with such force as he did then. She nodded nervously.

He gave her a pained look.

"Oh, god." He stepped forward but she flinched back. "Rose, I'm sorry, I just..."

She looked back up at him, fear and worry glazing her eyes.

"What's going on?" She spoke softly. "Why are you acting so weird?"

"I'm fine." He tried to reassure. He slumped softly when she gave him a look of doubt. "Okay, maybe I'm a little tired." He looked back at his research. With a small sigh, he caved into her wish. "Fine, I'll get in bed in a few minutes, just let me clean this mess up."

"Are you sure? I can do that if you want me to-"

"No." He tried not to come off harshly, but in his state it was unavoidable. "It's okay, Rose, I can handle this. Just get back in bed, okay?"

She stood there for a moment, examining him for a moment before nodding. "Okay." She watched him carefully before stepping back. "Okay. I'll get in bed. Please, try to get some rest."

He offered her a gentle smile. "I'll make sure to do that, sweetie. I love you."

She smiled back. "Alright. I love you too, Dad."

With that she left, and he was left alone to stare at his pitiful reflection in the mirror on his desk. He removed his hand, watching his own eye throb and twitch, as though it were uncomfortable in his eye socket. The unnatural black sclera and red iris were all he needed to see to know that he had failed in his attempt to cure his own daughter of her 'ailment', and instead bring it onto himself.

He fell to his knees, shaking his head. This wasn't suppose to happen. He wasn't supposed to become the one thing he despised most in this world. He wasn't supposed to be a Ghoul.