Her ragged breathing was the one thing he could never get used to. It sounded like when she was younger and she would get sick and breathe sharply in and out of her mouth. It made Philip constantly want to lean over and check her temperature, give her soup, sing her a lullaby or tell her a story to help her to feel better just like he always did before. It became an instinctive thing, to become sad at the thought of his little girl being sick. She was still sick now, but it was far from something that could be cured by a story and some chicken noodle soup. He looked at his daughter where she sat in front of him, gnawing on a chunk of ham he had given her, wheezing breaths as she attacked the chunk of meat. Penny had always loved ham, Philip remembered how he and his wife would cut it into small bits for her even as a baby and she would smile as they brought it to her.
He could tell when she had finished her dinner, the gnawing had stopped and it was just the wheezing again as she sat calmly, still licking the little bits of blood that had remained on her fingers. Penny was smart, she never bit herself while she was eating anymore. She knew it would hurt her. Philip knew that she knew that, that she thought, that she was still Penny, she was just sick now. He stroked his daughter's hair gently as she wheezed and licked at her own hands. She was sick, oh so sick. He heard her groan, perhaps in response to his touch, but she didn't move to attack. Perhaps she was trying to talk to him. She groaned again, softly.
"There there..." Philip stoked her head, "it's okay, Penny, you'll feel better soon." He took a deep breath. "Want Daddy to sing you a song?" He asked her, not holding out for a response as he gently slipped down next to her, trying his hardest not to startle her. He kneeled right beside her, meeting her level. "Come stop your crying... It'll be alright." He sang softly, the song from Tarzan that he knew she loved. Tarzan had scared the daylights out of her with the guns and the jaguar and the giant gorillas, but she loved that song. "Just take my hand, hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you. I will be here, don't you cry." His voice was rough, but it shook when he saw his daughter turn her head as if she recognized the song. "Penny..." He said quietly, before she groaned at him, starting to scuffle towards him on all fours like when they would play puppies.
Philip grabbed the old bag he would slip over her head to calm her down, hoping that just one time he wouldn't have to. He saw her reach one of her small arms towards him, grabbing at his shirt. She would always cling to his shirt when she was afraid, specially after... He wondered if she was afraid now, and this was how she was telling him. She could no longer speak or cry and grabbing his shirt was her one way of telling him "Daddy I'm afraid, I don't want to be sick anymore."
Philip took a deep breath, knowing what his daughter could do. He slipped the bag over her head, being careful when he tightened the string at the bottom so he wouldn't tangle it into her hair. "Shhhhhhhh." He held her at arms length away from him while she still tried to grab him. "Shhhhhhh" He repeated, grabbing at the straps of her jacket. He hated keeping his baby girl in this contraption but until she was better, until she was Penny again she needed it. He had her arms tucked in in no time. He was still much stronger than his seven year old. When she was strapped in he moved carefully back to his chair and placed his daughter in front of himself, hugging her as tightly as he could. "For one so small you seem so strong, my arms will hold you keep you safe and warm." He tightened his grip around her, trying his hardest not to hurt her. That was the worst part of keeping her like this. It was when he would be restraining her, or when he forgot she was sick and weaker and was too rough with her and he could tell he had hurt her. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do. "This bond between us can't be broken. I will be here, don't you cry." He sang gently into her ear, still able to hear her breathing through the bag.
The girl continued to restlessly groan, trying to squirm away from him. "You'll be in my heart." He sang, his voice shaking once again. The words to the song now far more relevant than they ever were. She was his daughter, she was his daughter from the day she was born and long past the day she died. He loved her just as much now as he ever did before and he knew one day she would be okay again. Maybe she would never be like she used to be but she could be better than she was now if he only took care of her right. "Yes you'll be in my heart, from this day on, now and forever more." He felt her movements become fewer and eventually slow enough for him to feel comfortable taking the bag off of her head. He moved strands of hair out of her face, gently combing it out with his hands.
"You'll be in my heart," He choked, trying to stop himself. He knew Penny hated it when he cried. He had to be her strong father and be there for her. He remembered not long after his wife's passing, after he put Penny to bed, that was the only time he was able to cry. He'd still try to keep from it as much as he could, but there were occasions where he would look at the spot where she used to lay and be unable to let a single limb into it.
Then Penny would come into his room, sporting her mismatched pajamas and holding whichever stuffed animal was her favorite at the time. "Daddy, are you okay?" She would ask him, crawling beside him in bed, in her mother's spot. When Penny occupied that half of the bed it was okay. She was all he had left of his wife, all he had left in the world.
"Daddy's fine." He would tell her, trying to collect himself for her. He needed her to know that just because her mother was gone didn't mean things weren't going to be okay. The world was not going to end... so he thought.
"Why are you crying?" She would ask him. Philip was positive she knew exactly why, it was the same reason she cried. He would extend an arm and let her curl up next to him as he held her tightly. "Is it because you miss Mommy?" He would nod, not wanting her to hear his voice croaking. She would hug him. She never talked much after her mother's passing, not even to Philip. She would just hug him, because she never knew what to say either. Sometimes she would cry too, but she would never leave his side if she knew her father was feeling sad.
"No matter what they say." He sang quietly, trying to collect himself once again. He heard her groan again and leaned foreword to look at his daughter's scarred and bloody face. Her eyes were glazed over and her mouth was covered in blood. She was still his beautiful little girl though, and she always would be. He was sure of that. He continued stroking her hair, no longer feeling like he was going to cry. He grabbed the makeshift leash he would sometimes use when moving her from place to place and freed her hands. "You'll be here in my heart, always." He finished the song with a heavy breath, standing to walk his little girl to her bed after her lullaby. Perhaps his singing worked and she would feel better soon.