The Death of Daddy
The early morning sunlight streamed into the small, sparsely decorated living room. This wasn't a new sight to the lone person in the room; 5am meant seventeen-year-old Lauren Larson was entering her hundredth consecutive hour of wakefulness. Lauren had spent the night on her godfather's foldout couch, pleading with every higher power she could think for sleep. Nothing she had tried during the night had helped; she had concluded overnight that standard suggestions like warm milk and soft music were meant for people who, unlike her, weren't going through hell.
At 5:30 am, she began to reason with herself. She had to get sleep; turning into a sleepless, cranky monster was the very worst thing that could happen at this point. The bear wasn't too loud and she could always muffle if it woke her godfather up. It was also the one thing that she was yet to try and it couldn't hurt.
Lauren reached over to the other side of the bed and momentarily hugged the simple stuffed animal against her chest. Propping herself up against pillows, she pressed the belly of the bear gently.
"Where's my little girl?" Her father's gentle voice, slightly altered because of the quality and age of the original audio, sounded across the living room.
"Here I am, Daddy!!" She heard herself respond in the voice she had thirteen years ago.
"And, who's my pumpkin?" Lauren heard herself squealing in the background as her father presumably started tickling her.
"I am, Daddy, I am!!" The younger Lauren shrieked joyfully from within the bear, as the older Lauren's eyes filled with tears.
"I am, Daddy, I'm your pumpkin," she murmured, holding the bear close to her. All of the sudden, her demeanor changed and she began screaming at the bear.
" Damnit Daddy!! Why didn't you just take my advice and stay home?? If you had only listened to me, I told you a mental health day would be good for you!! It was my birthday, for Chrissake!! Why the hell did I have to celebrate my birthday with a hostage situation and have to watch you be carried out in a body bag?? Why, God damnit, why?" She took in a shuddering gasp.
"Why, Daddy, why…," she whimpered, eventually crying herself to sleep.
Across the room, half hidden behind a wall, John Munch watched the scene unfold. Tears streamed down his face as he realized that Daniel Larson had been more then a good man and a good cop; he had also been a good daddy. In the last hour, John began to realize that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to get to the same level.