Daddy's Little Girl

Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad. –Unknown

This time of the year is always hard because Dad is not here.

It's why I didn't mind and even requested for the Sunday shift at the local department store I work at. College kept me busy and my mind off of Dad's death, but it was always hard to not think about him in the summer—the days we used to spend watching movies, camping, fishing, hiking, barbequing, just laughing and talking about nonsense, and sometimes crying when he tells me about the mother I wish I could have met, the only other woman besides me who made him happy. It's been three years since his murder, and even though I'll always be grateful to Douglas for trying to act like a fatherly figure, he could never replace Harry Mason.

Afternoon was really slow, practically dead in the Home Improvement department. The real rush was yesterday and Friday, when everyone was trying to get in last minute Father's Day gifts.

I checked the time on my cell phone. Four hours away from closing. Shit. With nothing to do, I twirled my hair like a ditzy blonde and wondered if my manager would get mad if I snuck away for a tiny cigarette break on the clock.

Before I could even reach for a cigarette in my pocket, Sam looked up from scanning labels and gave me a hard glare.

Okay, guess not.

Bored, I began to tap the keys of the cash register and thought about what classes I should take next semester. I should start picking a major, get a degree that would make Dad proud. Ah, what the hell? He'd only be proud if I published a top-selling novel, but I was never a good writer. An artist? Maybe. I always loved drawing, ever since I was a little girl. Dad used to tell me that a picture is worth a thousand words, but he never saw some of the artworks I hid away and the ones I created after his death. So dark and chilling and grotesque. I bet the only words one can utter are: What the fuck is wrong with her?

But hey, going to Silent Hill will fuck anyone up.

Footsteps suddenly echoed through the store, and I instantly stood tall, pretending I gave a crap about the customer service I was paid minimum wage to provide.

A short teenage girl in a navy jumper, about fourteen or fifteen, ran up and down the aisles, her light blonde ponytail swaying with her excitement. She disappeared for a few minutes before popping up in front of me, tip-toeing to exaggerate her presence on the other side of the counter.

"Hey lady, can I get some help here?" she snapped, her pretty doll-like blue eyes growing wide with an almost murderous glint.

Stupid brat.

I gave my fakest, friendliest smile. "Sure thing, sweetheart. What are you looking for?"

"I totally forgot today is Father's Day. I'm trying to buy something for the old man, but I need help picking out a present."

"How about a nice dress shirt?" I suggested, hoping to push her into the Clothing department so Martha, the nasty old lady who used to hit on Dad, could deal with her.

"Nah. He wears this ugly green jacket all the time. That's it. He's set. He probably sleeps in that thing, too. I've given up on getting him to dress like a normal human being."

I sighed. Seeing no way out of helping her, I stepped around the counter and walked down a random aisle. Dirt and gardening tools. "Is he a gardener?" I asked.

"No."

"Well, why don't you tell me more about your dad?"

"Let's see…" She stroked her chin, looking as if she were pondering hard. "He's a klutz. Walks into walls a lot. I guess I care about his well-being? What's something he can use in case he gets into a sticky situation?"

I couldn't help but smirk at my dark humor. "Maybe a flashlight and a radio?"

"Ha ha, very funny. Maybe I should also throw in a steel pipe, hmm?"

Okay, now the joke was on me. Chills snaked down my spine when she turned around and gave me a smug look. I instantly had the urge to ask her if she knew about Silent Hill but calmed down after a few moments. It was just a dumb coincidence that she mentioned the damn pipe. It had to be. Nothing more.

I told myself that, but I still couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something weird about this girl. She did remind me of myself when I was younger. Bratty, short temper, sharp tongue. I was beginning to sort of like this customer, but there's still definitely something a little off about her.

"Even though he's an idiot sometimes, I still think he's the best dad in the whole word," she said, her eyes lighting up with a genuine smile.

I laughed. "Sorry, but that title goes to my dad."

"Mine!"

"Nope, mine. He literally went through hell for me. Even though I'm not his biological daughter, he raised and loved me as I were his very own flesh and blood. He put his career on hold, moved to another town, and sacrificed his social life, all just to keep me safe…" My mirth was quickly fading. "My happiness mattered more to him than his own life."

A great force pushed against the bridge my nose, and my eyes subsequently began to water. I swiftly turned around, muttering an excuse for allergies.

I felt embarrassed arguing with a kid about who had the better dad, but I also had to admit it was nice to talk to someone about Dad after all these years. We don't have many relatives, and if I were to talk about him with friends, I'd only end up being pitied. God knows that's the last thing I want, so I had to admit it was fun and even therapeutic in a strange way to brag a bit about the best man in the world.

"So you were adopted? Me too! His wife and I were very close before she died, and she cared for me like her daughter. I hated how he was such a jerk to her, but to make a long story short, things managed to work out in the end. I guess you can say we're a very tiny but happy family. He's all I have."

I couldn't believe how much this stranger and I had in common. And the most important thing we shared was the fact that we love our dads unconditionally, though she showed that in a rather unusual way.

"You know, on second thought, maybe I will get him a flashlight and a radio."

My lips curved into an uneasy smile but I nodded anyway and went down the aisle to grab her products. When I placed the items on the counter, I was again hit with an overwhelming desire to know if she was somehow acquainted with Silent Hill.

"Hey, quick question. Umm…have you ever heard of Silent Hill?"

She gave me a look that I could only describe as suspicious. "Yeah, I have actually. That's where I met Dad. You know, they say that town is cursed, but it has granted me a pretty darn good miracle."

I was about to disagree with her, but then I remembered that if not for that town, I would have never met Dad either. But it was also because of that town that he's no longer here. I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. Even though we only had seventeen years together, those seventeen years gave me a lifetime's worth of happy memories.

Another question was forced out of my mouth. "You didn't happen to see anything weird in that town, did you?"

"Weird?" She frowned, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean? It's just a deserted town."

"No crazy people? No…monsters?"

"Nope, why would there be monsters roaming around? Were you high on something at the time?"

I shrugged it off. "Yeah, maybe I was."

"I do remember this one crazy man though. He was a fatso who loved pizza. Told me he killed a man and a dog because they were making fun of him."

Gee, compared to Vincent and Claudia, this man actually seemed quite sane if that was all he did.

She handed me a credit card before stepping away from the counter. "Hold on! I want to grab something else."

When she disappeared into an aisle again, I examined the name on the card. James Sunderland. Was this man her dad?

I rang up the radio and the flashlight and waited for the girl to return. A few seconds later, she appeared with a toilet plunger in her hand.

"Please don't ask. Just don't," she warned.

Fine, whatever. It was none of my business anyway. "Everything comes out to thirty dollars and sixty-two cents."

"Charge it on Dad's card."

I raised an eyebrow at her and swiped the card. "You know, I wouldn't exactly call this a gift."

"I have no money. He'll understand."

I packed the items for her in a large shopping bag and returned her card. "Whatever you say. Here you go. Thanks for shopping here."

The girl took the bag and prepared to leave. After taking three steps, she turned back. "Hey, you think I should grab a steel pipe for him on my way home?" she asked with a wink.

Despite her question leaving my skin crawling with goose bumps, I grinned and winked back. "Yeah, I think all dads could use one."

-Fin

A/N: Just something quick I thought up while eating dinner a few days ago. It never occurred to me until recently that Heather and Laura have a lot in common, especially family background wise. I wanted to make Laura much younger in this story but realized I couldn't because of the timeline. SH2 takes place roughly six years before SH3, so there was no way I could have kept Laura around ten/eleven, lol. I originally wanted to post this up near Father's Day, but I figured since I finished writing it already, I should just post it now.

Thanks for reading!