He didn't know what to do, but when did he ever? He didn't know what to do the day his sister died, what to do with the children she left behind, what to do with a career that was barely supporting itself, or what to do with himself. This was no different, yet it still shook him to the very core.
Daisy had locked herself away after inheriting a taste bud for the Tasty Paste bucket of crap Gwumpki decided to give her; Donald never voiced his concerns, but he always made a rather big show of his distaste for the restaurant owner. There wasn't anything inherently "bad" about Gwumpki, other than the fact that he seemed to enable the boys in their vicious antics behind their uncle's back. Donald struggled enough in trying to develop better parenting skills, and the fact that the rebellion outpowers him doesn't make it easier.
But that was an idea to dwell on for another night, his biggest concern was Daisy's sudden addiction. It had always been the essence of who she was: gaining the attention of an audience, fussing about how Donald treated the boys and how he needed to keep his temper in check, her general self-image, and how she appeared to passerby. He had grown used to it, maybe even rather fond of it, but this took it to a whole different level.
She wouldn't answer the phone, she wouldn't open the door, and she hardly showed face on camera set (so much so that Kent Powers started hounding Donald about Daisy losing her job). For once, Donald was utterly frightened, and not many things could elicit that kind of reaction out of him anymore. The boys weren't made aware of it yet, nor did they seem to pay attention to it. If anything, it looked like another one of his and Daisy's quarrels.
Donald could never handle any inconvenience that came forth to him, let alone dealing with conflict. Breaking glass and screaming at the top of his lungs wouldn't save someone he cared about; Donald had learned that one too many times. But it was often better than feeling the grief that would bury him in his pain. But he wasn't grieving this time, he was scared of losing someone.
Daisy was about the only thing that kept him sane throughout the years, and no one could measure up a talking-down to like she could. She was the reality slap that Donald needed to escape his angry episodes. Now, it was her the one in need.
He was at the steps of her front porch, eyeing the doorbell with a silent hesitation. For as long as he could remember, he never took a problem like this head-on; he always avoided or fought against anything that threatened him. But he couldn't do that now, he couldn't leave Daisy behind, but he couldn't hurt her either. So what was he to do?
He had no idea, but Donald would rather try a hand at compassion than lose another loved one. The bell resonated through his head, as a newfound hope blurred his vision.
Author's Note:
This story was inspired by a request. Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed the reading!