2: Her loss

 The Capital, April 1859

*Everly*

 Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.

 The words keep repeating themselves in my mind. To say them out loud would be too final and too cruel. My dear papa has been caught in a vortex of pain for way too long already. He is slowly wasting away, and he is already a mere shadow of the strong and always laughing Alpha of the Blue diamond pack. The one person in the world I love the most.

 Sitting in a chair beside his bed, I am holding his withered hand, a hand too weak to squeeze back. So I do the squeezing, trying to tell him with my touch what I can not bring myself to utter with words: It’s all right to let go.

 Partly because the moment he is gone I have no idea what will happen to me. I try to ignore that fact. I have no wish to make his final moments more difficult, but the sad truth is that I have no idea how to get through even one day without him. As I however have no choice I will have to steal myself and find a way. Right now all I care about is comforting him.

 For the last couple of hours he has merely been studying me. It has gotten late and outside the big city has grown quiet. My fathers most trusted servants are quietly waiting outside the door. A single lamp on his bedside table is highlighting his pale complexion, his hollow cheeks and the sunken eyes.

 His eyes open and close in a slow blink, then he turns his head with a tired motion. It looks like he is trying to focus on something by the foot of the bed. “Orley ?”

 The words come out as little more than a whisper, the voice uncharacteristic rough and scratchy, like it takes every last bit of energy to speak.

 “Yes, father”. He answers softly.

 My half brother is leaning against the bedpost, his arms crossed over his chest and his otherwise handsome face as cold and void of emotions as the porcelain dolls my father used to give me when I was a little girl.

 “I need you … promise … need you to promise…”. He mumbles weakly. “Make sure … cared for … that Eve is well cared for”.

 “I give you my word that she will have all she deserves”. He says after a short pause.

 For some reason I can’t fully comprehend, an uncomfortable shiver runs quickly up my spine. Orley Littlefoot, presently future Alpha, has never been cruel to me, but then on the other hand, he has never been kind either. He has, for the most of the time, simply ignored me. 

 I find it rather sad that we know so little about each other, especially as now we will only have each other for comfort.

 My father nods a single time, before giving me a small soft smile. His eyes are no longer glittering with the pride and joy that they usually did when he looked at me. They simply seem so incredibly weary. “You are as beautiful … as your mother”.

 Tears are burning my eyes and threatening to start streaming down my cheeks. “You will see her soon. She will be waiting for you, you know ?”

 “It’s the only thing … it makes leaving you not quite so painful …. to see her again.” His gaze moves to the canopy above his bed as his smile softens and a distant look glaces over his violet eyes, eyes I have inherited. “Ah, how she made me laugh. That is the secret to love, Everly. Laughter. Remember that my darling”.

 There is something about his words, his tone of voice that moment makes me almost believe that the doctors might be wrong … He suddenly seems so much stronger that I feel hope that it might not yet be time to say goodbye. Still I can’t take the chance, and I feel I have to let him know how much he means to me. He has always been my rock. The law would have allowed him to ignore my assistance, but instead he made me feel like a treasured princess. “I shall remember every word you’ve ever spoken, every smile you ever gave me, every laugh we shared, everything about you. I love you so much, Papa”.

 His tired gaze settles back on me. “You were always the light of my life”.

 “As you were mine”. I say softly.

 Then the light flares out. One second it is there, the next it is simply gone.

 “Father ?” I gently press my lips to his hand, finally allowing the pend up tears to fall. I had not wanted to upset him by crying. Right now my heart feels like it has been trampled by a horde of elephants. “Safe travels papa”.

 “Go to your room, Everly”. It comes sternly from the end of the bed.

 Snapping up my head, I twist around and stared at my half brother, the new Alpha. He has not moved a muscle. Actually he appears no different. It is as though nothing has happened at all. As though death has not just made a visit, as though everything in our lives has not suddenly changed for the worse. The clock on the mantel continues to tick. Someone should stop it. All clocks need to be stopped. A house in mourning does not have ticking clocks. Suddenly, irrationally, it becomes very important to me that the blasted clocks cease their infernal ticking.

 “Go to your room, now”. He repeats in a flat emotionless voice. “And wait there until I come for you”.

 “I wanted to help prepare him”. I feel a need to help wash him, to dress him in his finest clothes, to comb his hair, simply to give him the dignity in death that his illness had stolen from him during the final days of his life.

Orley shakes his head. “The servants will do it”.

 “Then I would at least like another mo …”. I start saying.

 “No”. He simply cuts me off.

 I feel confused as to why he is acting like this. “Orley …”.

 “It’s Alpha Littlefoot now, and you will do as I command. Go to your room willingly, or I shall drag you there”. His voice is a low growl.

 I want to ask why he is being so harsh, what I have done to deserve his lack of sympathy during this devastating moment, but I already know the answer. I have simply been born.

 I look at my father, knowing it is most likely the last time. He is so pale, so small and so fragile. His hand has gone limp in mine. I gently let it go, then I stand and study his quiet frail features. He hardly looks like himself. I do hope my mother will recognize him.

 “Everly, you are testing my patience”. Orley says in a low threatening tone.

 With only the tiniest bit of rebellion, I delay leaving, determined to have the few extra seconds I so desire. I comb my fingers through my father’s snowy white hair, then I lean over and press a kiss to the wrinkles that had begun to collect on his forehead in the end. “Goodbye, Father. Be at peace”.

 I doubt that I shall ever be, now that you are gone. You were my safe harbor, and suddenly I feel as though I am cast out to sea, set adrift on dangerous waters.

 Without looking at my half brother, I slowly walk from the room. I have never felt so lonely, so sad or so wretchedly alone.