Bailey wanted to cry, that’s all.
Crouched there in the living room, head buried in her knees, back up against the wall, her body fought her. It wanted to shake. It wanted to cry.
But she was Galactic Man’s good little girl, and she wasn’t about to cry. Not when he was sure to come back any minute. Not after he’d been a hero and saved the day, like he always did.
Don’t cry, she thought. Daddy doesn’t want you to cry.
With her eyes closed and her heart set on it, she managed to keep herself from crying. Still, there was no denying the shakes. The emotion had to get out somehow, and no matter how tightly she held her body, she couldn’t stop shaking.
Galactic Man entered the living room looking flawless, except for one unfortunate detail: his shirt, which was riddled with bullet holes. It wasn’t even his costume: just a nice red Polo shirt, worn to fit in among the upper class gated community.
Before changing his shirt, though, Galactic Man had to attend to his family. He walked over to Bailey and put his hand on her brown hair. His thick hot palm moved from the top of her head down to her chin. He lifted her head up, making her leave the comfort of her knees.
“Hey,” he said, voice soft. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not crying.” Bailey held back the tears. “I’m not crying. I’m not crying. I’m not crying.”
“I don’t see why you should cry.” Galactic Man got on one knee, looking his daughter in her beautiful blue eyes. “You think a couple measly bullets can kill daddy’s little girl?”
Don’t cry, she told herself. You have to be strong.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this until it sinks in: nothing’s gonna kill you.” The words filled Galactic Man’s heart with pride. “You can’t die.”
Slowly, Bailey moved to hug her father. She squeezed him as tightly as she could.