The moment I flick on Lucy's light the following morning, I know something is wrong.

She's sitting up in bed, her nose is red, her eyes are watery, and she looks like she hasn't slept at all.

"Hey kiddo." I say carefully, inching further into the room.

"Hi Daddy."

Her voice is nasally and she looks sick.

"Are you feeling okay baby?" I ask, crouching down next to her bed.

"I don't feel well." She gives me a smile. "But it's okay, I can go to school."

She stands up, rocking slightly. She puts her hands out in front of her and waits. When she stops rocking, she walks over to her bedroom. I hear her doing her business and then the toilet flushing and her washing her hands. She walks back in and goes to her dresser.

"Wait." I walk over to her and put my hand on her forehead. She's burning up. "I'll be right back, okay? You go sit down."

She walks to her bed and sits down. I walk out of her room and downstairs. Caroline is eating breakfast already.

"Where Lucy?" She asks.

"She's upstairs." I say, and then I walk into Odeletta and I's bedroom.

We have an arrangement. She gets up at five thirty with Noemie and Raylen and I get up at seven with Caroline and Lucy, and then I go back to sleep once they're on the bus, and then I get up again at eight forty five with Odeletta and we get Noah to school.

Odeletta is sleeping sounding in bed when I walk in, spooning the blankets as she lies on her right side. Her brown hair is falling into her face and my heart clenching for having to disturb her. I sit down on my side of the bed and lean down, placing a soft kiss on her temple. I shake her left shoulder gently, careful not to disturb the bullet injury. She lets out a soft moan and stirs slightly, her left hand reaching out for something, when she hits my thigh, she rests her palm on it and sighs in her sleep.

I bite my lip. I can't do it. She's too precious.

I lean down and kiss her temple again, and then I slide out of bed and wander into the bathroom. I dig around the counter cabinets for that stupid machine.

"Where the hell does she keep that thing?" I mutter. I turn around to go wake her up and ask, but then I pause.

The medicine cabinet. Duh.

I rip it open and see the blue thermometer sitting on the shelf. I pick it up and walk out of the bathroom, through the bedroom. Odeletta is still sleeping, her left hand resting on the mattress in the spot my thigh was just in. I go back upstairs to Lucy's room, and she's laying down in bed, cuddling her baby blanket.

The caseworker told us the blanket was what he was found wrapped in. She sleeps with it every night.

I walk over to her.

"Open your mouth and lift up your tongue." I say. She obliges, and I put the metal-tipped thermometer in her mouth and she closes it. I press the button and wait.

We used to have that really nice one that you just drag across your forehead, but when Noah was eight he didn't want to go to school so he snuck into our bedroom when we were sleeping and stole the hairdryer. He took it upstairs and put it on his forehead and his whole face until it was all red, and then he put some of Odeletta contact solution in his eyes so they were watery. When I went to see if he was up and getting ready, he was still in bed, claiming he wasn't feeling well.

The forehead thermometer read 104.8 and Odeletta almost had a heart attack and took him to the hospital. I calmed her down though, and she called the doctor. She walked into his bathroom to check if the shower was wet and found her hairdryer still sitting on the sink. When she touched it, it was warm. The grabbed it and confronted him and he told her that he didn't feel like going to school.

She dropped him off, he was late, and then she went to Walgreens and bought the kind that goes under your tongue instead.

Lucy doesn't look like she's faking it though. When the machine starts to beep, I pull it out of her mouth and look at it.

103.8

I take a deep breath and look at Lucy. Her nose is running. She coughs and it doesn't sound wet. It's a dry cough.

"Does your throat hurts?" I ask.

"Yes." She swallows.

I pull my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and turn on the flashlight.

She opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue.

Her tonsils are red and swollen.

Her fever is so high though.

"You're not going to school today." I tell her. "You lay down baby, I'll be back, okay?"

She just nods and cuddles back into her blankets, shivering.

"Daddy, we're going to be late." Caroline says, standing in the living room. "Where is Lucy?"

"She's upstairs." I say again. I walk back into the bedroom and walk over to my wife.

"Odeletta." I say, shaking her hard enough to rouse her. She stirs slightly and then opens her eyes, peeking at me.

"What's wrong?" She mumbles, her eyes rounding in on the thermometer in my hands. I show it to her and her forehead creases. "Who's is that?" She asks, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Lucy's." I say. "Her nose is running, her throat is red and swollen and her cough is dry. I think she has the flu. I have to take Caroline to the bus, but Lucy-"

"I'll call the doctor." She says, already getting out of bed. She grabs her cell phone and walks out of the room. I follow her. She goes straight upstairs.

"What's going on?" Caroline asks.

"Lucy is sick." I say. "Come on kid, you have to get to the bus."

"Lucy sweetie, go put on your shoes and coat, okay? You can wear your pajamas."

"Where are we going?" She whines, pulling the blanket further up to her chin.

It's already around noon and I've been giving her broth and medicine, trying to help her get through the time before her doctors appointment. All four kids are at school and Nathan left for work after I told him a million times I would be okay to handle Lucy by myself.

There was one time a few years ago when all four kids were sick along with Nathan. I was running around like a madwomen, shoving them into baths to break fevers, forcing them to drink hot tea and take their medicine on time.

When they were all healed, I came down with it too, and they all helped Nathan take care of me.

If I could handle five sick people at once, I can handle my daughter.

"We're going to the doctor." I say.

"Are they going to give me a shock?" She shrieks. She starts crying.

"I don't know sweetie." I say. "But you have to go get your shoes on, okay?"

"Okay." She grumbles reluctantly.

She walks out, upstairs.

I walk into the bedroom, and then to the bathroom. I brush my hair and teeth and roll on deodorant, and then I hear the front door slam. I walk into the bedroom and go to my closet.

A few seconds later, Gabe comes sauntering into the bedroom, swinging his keys around on his index finger.

Since I can't drive, Nathan promised me he would find somebody that would drive Lucy and I to the doctor and stay with me.

"You do not have work?" I ask, digging through my dresser.

"Nope." He says. I grab black skinny jeans, black boots, a white knit sweater, a beige pushup bra, and my leather jacket, slipping into the bathroom.

I dress in my clothes and brush my hair again, and then I put on a bit of makeup and walk back into the bedroom. Gabe is laying on my bed.

"I hear Annalise smuggled you into the basement of Mason's house and lied to Mason." He says matter-of-factly.

"She didn't lie to Mason." I say.

"She did, because he asked what she was doing and she said nothing, when really, she was talking to you."

I narrow my eyes.

"Who told you that?"

He just looks at me and cringes.

"Your husband."

I huff and walk over to the dresser. I get a pair of black socks and plop down next to Gabe on my bed, pulling them on.

"Don't be mad at Nathan." He says. "You did go to Annalise."

I don't respond as I zip up my boots.

"Are you mad?" He asks.

I sigh slowly and shake my head.

"No, I'm just mad at the world lately. Every time things get great, they get fucked up."

"How so?" He asks.

"We were good after Nathan was shot, happy, even. We moved on and started raising kids. And then my house gets shot up and I get shot and all my kids see me bleeding out. Then it got better, you know? We got Lucy. But I was struggling mentally. I finally jumped a whole book ahead mentally from my past, and that one skinny tiny ass bullet ripped me back to chapter one of book one, and I'm struggling to not be a mess."

He's quiet for a minute.

"Maybe you need to go back to therapy."

"I'm going to, I just-"

I hear a loud crash upstairs, something way to loud for a six year old to make, and then screaming. Gabe and I are both on our feet, me in front of him. We sprint all the way up the stairs. When we reach the top, the screaming stops. I rush into Lucy's room and see her laying on the floor with her bookcase on top of her tiny body.

She's still, completely still.

The edge of the bookcase is on her head, and it looks like she's crying-

"Is she crying blood?" I choke.