리틀팍스

 My name is Mikhaila Mylnowski, but everyone, well, everyone except my dad, calls me Mia. Dad used to call me 'my Mikhaila' in his soft, gentle voice. If I was angry, I would run to Dad and he'd comfort me gently, as if soothing a baby. If I had some good news, I'd run to him and share the good news in an excited voice. Dad would smile and pat me on the back. I loved it when he did that. It made me feel comfortable and made me smile.

 Now I don't have him to do that for me.

 And it's all my fault.

 See, Dad was a doctor, and he owned a hospital in the neighborhood. The hospital was a ten-minute-walk distance from where I lived, and if I ran, I would arrive there in five minutes or so. Completely out of breath, I would run into the hospital and run up the stairs(because I couldn't wait for the elevator) if I had something to say to him. Even when a patient was waiting, he'd let me talk to him first.

 "What is it, my Mikhaila?" he'd ask kindly in his low, gentle voice. He'd offer me a seat and I'd sit down, and then start talking. Dad would listen carefully and give some helpful advice or say kind words when I finished. This was why I loved talking to him so much. He was a good listener and a good advisor. He was the best dad ever.

 One day I was awfully upset that I failed my math exam. Don't get it wrong, I'm a pretty good student, it was just that I didn't have time to study the previous day. The result? It was a B-minus. It was the worst score I've ever received in my entire life.

 I knew the perfect person to talk to. You predicted it- Dad. As soon as school ended, I ran to Dad's hospital. Nurse Abby, a friendly young nurse lady who Dad hired, greeted me. I waved my hand, although I wasn't in the mood, and went right to Dad's office. Dad was talking to a patient, but I didn't feel like waiting. "Dad! I have to talk to you!" I cried.

 "Not now, my Mikhaila," he said. "I'm talking to a client. You must wait." "I don't feel like waiting," I said. "This is urgent!" 

 "My Mikhaila, you must learn to wait. You can wait ten minutes." A storm of emotions whirled in my stomach. It was me who had to talk to Dad, not the stupid patient. Why didn't Dad know that?

 "I hate you!" I screamed, flinging the door open and running out of the office. "I hate you! You are the worst dad ever!" I shouted, tears in my eyes. I ran down the stairs and dashed to my house. "What happened, Sweetie?" Mom asked as I walked inside the house, crying my eyes out. "Nothing," I sniffled. I went upstairs to my bedroom, and burying my head in the sheets, I cried and cried.

 After a few minutes my phone rang. "Hello?" I said, without checking the number. "My Mikhaila-" It was Dad. I hung up. Little did I know it would be the last time Dad called me 'my Mikhaila'.

 Hours past, and it was time for supper. Dad was late that night. He usually came home in supper time. I started to eat when Mom's phone rang. "Hello?"

 "Hello, this is Johanssen Hospital. Are you Robert Mylnowski's wife?"

 "Yes, did something happen to him?" 

 "He crashed into a car by accident, and it's pretty serious. He's bleeding, and he broke a few bones. You must come to the hospital at once."

 Mom grabbed my little brother, Leonardo, and my hand and we got into her car. We rode in the silence. When we arrived at Johanssen Hospital, a nurse guided us to him. I gasped. Bandages were wrapping his entire body, and he seemed hardly breathing. I went closer, and he patted me on the back. He handed me a small package. Then silently, his hand dropped and he stopped breathing.

 I opened the package. There was the beautiful doll I've been wanting for ages. There also was a small note. Dear Mikhaila, I'm sorry. I really am. Here's the doll you wanted so much. Love, Dad. 

 Tears filled my eyes. "I'm the one who should be sorry.." I said. "Please... please don't die. I don't need the doll if you could be alive again. I won't bother you ever again. Don't die.."

 But he died.