A/N: So for some reason I prefer to write these chapters in Johns POV. I don't really know why. Please read and review. I would love some feedback. I know it's pretty messed up I killed off the baby but everything happens for a reason in this story; I'm just not going to let you know yet. :D HA. STFU. Please review.


As the weeks drug on, John and I drifted father and father apart. I was nothing but a shell. It felt as if I had no soul. My heart was like a burning ring of fire, and the fire was never going to be put out. I just got my little girl, and God had taken her away from me. Just like my mother; it seems as so…everything I love gets taken away from me!

I laid next to John in the bed; not moving and facing opposite directions…neither of us wanted to talk about it and we both didn't speak to each other. I let the tears run out of my eyes as I was still grieving. I felt as if once Isabella died she took my heart with her. I could smell the cloud of smoke come my direction as John was smoking a cigarette; my eyes watering even more. I had yet to tell my family I didn't want to talk to John about it, why I would want to talk to my family about it.

I knew he was awake, but he didn't say a word when I crawled out of bed. I made my way down the dark hallway. Everything looked differently now, I couldn't even look at pictures on the wall. I walked down the hall and stopped at Isabella's door. It was shut, and I could smell her baby powder through the cracks in the door. My eyes watered up again; trying to stop myself from crying I turned around and ran back to the bed room.

John was sound asleep by the time I got back; I grabbed a cigarette from his pack and a lighter before exiting the room into the living room. I set them both down them down on the coffee table in the living room then entered the kitchen I opened the cupboard grabbing a wine glass then grabbing the wine one of Johns friends had given to us for our wedding.

As I sat down in the living room I could feel myself slipping away, but at the same time I didn't even care. I filled my wine up before going back into the living room. I lit the cigarette and sat back on the sofa; my knees up to my chest and my eyes wet and my face sticky. I was never a big smoker or drinker…but this…this I didn't know how to handle.

"I'm sorry." I cried. I felt so much at fault here. John never said he blamed me or even hinted towards it but I couldn't help but to feel at fault.


When I woke up in the morning, I walked into the living room to find something I never expected. Savannah was passed out, sitting up, with a wine glass in her hands and a finished cigarette on the coffee table. I walked over to her, taking the glass from her hands and placing it on the table before picking her up and carrying her into the bed room. As I sat her down on the bed I could see the sadness written all over her face. I couldn't imagine what she was thinking.

With my new found friendship with Sergeant Gilbert he had granted me a few weeks leave because of the situation. Isabella's funeral was coming up soon and it was something I was not ready for. No parent should bury their child; the child is supposed to bury their parents. I almost felt as if someone at shot me right down to hell…and I was going to be there forever to rot. Was my baby really gone? Or was I just dreaming? Was this a long nightmare? My sleep schedule had gotten so messed up in the past few weeks I didn't know the difference from being asleep and awake. I knew I was awake; I just refused to believe it. I didn't want to believe that she was gone; I didn't want to go through the pain. I felt as if I had done something wrong, was this my fault? Was I not paying enough attention to what Savannah was telling me? Was I not around enough because of work? Was there something I could have done to prevent this from happening? What was going on; my head was spinning out of control.

I didn't want to accept the fact that Isabella wasn't lying in her crib right now, sleeping so sound and so innocent. I hated this, and I hated that it was tearing Savannah and I apart. I had to get rid of the nursery; I had to.

Walking in there, it was an ire feeling…almost as if I was walking into an old dusty attic. My eyes began to burn I could feel tears filling up inside. I didn't want to…not again. I grabbed her toy bin to put various items in it from the room…I tried…I couldn't…it was too hard. I wanted her here; I wanted to see my little girl again. I wanted to hold her close to me, breathe in the fresh smell of baby powder, a clean baby; my little angel, my precious diamond…

The toy bin fell to the floor as my back hit the wall; I slowly slid down until I was at a complete stop on the floor. My hands cupped my face as I began to cry into my hands. I had never cried this hard in my life, not even after I heard the news of her death. It was sinking in.

"GOD DAMN IT!" I shouted out, fidgeting my hands, I didn't want to wake up Savannah but at the same time I didn't care. I just didn't.

I stood up, leaving the room and slamming the door behind me. I could feel the anger build up inside my body and before I even knew it my fist had flown right through the dry wall.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I looked up, seeing Savannah in the door way looking at me. I felt so bad, so at fault. If I had just let her stay in Germany a little longer she would of never had Isabella so soon and she would have been healthier and not died.

"I'll fix it." I replied, my face red from tears my eyes black from fear.


And that was the most we had spoken in the past few weeks of dealing with Isabella's death.

"I'm hungry." Savannah said her voice so innocent it pierced my soul. What have I done? "I haven't eaten in days…do you want to go get food?" She asked, I hated how I couldn't say no to a face like that. I grabbed my car keys and walked over to her. My hands placing on her waist; this was as close as we had gotten too.

"What kind of food do you want darling?" I asked; my lips pressing to her forehead as much as I loved Savannah and wanted to be there for her I was glad she was asking me to leave I didn't want to be in there anymore. I didn't want to see anything of Isabella. I didn't want to FEEL anything.

"Uhm, can you pick up tacos?" She bit her lip and her eyes dropped to the floor. I sighed, stepping back and smirking at her.

"I'll be back with your tacos. While I'm gone…I suggest calling your dad…he would want to try and make it to the funeral. Call Sarah or Khole all I know is that they need to know! You're holding back on them and it's not right Savannah! It's not fair to them!" I didn't realize that I was raising my voice at her, I was so lost in my own mind I didn't even know what I was really talking about.

Her eyes turned black, her body moving backwards. I could see her jaw begin to clench up before her lips tore apart to speak the words neither of us wanted to hear but had to be said. "Well it's not fair I had to lose my baby girl!" She screamed at me slamming the door in my face. I could hear the turn of the lock, then her voice behind the door. "Fuck the tacos, I'm not hungry anymore."