You feel your eyes open, though all you can see is pitch black darkness. You try to shift your arms and legs, though your movements feel restrained. You try to scream out as the cold realization of where you are strikes you, but even your shrieks were suppressed to such a fine point that you couldn't even hear your own fearful shouts begin before dying in your throat. You thrash around blindly in the small dark hole, feeling the familiar burn of rough carpet digging into your skin as you flail. Your mind and thoughts scramble in panic, your distress split between your own safety and the safety of your family and friends. Where were your daughters? Your parents?  Did she find them? Did she kill them? What about your friends? Would she go as far as to kill them too? Greg, Joseph, Ruby, Rob; did she-  You awake in a cold sweat, your face pressed down against the cold, moist spot on your pillow. You lift yourself up off of your stomach, arms shaking and lungs taking deep, shuddering breaths as you recollect yourself in reality. You flip onto your back and stare up at the ceiling, illuminated only ever so slightly by the cracks in the heavy curtains on the window. The dryness in your throat pairs terribly with the light sensation in both your lungs and sides, making you feel all the more faint as you lay in your cold bed. It's been a long while since you accidentally slept on your front, though like the last time, this nightmare will keep you adamant avoiding such a position. This one was worse than the last; you at least had the gift of being in your own home alone in your last nightmare. You hate imagining the thought of her finding your family, though friends was a new aspect of unexplored terrors for you. As much as you hate to recollect what happened in your dream, you can remember some of the people you had thought of. Greg, Joseph, Bob; you haven't even talked to them for the past seven years. You doubt they even remember you now, though you still hold them in fond memory for the brief time you knew them in college. If anything, the thought of them being friends nearly forgotten was what helped break you from your nightmare.  Ruby, however, was something different. You had only just recently talked to her again just a few days ago, all by a huge coincidence. She seemed intent on catching up with you earlier in the week, though you haven't yet decided to meet up with her. You wonder if it's even in your best interest to try and talk to her. You already very much aware of the near crippling wave of anxiety that washes and beats against you whenever you speak and get close to a woman, anthros making it all the worse, but the nightmare kindled a new fear in you. What if she were to find her? You immediately try to fight away the many "what if's" begging to dance through your tired mind, though the question still stands. You quietly lift yourself out of bed and walk towards the bathroom. You don't hear the ruckus and noise of your daughters awake and enjoying their Sunday as you walk down the hallway, most likely explaining the lack of her approach in your dream. As you near the bathroom, you see that the light is on and the door ajar, though you freeze in place as a strong acrid smell hits your nose. You feel your body tense up painfully, the long-gone sores across your body reappearing as phantom-like reminders at the familiar scent. Though it’s been years, you can still perfectly picture that bedroom and the state your wracked body was put into by her.  However, you force yourself forward towards the bathroom, fighting against the urges to back away to investigate. As you look into the bright bathroom, you dread melts into concern as you see your tired and miserable daughter Lisa hanging her head over a vomit stained toilet. Several spots of puke had missed the bowl, some staining the rim and floor, though at the very least she had gotten none on herself. “Lisa?” you softly speak, causing her to slowly shift her attention from the toilet to look up at you with tired, tearful eyes. She doesn’t respond, and you can see her labored breathing as she waits over the toilet for another surge. “Are you... OK now? Do you still feel like you’re going to throw up?” you ask.  After a few quiet, tense seconds, she gags for a brief second and responds in a hoarse voice, “I don’t know.” Every fiber of your being feels sorry for her just by looking at her face.  “OK, sweetie. I’m... going to go get you some water. When you feel like you’re... done, wash your hands and face and go back to bed.”  “OK....” she responds, turning back to look at the ick-filled toilet. You hesitantly leave the bathroom and head towards her bedroom. Thankfully, you don’t see any spots or trails down to their room, doubly so when you notice the same lack of bile around or on her bed. You quietly leave your three sleeping daughters be as you leave the bedroom to fetch a tall cup of water for Lisa, but not before making a short detour to the pantry to grab the long unused plastic bucket. After filling the cup up, you head back to the kids’ bedroom to see Lisa quietly shambling towards her bed. You set the cup of water and bucket beside her bed, then squat down to lift her up.  “Alright, honey,” you coo as you set her down on the bed. You hand the water to her and ask “Can you drink this cup?” She accepts it and begins to drink it in spaced out, small gulps. “I have a bucket here,” you whisper as you tap the side of the bucket with your finger, “Just in case you have to throw up again. OK?”  She quietly nods as she finishes the cup of water. You take the cup and put it aside to put the covers back over her, then you press the back of your hand against her forehead. You can feel a feverish heat begin to develop, though you don’t know for sure if it’s a virus or food poisoning. You can’t recall anything out of the ordinary with yesterday’s dinner and lunch, though you decide it’s better to be safe than sorry. “Get some rest. I’ll make sure to check on you, but tell me if you don’t feel good and... I’ll try to help.”  “OK....” she quietly answers.  As you grab the cup and get up, you hear another voice speak from the bed directly behind you.   “Dad?”  You turn around, the dim light revealing your pale-white furred daughter Sally sitting up in bed. Your mind comes to a blank as you try to think of what to say, all before your train of thought derails spectacularly as she suddenly begins to puke all over herself and her covers.  -  You drop one more pod beside the sheets and set the washing machine on its second run. You wonder if you should set it for one more run after this or if it would be too much; though it is always better to be safe than sorry. You close the door and look out into the living room, spotting Sally’s white ears poke out past the end of the couch. As you approach her, you feel a slight relief at seeing the empty trash can you set out for her a few hours ago. You reach down and rub at the top of her head, briefly breaking her concentration from the TV to look up in your direction. She rests her head back against her pillow as you withdraw your hand, her sleepy gaze focusing back on the barrage of colors and visual noise that your kids call a cartoon. You personally can’t stand the noise, especially on work days, but you can’t will yourself to have them change the channel; not on a weekend, especially with two of your daughters being sick.  You can see Amanda and Megan laying on the floor beside each other staring up at the TV, both a fair distance away from Sally at your discretion. You also gave warning to leave Lisa be, still sound asleep in her bed while holding her Mr. Puppy toy close. Hopefully, you can make it through this without anyone else catching the bug, though you’re more worried about how you’re going to feed the four and get Meg and Amy to school tomorrow. Guides online recommend plain foods like crackers, toast and the like, though you doubt you’re going to get any of the four to eat it for a second time later tonight. You eye the pantry door in the hallway, wondering if you have any chicken soup cans left to make for dinner. You give one more brief brush through Sally’s hair with your hand before checking the pantry, though you’re disappointed to find just a few cans decorating the otherwise empty shelves. You have just enough to feed Sally and Lisa, maybe yourself or another kid, but that still leaves some out. You grab the cans and give one last scan in the pantry for anything at all to use, though your lack of prep during grocery shopping has finally caught up to you.  You close the pantry door with a defeated sigh; you’re going to have to go shopping tomorrow, on a work day no less. You can’t go today without taking all of your daughters and you can’t risk anyone else getting sick. You briefly consider calling and asking your parents to help watch them, though you already feel like enough of a burden for all of the help they’ve given you with raising your daughters. Though you doubt they’d reject it, you don’t want this to be the straw that broke the camel’s back and you don’t want to look incompetent. Your eye wanders to your little work area in the living room where your phone and laptop sit charging.   ‘Could just order pizza for the two....’ you ponder, looking back to the three watching TV. You approach the desk and set aside the cans of soup, then you sit down and turn on your laptop to look for pizza places close by. After a few minutes of deciding and scanning through the website, you turn back to look at your daughters and say, “Hey, Amy? Meg?”  Their lop ears lift slightly as the two turn their heads to look at you. “Yeah?” Amanda asks, lifting herself up to a stand with her sister following suit. You quietly motion for them to come to you, not wanting to bother Sally and disappoint her with the news that she and Lisa will have to settle with eating chicken soup for tonight. Though, you suppose you will have to disappoint them anyway come time for dinner. ‘Maybe should make it up to them once they’re better,’ you quickly think. You break away from your train of thought as Megan and Amanda approach you.  “Alright, so....” you quietly begin, “We’re going to have pizza for dinner tonight, but-”  “YEAH!” Amanda whoops, causing both you and Megan to flinch at her sudden cry of glee.  “But... Lisa and Sally can’t have any.”  “Why?” Megan speaks up.  “Because they’re sick, honey. They need something easy to eat, so I’ll be making soup for them.”  “So they won’t have pizza?” she asks with a hint of sadness in her tone.  “They can have pizza when they’re feeling better. Otherwise, it could make them more sick.”  “Oh... OK.”  “Well... Um....” Amanda says, looking down at the floor as she trails off. She looks back up to you as she figures out what to say, “We can wait! Then we can all have peeza!”  “That’s... very sweet of you, but we can all go out for pizza once they’re better.”  “Can I save some peeza in the fridge for them?”  “... Sure, sweetie. Anyway, look: I want you and Megan to pick a pizza you both want.” You pick up Megan from under the arms and bring her to sit on your lap, then you do the same with Amanda so they both can look at the laptop without having to stand on their tiptoes.  “What’s that?” Megan asks as she touches the laptop screen with her finger. Your laptop was a hand-me-down from your father, another item on the lengthy list of things you feel guilty about. With another set of taps and added smudges on the touchscreen, you manage to close a few windows and work related programs. You open a new window to order pizza in, not wanting to lose countless tabs worth of GitHub pages and documentation you were skimming to try and make some headway on one of the numerous projects that occupy your workday.  "Just work things, sweetie," you mumble as you re-navigate to the pizza page. “Go ahead and figure out what you both would want.”  Your two daughters stare at the computer screen with wide eyes at the numerous pictures of pizza. “Pepperoni is good and... sausage and... pineapple?” Megan reads out.  “Eww!” Amanda giggles. “Fruit doesn’t go on peeza!”  “Maybe it’s good... I like fruits and-”  “Nooo! It’s gross and- Wait, Dad! Dad! What’s supreme?” Amanda asks as she points at the picture. “Is it good?”  You stop your slow scrolling to click on the pizza, causing the pizza picture to enlarge with a list of ingredients and cost. “It’s got olives, onions and peppers on it. You two haven’t had something like this before. Are you sure you’ll like it?”  “Yeah!” Amanda answers with Megan giving a brief nod.  You quietly sigh and look at the price. It isn’t that much more expensive than a sausage and pepperoni pizza, and the two can just pick off the toppings that they most likely won’t like. Plus at the very least, you would prefer it over plain meat and cheese pizza. “Alright,” you answer as you add it to the cart. Before you can begin to pay, Amanda bounces on your leg and asks, “And can we get pop, too?”  As cute as it is, you still aren’t sure why your mother told her to call soda that; it near always catches you off-guard whenever she asks for it. “No, we’re drinking water.”  “Aww....” she pouts, both her and Megan hopping off your leg to continue watching TV. Thankfully, they both left before either of them could see the desert advertisements and begin begging you for something else. The last thing you want to do is to give your daughters sugar, especially with Lisa and Sally as they are now. You plug in the payment info and confirm the order for delivery. You hate how pricey things get with delivery, but it’s either that or taking them all out to pick it up. Speaking of taking them all, you still need to figure out what to do about school tomorrow. You stand up with a groan, close your laptop, and grab your phone and the two cans of soup to bring into the kitchen.  “Might as well get started on it now....” you mutter under your breath. As you fetch the pot to start up the soup, your eye keeps wandering and resting on your phone at the counter. You still don’t want to come down to begging your parents for help, you don’t have any friends you can call and ask for help, and you don’t know your neighbors enough at all to ask them. However, as you pull the top off of the can, one person does come to mind: Ruby. You almost drop the idea immediately at the realization that you don’t have her number, though your mind is quick to remind you that you can very easily find her number in the girl’s agendas. Nervousness eats away at your insides as you try to mentally play out calling her and asking for this favor. She probably isn’t even close by; maybe she takes a long commute to get to the school. Besides, why would she say yes? Just because she knew you from your brief time in college doesn’t mean she’ll help you with this sort of thing. You grunt in dissatisfaction and redouble your focus on making dinner for Lisa and Sally; hopefully you can figure out something better by the time everything’s ready.  As you open the last can and pour it with the rest, your mind quickly wanders back to finding a solution. You really don’t know anybody at all that can help. By all means, she’s the only friend you have as far as you can remember. Everyone else you knew is long gone and living their own lives; they probably don’t even remember ever talking to you. It's a surreal feeling realizing that it's just been six years since you've seen them. You never expected anything like this when you left, and you certainly doubt any of your friends have either. You never thought you'd be a father. You never asked or wanted-  No. You're not going to think about this now. You're not ever going to think about this. You clench your jaw and turn on the stove top. You can't recall when exactly it will be fully prepped, but you suppose you'll be able to tell once steam starts rising or when it feels warm enough. You look at the back of the can again. The time isn't very helpful, what with however long the stove will take to warm up, so you don't think you can just leave it sitting there or put it on a timer. Though, you could just make things easier and just use the microwave, but you're pretty sure heating it up on the stove makes it taste better. Something about absorbing hydration from the food or whatever that microwaves do. You resume watching the cold pot of soup, releasing a long sigh that you didn't realize you were holding.  In your fervor to avoid any of the thoughts haunting your brain, if not just for a short while, you look around the kitchen to pass the time. The table is still decorated in a light mess, the bowls of leftover cereal from your daughters breakfast still there from this morning. While a part of you feels irritated to have to pick up more of your children's mess, you know better than to get onto them about it, especially now when two of them are as sick as they are. You dump the bits of sugary cereal and milk into the sink before putting the bowls inside the dish washer. You aren't sure if they're too young to do this now, but you begin to wonder when you should introduce chores and work for the daughters to do. Maybe it will help cut down on the daily monotony of picking up after whatever the four leave around the house. Toys gifted from your mother often times littering the floors of their bedroom and the living room, the occasional plastic cup or plate here and there, and the odd food wrapper left around wherever they decided to snack and play.  You need to be more assertive and have the four try to keep things more clean, but you often find yourself leaving them to their own devices. Usually you only ever start doing cleanup after they're put to bed or carried off to bed after collapsing somewhere to sleep. Maybe you need to stop being so tired and try to shape yourself and your daughters up before complacency sets. Maybe you're worrying too much about this and should wait until they're older before getting onto them about this. You aren't sure what's the better decision to take with most problems or questions of raising the four anymore. You look at the pot on the stove. No sign of change yet, though you can see the faint glow of red from beneath the pot. "It probably won't be too long now," you mutter under your breath. You fetch two bowls and fill two cups with water. As you get two spoons, you realize you aren't sure how to check if the soup is warm or not. While you always resorted to sticking your finger in a bowl of ramen to check the heat, you're pretty sure you can't do the same thing here. Besides, you'd hate to see any of your daughters follow after you and do things as stupid as that just because you did them yourself. You grab a spoon and get a small amount of soup. With a quick sip, you're glad to know that it's warm, but not hot. You turn the stove top off and start filling the bowls.  Afterwards, you get a bowl and cup and bring it to the living room. You set the two on the small end table set in front of Sally, who eyes it quietly from her spot on the couch. You ruffle her hair one more time in passing before getting Lisa's dinner. As with her sister, you set it aside on the dresser and replace the now empty cup you left there earlier. She's awake, though you aren't sure if she just now woke up with how sleepy her eyes look or if she's feeling that terrible. "Doing OK? You feeling better?" you ask.  She murmurs out a quiet agreement before slowly rising up. "A little bit..."  "OK... Well, I got some chicken soup for you and Sally. It should be warm, but don't eat it if you still don't feel good, alright?"  "OK...." she mumbles as she rubs at one eye with the palm of her hand.  You give her a small smile and leave for the living room, content on collapsing on the work-chair and waiting for the pizza to arrive.  As you enter the living room, you see Sally trying and failing to lift the spoon and bring it to her mouth. Her arm shakes, sending half of the liquid back into the bowl, where she then dips the spoon back into the bowl to try again. "Here, sweetie," you say as you stop her from her second failed attempt. You gently take the spoon from her and begin to slowly feed her the soup spoonful by spoonful. As you reach what you think to be half of the bowl, you're interrupted by the sound of the doorbell and Amanda's frenzied cheering.  "Peeza's here! Peeza's here! Peeza's here!"  You grunt in annoyance and put the spoon back into the bowl. "Sorry, I'll be back in a bit. Go ahead and lie down for now," you apologize as you rise up from your seat.  "I can't have pizza?" you hear Sally faintly ask as she slowly reclines onto her side.  You breathe out through your nose in a sigh as you adopt a soft tone of voice. "No, sweetie, you're too sick to eat it." She doesn't respond, but you can see her eyes trail from you down to the carpet, her silent disappointment obvious. "Look, we'll... get pizza once you and Lisa are better. I'll let you both choose something." Once again, she doesn't respond, but you can't tell if that made things better or not for her. You decide not to waste any more time guessing what would make her feel better and instead go answer the door. You preemptively pull out your wallet, but freeze before unlocking the deadbolt. While a small part of you knows that it could in no way happen, you still warily look through the peephole just to make absolutely certain.  You let out your breath in relief as you see a young human man standing outside with a black cap adorned with a pizza logo and a box in his hands. You unlock the door and open it. After briefly exchanging money and a tip, you thank him and bring the pizza inside. Amanda and Megan quickly run up to your size, both eager for their dinner. You put the box on top of the kitchen table and fetch your daughters two plates and cups of water. Amanda takes no time to wait and opens up the box to look at the pizza.  "What are those black things?" she asks as she pokes said topping with her finger.  "Black olives," you respond simply.  You give each daughter a slice and leave them to eat while you resume helping Sally with her dinner. As you take a seat back down beside her, she rises back up. You quietly resume feeding her, breaking the silence by saying "Hey... I can probably put some pizza in the fridge for you and Lisa. Would that make things better?"  "Uh huh," she answers before taking another spoonful of soup.  As you near emptying the bowl, you can faintly hear Amanda past the noise of the TV. "Euugh... I don't like it."  As you finish with the bowl, you put the spoon back and come back up to a stand. Sally takes a small drink of water and lays back down in the couch. "What does she not like?"  "Probably the black olives and peppers. You can just take them off if you don't like them either. But that's for when you're better."  She doesn't respond, though you think she's accepted your explanation. You hope. You leave her to drop off her bowl in the dish washer. You see that Amanda's plate is well decorated in picked off pieces and parts of the supreme pizza, with Megan's close to the same.  The two continue to eat their slices in silence, though you can tell that Amanda was really expecting something more as she slowly eats. You doubt the other two will like it any more than they do, but at least you're fine with it. You take two slices quietly eat at the table with Megan and Amanda. As you finish your second slice, both are done with their dinners and begin to bound off for the living room, only stopping for a moment as you remind them to wash their hands. They both head to the bathroom, no doubt just to quickly wet their hands and call it a done job, though you're too tired to really make sure at the moment. As you begin put the plates up, the problem of getting Megan and Amanda to school starts to creep back into your mind. You still don't know what to do; maybe Ruby is your only good option. You still feel on edge even thinking about the idea, but you hate the thought of leaving them on their own at a bus stop more. Maybe paying her gas money could make things OK, though you're unsure if that would be rude or not.  Again, you've only just met her again recently. You try to remember what she was like in college, though with what few details you recall it only makes you further unsure. You loosely remember that she helped you with some sort of assignment and was nice enough to talk to, but that was it. Besides, it's been six years since then. You run your hand through your hair and sigh. Worrying and not doing anything won't make things happen. You reluctantly take your phone and leave the kitchen to fetch one of your daughter's agendas. After finding it, you thumb through the pages until you find what you're looking for: Ruby's contact info. You plug the numbers in one by one, double checking to make sure you have it right. Your thumb hovers over the call button in hesitation for a brief moment, but you swallow your anxiety and press down. You bring the phone up to your ear.  "Hello?"  "Hi, it's, uh... Me, David."  "Oh, hey. Did you need to talk about something?"  "Yeah, I... I'm sorry, but I need to ask for help. I need someone to... come by and bring Megan and Amanda to school. Lisa and Sally are sick and I can't bring them all together and risk more getting sick. My, ah... friends and family are all busy. If I had someone else to ask, I would, because I really don't want to trouble you with this."  "Yeah, I can probably pick them up on the way to school. How far are you from there?"  "I'm... about ten minutes drive away. I'm at 7488 Northcrest Avenue."  "Shouldn't be a problem then, I'm usually have to get to school early to set up. So long as they don't mind getting up a bit earlier I should be able to swing by.”  "Yeah, I... can get them up early. What time do you think you'll arrive?"  "Around six o' clock, probably."  "OK, good, thank you," you answer as you run your hand through your hair in relief. "I can cover the gas money for picking them up."  “Ah, don't worry about it. They've been great to have in the classroom so I'm happy to pick them up."  "Are you sure? I really don't want you to have to go out of your way for this."  "Nah, nah, it's all fine. Wouldn't want them to miss out on anything. So, is one of 'em sick with something?"  You lean out the kitchen door to look at the backside of couch, seeing the faint hint of Sally's lop ears poking out of the side. "Yeah, Sally and Lisa came down with a stomach bug. I didn't want to have to bring everyone along in the car to drop Megan and Amanda off at school."  "Aw, sorry to hear. Tell them I hope they're feeling better soon and to not worry about homework."  "Yeah, I will," you smile, the uneasiness in your stomach finally beginning to leave you.  "Is it, uh... real bad?"  "I think so, poor girls started vomiting early this morning, though they haven't started again. Right now they're both not feeling good and trying to rest."  "My mum always used to give me and my siblings ginger ale when we weren't doing so hot, but make sure to give them small sips and not a whole glass."  "I... will try to keep that in mind. I have to go out tomorrow for groceries anyway." There’s a quiet pause. You’re unsure if you should say your goodbyes and hang up, before she asks you a question.  "So, do you work too?"  "What?"  "Do you work and watch them too?"  "Y-Yeah, I, uh... Work from home."  "Sounds nice not having to commute every day, traffic can be a bit of a pain. I imagine they're pretty happy having you around at home all the time too."  "Yeah, I guess. I, uh, don't really like having them out of my sight, y'know?"  "Aw, that's cute. Well, I'll swing by in the morning for them then, will probably ring you in the morning to let you know when I'm on my way."  "Great. Again, thank you so much. This really is a giant help. Would it be OK of this was for a few days? I don't know how soon they'll be good for school."  "It's not a problem, they're a pleasure to have in the classroom. I might have to check if I'll be able to Thursday, but every other day of the week should be fine."  "Thank you. This really is a big help. I... might be able to get someone else to drive them Thursday if you can't do it." Anxiety rushes back through you as realization strikes you. "Shhh- Crap, I forgot, I'm sorry, but can you drop them off too?"  "Might have to drop them off a bit later than normal, but if that's alright with you then I don't mind doing that."  "No, no, that's... that's fine. I trust that you'll bring them back safely. Again, I can give you gas money for doing this."  "Nah, it's all good. Tell Sally and Lisa I hope they get better, and I hope to see them back in class soon."  You smile slightly. "I will. Thank you. You have a good night."  "You too. I'll be there around at 6 or so."  "Great. Bye."  "Goodbye."  You end the call and place your phone down on the table. Your head feels significantly better now knowing that you have that one problem sorted out. You realize you still haven't finished feeding Sally and quickly turn to thankfully find her resting peacefully against the couch, head and lop ears still resting against the armrest. You walk around the ride of the couch and rub her ear slightly to get her attention. "You still feel like eating, sweetie?"  She responds with a slight nod and you can see her take a quick breath as she tries to sit up again. You lean down and help her get into a comfortable position before taking a seat on the couch yourself. You lean forward and pick up the bowl of soup, half wondering if you should throw it back on the stove again for fear it's gotten too cold for her to enjoy. "Tell me if this is too cold for you," you say as you offer her a spoon of the now lukewarm soup. Thankfully, she didn’t raise a fuss as she ate the rest of the soup, finally finishing it all with one last spoonful. As you put the spoon into the now empty bowl, she rests back into the couch and quietly mutters, “Thank you, Dad.” You rub the top of her head one last time while giving her a comforting smile, then you stand up to put the bowl and spoon away. Before you could enter the kitchen, Megan approaches you and pulls at the hem of your shirt to get your attention.  “Dad? When can Sally have pizza?” she asks.  “I already told you, sweetie. She can have pizza when she’s no longer sick. Lisa too.”  “When she gets better?”  “Yes, when she gets better,” you tiredly repeat as you try to enter the kitchen, making sure not to make your slight annoyance known and hurt her feelings.  “Lisa says she’s feeling better,” she responds as she follows behind you.  You chuckle briefly and softly. “She still can’t have pizza yet, Megan. She’s still sick.” However, you begin to feel a slight dread as you come to realize that she hasn’t answered back with a “Oh” or “OK”. You turn your head back to look at her, the anxiety amplifying as you see her wide eyed expression of shock and fear.  “What would happen if she ate some?”  You don’t answer as you quickly abandon the bowl and spoon into the sink. However, you could tell it was already too late before you could even leave the kitchen, just from the sound of poor Lisa sounding out from the bedroom. You quickly hurry to her, hoping that she at least made good use of the bucket.  -  With the unfortunately eventful night behind you, the following morning was a welcome, peaceful change with Lisa and Sally still asleep in bed. You almost feel energized knowing that all you have to handle at the moment are the non-sick daughters, and in a few moments for a good portion of the day, just the two in bed. Megan and Amanda kept quiet as they prepped early for school and ate toast for breakfast, leaving you with several moments to breathe and think without one of your daughters clamoring for your attention. As the two finish up their breakfast, you check the time on your phone and see it’s close to when Ruby promised to be here.  “Alright, so... I won’t be driving you both to school today because of Lisa and Sally, so-”  “We get to stay at home?!” Amanda asks ecstatically.  “No... No. Now, I can’t risk getting you both sick, so Ms. Ruby promised to come pick you both up and bring you to school. That’s why I wanted you both up earlier.” They both remain silent, though you could tell their disappointment was palpable. You quickly try to turn the mood in the room around. “Hey, I, uh... bet that Ms. Ruby will let you both play earlier when you both get to the classroom. Maybe even read a quick story, or let you both draw, or...”  “I wanna draw,” Megan speaks up, her ears perking up slightly at the mention.  “Well, I think she’ll let you. Maybe if you ask, she could draw with you?”  She smiles, though Amanda still looks disappointed. “And, uh... Maybe she’ll let you play more after class, Mandy.” Similarly to Megan, Amanda’s ears twitch as you mention her name, and thankfully your persuasion worked as a smile begins to grow. Just as soon as you were about to tell them to be ready, you hear a knock on the door. You leave the kitchen and approach the front door, taking a brief moment to unlock the deadbolt before opening it.  You leave the kitchen and approach the front door, taking a brief moment to unlock the deadbolt before opening it and revealing the short kangaroo woman. You’re a little surprised, as her usual teacher attire is replaced with a hoodie and sweatpants, her hair was let down, and you think she looks a bit tired, but not from a lack of sleep. "Good morning," she says, looking up with a small smile on her face. "The girls ready to get going?"  "Just about, I think," you reply, looking back to see no sign of your two daughters. "Amanda, Megan, Ms. Ruby is here!"  "If they're still getting ready I can wait. We'll probably be early anyways," she says, bringing one hand up to brush back a strand of hair.   "I... think they just wanted to say bye to their sisters first," you say, briefly smiling at the thought. "Thanks again for agreeing to do this, by the way."  "Don't worry about it, mate, I don't mind picking them up so they can make it to class. How are the sick little ones doing?"  "They're feeling a little better from what they've told me, though last night Lisa... Well, anyway, they’re sleeping right now."  "It's good that they're getting better, wouldn't want them to miss too much class. Oh, and don't worry about the homework or classwork, I'll do my best to catch them up when they're recovered."  “Thank you....” you respond, looking past her to see an old car with rough paint parked alone in the street, with what you think is a human in the drivers seat. You’d ask if he was a friend of hers, though you wouldn’t want to pry. Thankfully, before the silence could settle in fully, your daughters emerge from the hallway and approach you from behind.  “Hey there! You two ready to go?” Ruby asks, lowering herself ever so slightly as she adopts a small, reassuring smile.  “Yeah....” Megan shyly answers as she walks out from behind you. Amanda, surprisingly, stays quiet as she follows Megan outside.  "Can... Can we play before school starts?" Megan asks as she fumbles and tugs at her ear in her hand.  "So long as you don't tell the other kids," Ruby says, smiling as she takes each of them by the hand. Amanda quickly begins to mirror Ruby’s smile at the news with Megan soon to follow. Ruby looks back up to you and says, “I’ll bring them back around 3:30 or so and I’ll call if something happens.” Amanda waves her free hand despite being just a few feet away as she says goodbye, and Megan softly says goodbye not soon after. Ruby gives you a curt nod and a small smile, then begins to direct your two daughters to her or her friend’s car. You give one last wave to your daughters as they get into the car. After a few moments, the car starts up and soon drives out of sight.  You let out a long, relieved sigh as you go back inside the house. A part of you hopes that the two will have a good day despite being at school longer than usual, but you know it’s something they’ll just have to get used to until their sisters get better. On the thought of Lisa and Sally, you take a brief moment to look into their bedrooms, seeing that they were both still asleep. You decide to leave them be, the thought of turning into bed yourself coming to mind. You push it aside as you enter the kitchen and try to memorize what exactly you’ll need from the grocery store.  After several minutes of checking and logging things down into your phone to bring up later, you put your phone away and collapse into your working chair in the living room.  While you still feel a slight relief at only having to handle two daughters for a time, the thought of having to work still clouds your optimism. You still have a bit of time until you have to get started, but you aren’t sure how to spend that time. There isn’t anything on TV that you want to watch, with the only notable exception being the news. However, you’ve long since forced yourself to stop watching the news, as far back as when your girls couldn’t even walk on their feet yet. You used to watch it in the hopes of finally seeing some sort of news report or story about... her, being arrested; but it did little to calm your nerves when every report fails to mention such. There was also another thing that only further afflicted your nervous mind due to the constant slow build up of dread: news of children. Deaths, kidnappings, near fatal injuries, abuse, murders... It was all too much.  You try to distance yourself from the depressing thoughts by focusing on other options. You had nothing to keep your interest on the internet, and what few games you’ve allowed your daughters to install on your phone to play with won’t keep your attention either. With nothing else to do, you decide to do what you’ve briefly thought of before: sleep. You set an alarm on your phone and try to relax into the chair. You can already feel the sore spots along your body, but you know that if you were to relocate yourself to your bed that you’d no doubt oversleep. With one more slow sigh, you crane your head back and close your eyes, hoping to make use of what little time you have to rest.  -  “Dad? Can we have that?” Lisa asks quietly as she points a brown furred finger out at the shelves.  You try to follow her finger, the item she wants made clear to you by the large cookie decal on the plastic wrap. “Alright, sweetie,” you respond as you put a box of the junk food in with the rest of the groceries. You were typically more stern on allowing sweets, hoping to manage them to brief amounts, but you decided their illness would be an exception for now. You still want to avoid the sugar rushes they would get, much like the ones they have whenever your mother decides to spoil the four when they’re over. For now, you’re going to allow the two to pick out some sweets they want, as the 12 pack of soda and few other boxes of junk food show. Sally made a few choices of her own, though for the most part she’s been quiet. Like her sister, she sits staring out of her side of the plastic car at the front of the cart, idly taking in the products on the shelves with disinterest.   The two thankfully seem to be improving, though you had to ask Sally to tell; her quietness made it hard to discern if it was out of choice or in part of the illness tiring her. You look back up and push the cart onward, the time seeming to blur as you finish gathering what you need. Before you could realize it, you had already paid for your items and were about to leave the store. You see a small hand-wipe dispenser near the exit, a thought coming to you and making you decide to gather a few wipes for later. After a few moments of searching for the car, then getting the two in their seats and loading the car, you push the cart towards the corral. Before you could push it in fully, you kneel down at the front of the kart. You didn’t want to potentially spread what your daughters have to any other unfortunate kid, so you begin to wipe the seats and wheel of the plastic car. After going over wherever your daughters might have touched, you ball the wipes up to throw away at home and push the cart in.   Thankfully, nothing eventful happened as you returned home and took everything inside the kitchen. Your daughters took a seat on the couch and begin to watch TV together quietly as you bring the last few bags of groceries inside. With your task done, you check your phone and take notice of the time, signaling that it was near when you should begin your work. You turn on the monitor and give the mouse a shake to pull the computer out of sleep mode. The clack of the keys as you type your password out are unusually loud in the otherwise quiet room. You quickly open the window containing all the tabs you'd set aside when you were ordering pizza yesterday. After spending some time looking at some GitHub documentation for a project you're working on, you decide to open a new tab to check Slack and see if anyone's gotten work done on the project since the last time you sat down. A few clicks and a short wait for the website to load, you see you have two new messages from your boss. You click onto the blurb overlaid onto his profile picture and start to read the messages.  'One of the employees over at Long-Wail was having some issues getting the payroll module to fetch from their database so I had them send in an issue on the GitHub for whenever you can get to it. If you need the details to remote in and take a look at the issue on their end let me know and I'll send it.'  'Might also need you to come in this week to cover for James since he came down with something yesterday.'  You let out a sigh, as you weren't expecting to come into the office this week. Not that you could anyways, since you had to care for your two sick daughters. You're almost tempted to reply but you stop yourself when you realize it's probably better to explain your situation over the phone. At least you knew your boss to be fairly understanding when it comes to that kind of thing. You decide to leave the call until you get this problem with a client out of the way and you tab over to GitHub to check if they'd successfully managed to send an issue report. After giving it a quick glance over you determine that it's probably not something that should be fixed in the code but instead most likely a case of user error, probably due to the fact that the client had opted to go without the training package in what was presumably a bid to save money.   You tab back for the desktop and open Teamviewer before realizing you don't have the details, quickly shooting off a message to your boss. He swiftly replies and you plug in the unattended access codes and wait for your machine to connect. After a few seconds you're greeted by the mess of a desktop the client calls his work computer and scan for the unmistakable icon of your company's software. A double click later and you're greeted by the login screen for the software, and you quickly type out your admin login details. After reading the report again and some quick browsing through the program you locate the issue. The client had forgotten to link the database they were using with their previous software, likely assuming that they didn't have to do any set up with this new piece of software. After fixing the issue, you quickly shoot off a message to your boss saying you'd fixed their problem before disconnecting from the remote session, tabbing to close the GitHub issue after doing so.  More and more issues like the previous one kept coming in and out, though thankfully they were just as simple as the others. It was a chore to keep pressing on with the same procedure over and over again, though the downtime helped break the monotony. After a a few hours and several more issues were solved, you took a brief break to make yourself and your daughters some lunch. As you make a few sandwiches, a small realization came to you. You feel... oddly relaxed. The job was boring, yes, but you didn't feel immediately tired of it all or ready to clock out. Thinking on it, you also came to realize that several other days just last week were also more calming than others. As you try to think of why, you quickly came to realize the cause as you listen out to the noises of the house: there weren't any. The TV still played some colorful, cartoon mess of a show, though you can tune that out easily enough. Looking out at the couch, you can see the back of Lisa's head as she rests on the armrest, most likely asleep or just quietly watching TV. Sally, as per usual, is silent herself, and Megan and Amanda are both away at school being watched by Ruby for the next hour or so.   Everything's quiet. You don't have to worry about bringing the four home, or all of them running around, desperately wanting to talk to you, play with you, jump on your lap or tug at your arm. It's all just... quiet.   It feels nice.   You almost wish things could stay like this, though you begin to feel discomforted at the thought that for such to happen, it would mean for your daughters to either be sick or stay at school longer. You refocus on making lunch for your daughters in an attempt to ignore your selfish thoughts. After making one for yourself and two for them, you place the two sandwiches on separate plates and bring them to Sally and Lisa, then retire back to your workstation with your own meal in hand. You soon resume your on and off workflow, often times taking your downtime to check on Sally and Lisa before going back to your seat. Eventually, you hear the doorbell ring, breaking you out of your mild stupor caused by your wait in the downtime. You glance at the clock as you come to a stand, surprised that it’s already about time that Ruby would be here with the two as promised.  With a quick peek through the door to confirm, you open the door to see Ruby with your two daughters. "Hey, sorry I got ‘em back to you so late, lot of traffic on the way,” she apologizes.  “Oh, no, it’s no problem; thank you again for doing this. Do, uh, you still not want any gas money for this?”  "Nah, don't worry about it. More than happy to take these little angels to class.”  "Alright, thank you. So, they were all good, then?"  "Yep, not a single problem," she answers, though something feels... off to you in the following moment of silence. She has the same slight strain in her face as your mother would have when she wants to ask something, though you don't want to make a wrong assumption. "So, ah... Tomorrow, then?"  "Yeah, just to be safe."  "Alright...." she says, the slight strain still present on her face as she looks down to Megan and Amanda. "I'll see you both tomorrow, OK?"  "OK, Ms. Ruby!" Amanda responds, with Megan nodding in agreement. They both say bye and enter past you into home, though Ruby stops you before you could say your own goodbye.  "Hey, Dave? Can we... talk? Like, sometime soon? Sorry, just want to catch up on things, you know?"  "Yeah, uh... Well... Is Friday OK?"  "Yeah, fine by me. Anyway, sorry, I hope Sally and Lisa get better. I'll be back same time tomorrow," she smiles.  "Good, thank you again. I'll... try to stop by on Friday."  "Cool. You have a good one, alright?"  "Yeah, you too. Good bye."  She gives a small nod then turns back to approach the car, though you close the door before you could see her drive off. You feel confused and wonder why she would want to bring up the proposed "catching up" once again. The feeling stays with you as you sit back down at your computer, taking a brief moment to see that you'll still need  to wait some more before a task shows up. As you're about to continue pondering while skimming through the internet, you feel a tap on your arm. You look to the side, seeing Megan staring up at you, no doubt to ask something.  "Yes, honey?" you ask, expecting her to ask to have one of the sweets Lisa and Sally got.  "Dad? What does mom look like?"