That’s why she’d gotten so angry when everything fell apart, when Kevin’s illness stole the one time of the week her family was all together.

Kevin coughing, struggling for breath. Her parents gathered around him. Ingredients for the breakfast her dad was about to make were strewn all over the counters. Whitney knew it was only a matter of time before it would be put away and her parents would tell her to grab a bowl of cereal or something, to fend for herself.

She looked longingly at the table, fantasizing about them all sitting together, forks full of syrupy toast. Her dad regaling them with stories of his week, her mom smiling and laughing, encouraging him.

The blue flame caught her eye. It danced below the pan. Her dad must’ve left it on. She reached out, her fingers lighting on the knob. But then she stopped, a thought forming. Gathering up courage, she steeled herself for what was to come.

Carefully lifting her hand, she pressed her palm down against the inside of the pan, skin sizzling. She could only bear it a few seconds before screaming out in pain.

“Oh, my God. What happened?” Her dad spun around, eyes concerned, trained on her. Only her.

“I was only trying to make breakfast.” Her little lip trembled. “I was just trying to help.” From over her dad’s shoulder, her gaze met her brother’s.

Take that, Kevin.

Clearing her throat, she shook away the memories, flipped the bread.

Her cell sat faceup on the counter, black screen staring up at her. It had been a couple of weeks since she’d talked to her dad. Her mom called every Saturday. But her dad spent Saturdays out golfing, and in the evening was either grabbing a beer with his buddies or at home relaxing, too tired for a phone conversation. She made a mental note to call and try to catch him sometime this week.

For a time, she’d had the perfect childhood. Doting, attentive parents. Especially her dad. They were tight when she was little. He’d read her bedtime stories every night, often inserting their names into the text to make her laugh.

Dad was the strongest superhero in the world.

Princess Whitney was beautiful.

He taught her to ride her bike, took her on trips to the zoo and Fairytale Town in Land Park. She’d spend hours sliding down Mother Goose’s slide, her dad catching her at the bottom, or running along the yellow brick road. And on Sundays, the two of them often took a walk to the doughnut shop around the corner. She’d always get a maple bar, though she was only able to eat half. But that was okay. Dad didn’t mind finishing it off for her. In fact, Whitney was certain he looked forward to it.

But slowly all of that went away.