A teddy bear. That was what she saw.
The little girl was only six when the results came back positive. Not soon after, the doctors had her on chemo, trying all they could to get rid of the destroyer of bone tissue. The little girl started wearing hats, started wearing ribbons, started seeing support foundations a lot more now.
“Daddy, can I have the teddy bear? Pleeeeeease?” she begged her father, looking up to him and squeezing his hand tight. He wore a hat, too, but not for the same reasons. His was to conceal a scar from the past.
He blinked at her a few times, looked to the small brown teddy bear, and smiled. “Yeah, sure sweetheart. Course you can have the teddy bear.” His response couldn’t have made the small girl happier as her father gladly gave her the now bought teddy bear. It was hers, hers to cuddle.
She cuddled it at night, when she slept in her room after a long day of playing. Her brother slept on the other side of the room, unable to sleep.