Desperate

Chapter 2

Vlad groaned, frustrated and annoyed when Elizabeth's cries sounded from the baby monitor. He understood waking up to feed her but to change her or rock her back to sleep? Heck, one time he had to put the pacifier back in her mouth when it fell out! How long was he going to have to endure waking up just to do things like that? Did every parent have to deal with waking up in the middle of the night more than once to care for their child?

He didn't understand why she was doing it either; the first few nights she spent with him were fine. She didn't cry, never screamed, and never wailed. Why was she doing it now?

Disoriented, he reached up and turned on his lamp before throwing the covers off of him and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, letting them touch the soft carpet beneath his feet. He slipped on his slippers and stood up then walked over to the foot of his bed and lazily put on his robe. Slowly, he stumbled over to the bedroom door and opened it before exiting his room and heading straight for Elizabeth's, grateful that he decided to make sure she slept a few doors down.

"I'm coming, Elizabeth," he tiredly called as he stumbled through the hallway, unsure if she could hear him.

Her cries screamed through the closed door, making him sigh tiredly and enter the room then turn on the light. His squinted a bit at the bright lights and waited to readjust them before walking over to her, the amount of energy he was using dwindling with each step he took. "I'm here, sweetheart," he assured, his tone sounding more exhausted than frustrated.

When her cries wouldn't calm down, he wasn't sure if she heard him over her loud wailing. "Elizabeth." He lowered the front panel of the crib and picked up the screaming child. "Daddy's here, sweetheart."

Her cries didn't calm down, so he first brought her over to the changing table. He set her down, unbuttoned her pink onesie and looked inside her diaper. When he realized the problem wasn't the diaper, he reattached the diaper and buttoned up her onesie before picking her up and heading over to the fridge. He opened the fridge, took out a bottle, then staggered over to the rocking chair to sit down. Once seated, he teased her lips with the nipple of the bottle, testing to see if she was hungry. When she wouldn't take the bottle, he sighed again and placed it on the ground before rocking the chair, hoping that she just wanted to be rocked back to sleep again.

"Sh, Elizabeth," he whispered, trying to soothe her, as he gently rocked her, "go to sleep."

A few moments later, he breathed a sigh of relief as soon as her cries died down to panting. "Good girl, Elizabeth." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, watching her eyes close as she fell asleep in his arms.

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Vlad sighed tiredly as he walked-well, stumbled down the stairs, exhausted from last night. Elizabeth woke him up eight times during the night; five of those times she needed to be fed, once she needed to be changed, once she needed to be rocked, and the last one was because the gardener turned on the leaf blower outside.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He knew he couldn't keep waking up in the middle of the night when he had work the next day; how was he going to commit crimes when he wasn't fighting at his fullest? Maybe he needed a full-time nanny.

He stumbled into the kitchen, his back bending over slightly from exhaustion, and sat down at the table where his usual breakfast was waiting for him. He poked at his eggs then glanced up when the sound of footsteps reached his ears and saw his chef, Mr. Martinez, walk in. "Good morning, Mr. Masters," the latter greeted, smiling, "how was your night?"

"Frustrating," he replied and took a sip of his orange juice then set it down, "you seem awfully cheery this morning."

"Yes, well, I had a good night last night."