Cole's days were numbered.

He'd known it for a couple of years now, as a matter of fact. But he'd never quite given much thought to it. Now, lying on the hospital bed, and wincing as the syringe passing a cold solution into his debilitated body, he was beyond certain he had much less limited time than he thought. His soul was the most feverish at this time of infirmity, swelling with the anticipation of returning to its creator. But in contrast was his heart, sunken and drained, battered by the unbearable reality of his impending farewell to everything he'd spent his whole fifty-four years amassing; wealth, fame, his collection of bass guitars.

But Cole had always known, deep down in his heart, that those things were nothing but sheer vanity, his search for happiness, its foundation. A foundation that had always been anything but concrete, unstable, never quite finding the ground which suited it best. He found pleasure, yes, but never tasted happiness. Not a sliver. Only once he had a glimpse of what happiness was, when he was in full parental ownership of Mallory, bidding her calm his grieving soul by with the soft, therapeutic, enchanting strains of her violin, bordering his own happiness on her childish vigour, her benign smiles and quick adherence. But those days were gone, because that Mallory Trent was no more. She had died in the dawn of youthful exuberance, faded as independence became more of a necessity. 

She was no more since the day she found Starlight Academy.

It had been a week since he set his eyes on his daughter. He was lonely and beset by pain. If not for Susan's periodic visits, he would have long given up the ghost. But Susan, as much as he loved her, was nothing compared to the emotional bond he shared with Mallory, to the fieriness disposed in her smiles, and the heartiness in her laughs, the stark, seldom unbelievable resemblance she had with Jane Anderson. Cole shut his eyes and blocked out the memory of her mother. There was a limit to how much pain he could accommodate, and the remembrance of the angel, Jane, would do no good, but stimulate more of it. 

Lord, if you would grant me one request, Cole prayed, Protect Mallory for me. Cole was too weak to say it out loud. But he wished he could. He wished he could yell it out loud for the whole hospital to hear. He was scared for Mallory, more than he was for himself. His legs throbbed, hands shivering in the absence  of cold. A sudden urgency welled in his chest. What had he been thinking all along? He should've—

"He's trembling!" Cole recognized the nasal voice of his nurse. "An oxygen mask. Quick!"

Cole clenched his fist as he felt a sudden rush of pressure on his face. Fresh air rushed into his lungs, but it wasn't sustainable. Oxygen wasn't the problem. Fear was. Fear that Mallory would become just another Jane.

Show her Lord, show her what she's gotten herself into.

***

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

Yup, this is all I got for today. I know it's incredibly short, but this is my way of letting my readers (and myself) know that MM is still on! Honestly, I didn't see any chance of making it up to this point. But to the glory of God, and with the constant prodding of my beloved friend Beevah, I made it here. Anyways, keep watch for the upcoming chapters, because everything goes downhill from here :)