Mr. Sweet knew he wasn't the best man who ever lived, but he wasn't the worst ever either. Sure he shirked his fatherly responsibilities, emotionally cut himself off from his own daughter, and caused her psychological pain to the point where she almost drowned herself, but... No. There were no buts. That was horrendous and he had a long, long, LONG way to go to make that up to Sour Sweet.
Mr. Sweet shook his head. He hated when his ruminations of mistakes past caused him to get distracted. He was sitting at his desk in his home office. Paper work had been piling up, so he trying to get through it as fast as he could before the deadline next morning.
There was then a knock upon his open door.
Without looking up, Mr. Sweet let out a frustrated sigh. "What?"
Mr. Sweet looked over. There was his daughter in the doorway. She seemed hesitant, perhaps even a little frightened. The thought came to him that she could be scared of talking to him. He supposed he couldn't blame her.
"Yes, Sour?" Mr. Sweet asked, his voice trying its best to sound gentle as possible.
"There's a guy in my room."
Mr. Sweet raised an eyebrow. "A guy?"
Sour nodded. "The bastard won't leave."
"Uh, are you talking about your boyfriend?"
"Nope." Sour shrugged. "Just some guy."
Mr. Sweet stared at her. A creeping feeling came up his spine. Was this an episode? He suppressed a shiver. Schizophrenia scared him. He could still recall how he felt when he first received the news of the diagnosis. Confusion, fear, and a bit of denial. However, whenever he had those feelings, he tried to remind himself of the fact that no matter how much he was creeped out, he wasn't the one who actually had to deal with it.
"Oh. Well, I'll go deal with him then..."
Mr. Sweet got up and followed his daughter's lead to her bedroom. Just as he expected, the room was empty. There was no "guy".
I hate this spooky stuff... Mr. Sweet mentally griped before saying aloud, "So, he's still in there, is he?"
"And he's sucking up all the sap running down my walls with a straw!"
"Right..." was all Mr. Sweet could respond to that.
He stared straight into the room and then at his daughter. Part of him simply wanted to tell her, "Nobody's there" and go back to his office. Only part of him. The other part, his fatherly part, wanted to do something. He thought back to when Sour was little. He used to check under her bed and in the closet for monsters. He chased them all away. It was just like those old times, right? No, of course not. This was way more clinically serious than that.
Still, Mr. Sweet realized that he had a job to do. He took a deep breath and marched into his daughter's room, slamming the door shut behind him. At first, Sour was confused by this. Then came the shouting.
"Alright, you! Yeah, I'm talking to you! Scram, dirtbag! Get outta here! Go on, get! You're not welcome under this roof! This is MY daughter's room and this is MY house! I've got work to do! I pay the bills here! I'm very important! I drive a Dodge Stratus!!!"
Sour couldn't help but to open her door slightly to peek in. The sight of her own father yelling and jumping around at ( what she could now see as ) nothing put a smile on her face. He was making a complete fool of himself. All for her.
"And stop sucking up all the sap from the walls!" Mr. Sweet demanded. "That's OUR wall sap!!!"
With that, Mr. Sweet composed himself and walked out.
"Okay, I got rid of him," he announced confidently. However, that quickly faded as he was obliged to ask, "Um, I did, didn't I?"
Sour took her father by surprise by embracing him. "He's gone. Thank you, dad."
Mr. Sweet smiled. He wasn't a perfect father, but at least he was proud he could get it right every once in a while.
As her father returned to his office, Sour went into her room and closed the door behind her. She gazed around to see it one hundred percent free of the freaks she didn't want in there.
"He's not such a bad dad after all," Sour said aloud. She then glanced at an empty corner. "Don't you think, Hershel?"
The creature with long black hair with eyes to match and all four limbs completely backward slurped up one of the numerous worms covering its skinny, pale body before grinning and hissing, "He's a peach, love."