This is NOT going to be a songfic, however, I got inspiration from a song called "Monster" by Meg and Dia. If you want to set the mood with some background music, I recommend it.
VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!: This is set in a world where men and women can both get pregnant. No, I'm not writing m!preg, but it will be implied at least a few times. Just know that the inhabitants of this world find nothing abnormal about it.
This is a part of the Glass Series, told from Hannah's perspective. I'm going to make one from Jeremy's and (maybe) Jasmine's. (Wings of Glass is not a part of this series, if you know what that is. If not, don't worry about it)
My daddy always says he loves me, even if sometimes I don't believe it.
He doesn't hurt me at all. I got lucky with that. Jasmine's parents give her a lot of bruises and cuts, but Daddy doesn't ever do that. He says I'm a really good girl that doesn't need to be hit. I don't get in trouble a lot. I guess that's what he means.
Today, Jasmine and I played in the park.
Daddy took us there. He promised to meet a friend there and wanted to get Jasmine out of her house. He takes her along whenever we go somewhere and has her over a lot. I don't think he likes her parents.
We drove by lots of pretty buildings on the way there. I like the one with the singing robots. They're really funny and made me smile! My favorite is the bunny (it's my favorite color), but I don't think Daddy likes any of them that much. He used to work there but only took us once. It wasn't while he was working.
"Look," Jasmine says and points to a guy standing outside the building. The guy is all purple, even his skin. "He kind of looks like you."
Daddy makes a weird noise that sounds like a hiccup. He usually does that before running to his room and locking the door. It's the first time I've seen him do it outside home.
"He's my favorite color!" I smile at the man. I wish I could've run up and say hi.
Daddy makes another weird hiccup.
It took a whole hour to get there (even if Jasmine said it was only ten minutes- that's not what it felt like!) but finally we did! I throw open the car door and start bolting for the swings.
"W-wait!" Daddy calls. "Hannah, c-come back!"
I turn around and run back to him like Superman. He lifts me up into the sky as I spread out my arms and laugh. "Weee!"
I see Jasmine looking around. She seems a little nervous like she always is in front of new people. "Where's your friend?" her quiet voice asks. It's a very quiet voice, even quieter than my daddy's!
A tall, muscular man tip-toes behind her, reaches out and snatches her up by the sides, tossing her up higher than me. "Here I am!"
She lets out a small whimper that me and Daddy know to be her screaming.
"H-hi, Mike." Daddy smiles at the man who looks a lot tanner than him, with ice blue eyes and a lot more height. Actually, I think the only thing they have in common is brown hair, and even then, Mike's is a lot darker!
"Hey, Jere. Hey, Hannah." He smiles back at my daddy and me. "Who's this kiddo?"
Jasmine keeps silent, her violet eyes frozen in fear. I had to answer for her. "That's Jasmine. A-and she doesn't like people, s-so you better put her down."
Mike chuckles. "My bad." He puts her back on the ground and she runs to cower behind Daddy's short legs.
Daddy sets me on the ground, too, and bends down a little. "I-it's okay, Jass. That's m-my friend."
"His name's Uncle Mike," I say proudly. He's not really my uncle, but that's what he told me to call him.
"Uncle Mike?" She peers out from behind Daddy, her blonde, wavy hair hiding most of her face.
Mike crouches down so their eyes are at the same level. "You can call me that, if you want."
I see her smile again. I love it when my best friend smiles.
The taller one stands up and looks at Daddy. "What did you need to talk about?"
Daddy looks down at the two of us as we played games with our hands. Those are the best games to play while you're waiting for adults so you don't pester them.
"G-go play on the sw-swings please, H-hannah."
I nod and grab Jasmine's hand to lead her to the swing set.
Once we're there, she says to me in that quiet voice of hers, "What do you think they're talking about?"
I shrug to her. Never had I thought about things like that. There wasn't a need to.
She plops down on the grass in front of the swings so that her ear is facing Daddy and Uncle Mike, who are sitting on a bench a few yards away.
I sit in front of her. We stare at each other for a while before I finally decide to ask her what she's doing.
A finger goes up to her mouth to shush me. "Listen," she whispers.
Listen to what? There's some birds chirping in the sky, a couple bees somewhere with the daisies, a dog off in the distance. What else-
"-I-I c-can't help but think ab-bout that night w-when I l-look at h-her..."
Is Daddy talking? Why does he sound so upset?
"-I th-think she's t-turning into a ps-psychopath. W-what if sh-she e-ends u-up lik-ke Him?!" His voice keeps cracking.
The next thing I see is Daddy crying silently into Mike's chest while shaking. There's only one thing to do. I stand up, walk over to the bench and hug Daddy, who jumps and buries deeper into Mike.
"Hey, Hannah," Uncle Mike greets. "Your dad's okay. He just needs some time alone right now."
Jasmine had joined us by the time I let go and ask, "But what about you?"
"Time alone with me."
"Oh." I frown and my best friend pats my back. So today's not one of his good days.
My eyes turn down to the ground. Why can't I stop him from crying? I'm a horrible person. No matter what happens, all I seem to do is make him cry!
"Hannah," Mike says in a stern, hard voice and I look up at him. I don't think he sees my eyes watering. "Go to the slide."
I nod, grabbing Jasmine's hand to lead her there, but she tugs it back, which stuns me. She shakes her head and turns to Uncle Mike. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"Then go. It's right behind us."
I look up to the small grey building on the other side of the walkway. I don't like public potties; they're dirty and gross, like me. That's what Daddy says about my gifts behind his door.
Jasmine waves at me to follow as she rushes into the building. I take one last look at Daddy before disappearing around the corner. He's still crying.
Once inside, Jasmine presses a bleach-white ear up to the wall blocking us from the outside. What's she doing? That's not going potty!
I open my mouth, but she shushes me and whispers, "Listen."
My ear moves to the wall, too. It's quiet, but I can hear Uncle Mike and Daddy talk again.
"They're gone now, Jere," Mike says. "What'd she do?"
There's a pause for what felt like ages before Daddy starts talking. "It's th-things she s-says, lik-ke w-when w-we're watching a h-horror movie, sh-she cheers o-on the monster a-and giggles a-at it g-gutting people; I-I haven't let her watch one i-in forever b-but she st-still says th-things that s-sound like they sh-should be fr-from one-"
I do those things, too. ...Wait, is Daddy talking about me?
"That's just kids, Jere. They do things like that. It's weird, but normal."
"But i-it's not just words! S-sometimes I w-wake up in the m-middle of the n-night to f-find her i-in the k-kitchen stab-bing s-something...I don't-t even know h-how she c-can reach th-the knives-s!" His voice is shaking a lot, and I think I hear him sobbing. "A-and her gifts- oh, god her g-gifts! I-I h-have to forc-ce mys-self not t-to puk-ke in fr-front of h-her!"
"I didn't know macaroni art could be that bad."
There's another pause; I think Daddy is glaring at him like he does a lot.
"H-her art-twork is g-grotesque, b-but-t not-t as b-bad as-s th-the g-gifts." Another pause. I hear him breathing heavy. "She brings me dead birds, Mike! W-what kind of seven-year-old g-gives her dad dead birds?!"
"...Did you try telling her it was wrong?"
"All the t-time, but-t i-it doesn't h-help! W-what am I-I doing wr-wrong?!"
Wh...what…? Daddy, you're not doing anything wrong!
"M-maybe sh-she doesn't deserve m-me as a fath-ther…"
Stop it, Daddy! I love you! You're the best father I could ask for! I want to hug him so bad, but Mike says he needs alone time…
…
...I'm done listening.
I turn away from the wall and look to Jasmine. She still has her ear pressed to it.
"Are you going to pee?" I ask, repressing the urge to cry.
She shakes her head a little, still trying to hear them.
"L-let's go p-play on the slide." My fingers twirl around the strings on my emerald jacket as the same-colored eyes turn down to the floor.
Her thin lips frown. "Don't you hear this?"
"N-no," I lie. I can still hear them in my head.
"I didn't know you ripped off Barbie Heads and stick them in...what?"
My cheeks start burning as she leans into the wall even further. "C-can we please g-go p-play?" I can already feel the tears coming.
Her violet eyes meet my own green and she frowns, but, thankfully, removes her ear. "Hannah? Why don't you have another mom or dad?"
I stare at her for a while and she just stares back, waiting for an answer. Except, I don't have one- an answer or another parent. That's never something I thought about. It's always been me and Daddy. Sometimes I have Uncle Mike, or Mr. Fritz, or Jasmine, but I always have Daddy. Always Daddy and me.
But the other kids have two parents.
Some have two mommies, some have two daddies, most have one of each, but all of them have two. Even Jasmine has two, but I don't.
...Why?
Why are you all alone, Daddy? Am I supposed to have another parent? Did they leave? Did they die?
...Is it my fault?