Maria Torque
"Bonjour, ma chere," I greeted my husband at his arrival from his work.
"Good day to you, my dear Maria." He takes me in his arms and lines my neck with kisses.
"I have a great bit of news to share with you, love."
"Indeed? Then I am very much interested. Shall you share is with me now or later?" he asks.
"Jacque, I am expecting a child," I say.
His facial expressions change...he seems quite suprised. He stands in what I take to be awe.
"Jacque, are you not happy?" I question, grasping his arms.
He suddenly smiles, glee consuming his visage. "My beautiful Maria, I am over-joyed at this news, and I cannot wait for the child's birth." He trails my jaw with his finger-tips and then kisses my lips gently. "Our infant shall be proof of our love for one another."
"Yes. I'm glad you are not angry with me," I sigh in relief.
"Maria, why would I be mad?"
"I was taught that it is almost impossible to tell how a man will react to news of his wife's pregnancy. However, now, I suppose I should not concern myself with it."
"Of course you should not concern yourself with such. You are shall be a mother, you sill not put yourself under stress...it is not good for the baby."
"I am aware of that, Jacque. I'm quite excited...I pray the day of the birth comes quickly."
The day has come and at a terrible pain aswell as the liquid that stains my night gown, my husband lifts me from the ground and carries me to our bedroom. I am laid in the bed and then before I can really grasp what is truely happening, the midwife is telling me to push. I do as I am told but the midwife's expression changes after she tells me I am close to delivering my child.
"What...has...happened?" I ask between gasps of breath due to my tiredness.
"The birth cord is around the infant's neck...strangling the little one. You must do as I say or your child will die."
The delivery takes much longer than anyone expected...twenty minutes longer than it hshould have. It is early morning when the midwife raises herself from the level of the bed, she holds in her arms a screaming child. After a moment of cleaning the baby, she places the bundle of blankets and skin in my arms. The combination of Jacque and I is a little girl...beautiful in every way.
I look her features over intently... she has no outward resemblance to her father or me...her eyes pupils are as black as coals, her hair is silver, and she has skin that is paler than that of a ghost.
"Where is our child, Maria?" Jacque enters. He crosses the room and looks down upon the child resting quietly in my arms.
"She is here, Jacque," I reply.
"She's...quite different," he says atlast. "She does not resemble you or I in the least."
"Kiera is unique, Jacque...perfect the way she is. Her hair may be silver and her eyes may be blacker than night, but I love her the way she is...there is nothing wrong with her." I kiss her forehead.
"Kiera?"
"Yes...it sounds exotic to me, and seems quite fitting. Don't you agree?"
"Of course."
Jacque
Maria and I raised Kiera like a normal child but hid her away from the world for fear of her being ridiculed and abused due to her uniqueness. She always questioned this but accepted the answer that her mother and I gave. Unlike most little girls, Kiera was not very fond of light colored dresses...she preferred dark colors, especially black. No matter how hard we tried to get her to wear lighter colored clothes, she refused and ran off to her room to play the piano or her violin...even at a young age, she was very skilled with both and any other musical instrument she could get her sneaky little hands on. However, she was happy and to us, that was all that mattered.
When Kiera was eight years old, Maria, her mother and my beloved wife, died of pnuemonia. For days after the funeral, Kiera sat in her room and played mournful tunes on her violin that seemed to heavy the air with sorrow. Those days turned to weeks and those weeks to months. One day, I lost my temper. I flew up the stairs at the sound of the violin, stormed into her room, and gave her quite the thrashing. I do not remember what all I said to her but whatever I did, it kept her from speaking to me and from playing or even leaving the bedroom.
Without her annoying me with her sorrow filled music, I found another woman...Cassandra. At first I only saw her when we went to dinner or met on the streets, but then, I invited her to spend the day with me. I had no intentions of her meeting Kiera or evening knowing that I was a father.
"Jacque, my dear, what is that sound?" she asked as we sat on the sofa and talked.
I listened carefully...Kiera was playing her damned violin again. "I'm sure it is nothing, here, have a glass of brandy." We drank until we were struck by a fit of insane laughter that stirred Kiera from her room.
She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, violin in hand. "Papa, what is going on?" she inquired quietly.
"What is that?" Cassandra screamed, pointing at the silver haired girl at the stairs. "Get rid of it..it's hideous!"
Too drunk to know what I was doing, I yanked Kiera by her arm and yelled, "Why have you done this, you little demon? How dare you embarrass me in front of my fiance!"
"I'm sorry, Papa! I didn't know you had company, honest! Please, don't hurt me!"
"It's too late for apologies, you retched thing." I threw her to the ground and snatched her violin from her hands, beating it against the wall until it was in pieces. The bow I broke across my knee.
Kiera, being a musician, was offended and shouted that I was a horrible person. She started up the stairs to retreat into the solitude of her dark room but I tackled her to the ground and dragged her back to the den. With Cassandra watching happily, I began to smash Kiera's face into the floor, holding her by her now curly silver hair.
"Stop!" she cried with each blow, but I did not...and would not.
A knock at the door forced me to stop. Cassandra answered to the elderly lady next door who had befriended Kiera.
"What is going on in here? I heard screaming and quite a bit of other ruckess. Good heavens! Kiera, child, what has happened to your face?" she rushes to the girl lying face down on the floor, blood dripping from her lip and nose.
"She fell, Madam, down the stairs."
'Is that so? Why do I smell brandy? Have you and your friend been drinking, Monsieur Torque?"
"Of course not, it was Kiera, she's been quite curious lately and got into the bottle."
"Oh, I see. Well, make certain you care for her wounds and you must be more careful, Kiera. We cannot let you get hurt. Am I clear?"
Kiera nodded and then hurried off to her room.