Elizabeth was dead. In his universe, at least. His Elizabeth was dead.
He had Anna, though; and he was happy.
Anna DeWitt was pretty ordinary. She couldn't pick locks. She couldn't open tears. She didn't know how to break codes. She didn't dance. She didn't sing. She was Elizabeth's exact opposite.
When Booker awoke in his office after "Elizabeth" had drowned him, he was shocked to discover Anna safe and sound in her crib. He had sworn, right then and there, that he would do anything to give Anna a better life than the one she'd had before. It was like God was giving him a second chance.
And he did. He tried hard, he worked late, and eventually he made enough money to buy a bigger apartment for the both of them.
But it still felt right, somehow—but even so, Booker still missed her.
He missed Elizabeth. His Elizabeth. Elizabeth, who had joyously celebrated her newfound freedom by dancing in Battleship Bay. Elizabeth, who had been so innocent in the beginning. Elizabeth, who had forgiven him for everything.
Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.
Elizabeth.
He'd never forget her. She was a DeWitt.
What made a DeWitt?
Booker wished he could forget. Forget everything he did to her….all of the pain…the misery….the regret….the guilt…
Despite the variables, however, the constants were there, too, as they always were. Anna wasn't Elizabeth, no; but in some ways, she was.
Anna was a rough-and-tumble kind of girl. She drew in her spare time, often household objects, such as cigarette tins, beer bottles, cans, the general vicinity, or even rain. If she saw it, then hell, she could draw it. Her close observance of everyday objects was astonishing; she managed to capture every little detail, making her drawings seem almost life-like.
Elizabeth was like that.
Anna was the kind of kid you'd expect would pick a back-alley fight with someone. She would, on occasion, come home, muddy and dirty, as a result of a fight with someone who was most likely being a general jackass to some poor kid. She was either grinning proudly or she had her head down, depending on the outcome. She almost always won; that certain spark of courage and bravery was what made her her.
Elizabeth had that, too.
She didn't go to school. Booker had tried to send her, but with the bills he had to pay, he just couldn't afford it. Anna didn't seem to mind, though. Instead, she made up for her lack of education by searching every nook and cranny for an adventure or something new.
Elizabeth also had it.
But there were also many things Elizabeth didn't have.
A home.
A family.
Elizabeth had been a learned woman, true. She had known geography, science, history, math, English…and, of course, she had loved to read. The world had been her bookstore.
Anna didn't know stuff like that. She only knew what she saw or heard.
They were as different as night and day, but they were as alike as any two-dimensional souls could be.
Elizabeth was a variable.
Her personality was a constant.
No matter what universe, every Elizabeth and every Anna have the same things in common.
Courage.
Strength.
Endurance.
Curiosity.
Determination.
Loyalty.
Those traits are what makes a DeWitt.
And if not, then I don't know what does.
Okay, so I wrote this, like, a month ago. Don't hate, or it is you who will be shot next!