The Perfect Doll
It's hard to kill your child, make no mistake of that. I've done many easier things in my life, but it had to be done. I shall never forget my daughter just as I shall never forget my wife, and like her mother, Sonja will haunt me in my sleep for the rest of eternity. She was a good daughter, truly. She always respected her elders, always had perfect manner and a perfect demeanor. At times it was hard to remember she was a real child and not a perfectly constructed doll, a flawless marionette, who moved at my commands without a word of insurrection.
Don't think me heartless for breaking that porcelain face. If I didn't have a heart it wouldn't have broken when she pleaded with me, "Please, Papa, mercy, please have mercy."
I was merciful, merciful to let her die rather then condemn her to live in the shame she so foolishly brought upon her name…my name.
Her steps were always too well choreographed. Too flawless. She glided across her life with me wearing a small fake smile and occasionally forcing a laugh. Her eyes, her mother's eyes, they always flitted towards the shadows…towards the slaves.
"We're the same Papa, conceived and borne of the same Immortal Womb! The only differences between us go as far as sight and ignorance allow them!"
My poor foolish girl, so young….so old.
She was always the perfect doll on the shelf. Always dressed so prettily, so slim and white, like a dark haired angel with jeweled eyes. A doll that I could pet and play with and spoil as I pleased, my much beloved Sonja.
Denial was, perhaps, the cause of her death. I denied there was anything wrong until it was too late. At first when she would go missing, never for long, a stray few hours before she had to retire, I believed her when she said she'd taken to roaming in the gardens or escaping to the library for a brief respite. And being the ever indulgent father that I was, I had more flowers planted, more books ordered; anything my little girl desired.
But she still went missing…and she never saw those flowers nor read those books. I tried to look past that, tried to tell myself that it was nothing. She was such a good girl...such a good girl.
Then she stopped pretending to spend time with me at all, stopped running in our social circle altogether. There were times when she was ill for hours for no apparent reason. Her appetite changed, she became moodier, and she slept more then usual. She was gaining weight, losing her figure…was I losing my little girl?
One night I went to check on her, just like when she was small and I would creep into her bedroom as she slept, just to hear her breathing. My precious little girl….she wasn't alone. She was locked in his arms. Lucian whom I had banned from guard duty because his post was too near her rooms. Lucian whom I had seen gaze upon her, a look in his eyes far from what he should've shown to his Master's daughter. Lucian whom I'd given a second chance to. A mere slave…dear Gods an affair with a man less worthy of her affection then the dirt she stood upon. As the door to her boudoir banged the wall behind me he pushed her in back of him, shielding her from what? Me? It was he who needed to fear me. How dare he touch her!
It was then that I caught a glimpse of her. Emerald eyes wide with fear….fear? Did she fear me? I had never hurt her! I loved her! How could it be fear?….But it was. She was trembling, slender arms shaking as she gripped at her lover's shirt. She was wearing an under-gown; it revealed what she had been hiding from me. Having spent months staring at my late wife's belly as Sonja grew inside her. I recognized the swell of the belly, the new fullness of the breasts.
A growl emitted from my deep within me. How dare this mutt so defile my daughter? How dare he! And there in my heart a deeper pain, a deeper betrayal…how could she do this to me?
"It's your grandchild, Papa…have mercy on the babe! Have mercy! It is not to blame for my folly! Please, Papa, please!"
I recall the first time I ever held her, so fragile looking I feared to hold her, feared to break her. But my wife laid her in my arms and my heart melted, everything in the world disappeared save for my family and I. That day she looked at me with big, wide eyes and gripped one of my fingers in her tiny fist. That day my whole world began to revolve around my daughter. When her mother died, how could I risk losing Sonja too? The only token of my dear wife I had left, a living memory.
I tried to spare her, I argued with the Council and with her.
"Renounce this affair, give up the child. Start again fresh, Sonja! Be spared! Help me save you."
She shook her beautiful head, "I will not apologize when I've done nothing wrong. I love him, I love this child and I will not give up either."
I collapsed at her feet. No one else saw, no one else knew.
"Why? Why!"
"That question cannot be answered, there is no logical explanation for why I love him…except…he gave me warmth."
"Warmth? What nonsense you speak! Child, I have warmed you since you were a babe!"
"No, you gave me blankets…you gave me fire…you gave me those things which you could see and touch and therefore understand! You never gave me the untouchable."
"Who can give anyone that?"
"If you need to ask that, you shall never know the answer."
Perhaps I am a coward, that I could not watch her execution. I could not watch the flames consume her, could not bear to hear her scream for me to help her anymore. I gave my child her first breath…and I caused her last breath, watched those jade eyes first open and finally close. I had never thought on her death. It is not a topic parents normally mingle with thoughts of their children, but I never imagined she could ever fall into such…ugliness.
I will be there to execute this Giver of Untouchable things, I shall give him a gift that can be touched indeed! A blade! A blade! I shall cut out the life from the man who severed the strings of my marionette and sent her crashing to the cold, hard floor.