They have always told me that I look like her, despite my dark features and the fact that she swore I was the spitting image of my aunt. They said that our smile is the same and the way our eyes crinkle when we laugh, but since I was two people have always called me my father's daughter. People would smile and watch, running a hand through my dark locks, look up at him and say, "Well, she certainly is 'Spooky.'" That's who I've been all my life. Even in hiding, it was obvious whose child I was. My grandma used to come over and laugh when she would see the drawings; she'd look at me knowingly, smiling at my father. Though it became much more obvious when things went back to normal for them. We couldn't go to one of my parent's colleagues' house without an odd look or remark about it. Even my mother has said these things.
Now I'm 28 years old and everyday I walk into work I hear the same snickers he heard, I feel the stares, the judgment. They all know what to expect when they walk in, nothing has changed. The same pencils line the ceiling, as a makeshift dartboard. The posters on the wall still hang; the florescent light is still flickering. It's the way it has always been and I wouldn't have it any other way. Today though I could feel it. Something wasn't as it always had been today was the day my life would be changed the way my father's was 35 years ago, but I didn't know it yet.
I sat down in the desk chair throwing my feet up on the desk, my black pumps sliding slightly off my feet. I sighed a sigh of relief; it had been a rough few hours of getting thrown under the bus in meetings as usual. Taking a hair tie out of my desk I quickly threw my long dark hair into a bun, sliding the pencil out from behind my ear. My earrings, which matched my necklace, dangled from their place. An odd shaped bobble that many would have laughed at but they were special to me, a gift from my dad at 16. They were my birthstone, a shinning emerald green, in the shape of a flying saucer. I could usually hear my colleagues snicker in the hall "Oh god… Are they really space ships?" "Well she is his kid!"
Yes being his daughter has never been an easy task but what can I say with a name like Melissa Aurora Mulder you wouldn't expect anything simple.