DISCLAIMER: I don't own Weiss Kreuz or any of the characters. See, I
don't even know how to do that nifty little German B-like thingy that's
supposed to be on the end of "Wei-." I just kinda suck like that. Oh
well, on with the show.
WARNINGS: It's Farfie, so if he skeeves you, don't read. Sexual abuse and possibly offensive religious content involved.
FEEDBACK: Like all writers, sane or otherwise, it is what I live for.
ARCHIVE: Um. Should the unlikely event arise, sure, just kindly ask before you smack it up there with the proper credits, and let me know where it's off to.
sins of the father
The first time, his father had kept his hand pressed to his mouth the entire time, making it difficult to breathe. The man's heavier body had bowed over the child, putting their faces close enough that Jei could hear the soft sounds coming from his father's mouth.
"Shh, shh."
Over and over, as if there were someone else in the room with them to overhear.
"Shh, don't tell anyone. You won't tell anyone, will you Jei? It would make your sister cry if she knew that I didn't love her like this, you know that don't you? You wouldn't want to make your sister cry.I love her too, I love your mother, but I don't love them as much as you. You're special to me Jei, so very special.I know you won't tell anyone; you'll keep our secret right? You're good at keeping secrets, that's my good boy.."
He was good at keeping secrets and he didn't want to make his sister cry. He was a good boy.
"Shh."
~ part one
He'd found Mina crying out behind the church, in the graveyard. She'd lain curled at the foot of their grandmother's headstone, arms crossed over her stomach as if to hold in the sobs that shuddered through her doll's body, shaking their way out through her delicate bones. He'd pulled her into his arms and held her as best he could, murmuring gently, rambling, saying that she was far too pretty to cry, if someone had hurt her her big brother Jei would take care of it, and look, she had stained her pretty new dress, that everything was going to be all right, everything would be all right.
Nothing was all right.
It was hard to understand the words of a crying, hysterical little girl, even harder when her face was buried in her brother's shirtfront, the cloth muffling the words even further. It took several tries for Jei to fully understand her, and when he finally did, he wished that he hadn't asked. Father had lied. Father loved them. Father loved them both, Mina hadn't been left out after all, he loved them both just the same. But it made Mina cry. Jei couldn't stand to see his little sister crying.
Never mind that their father's love often made him cry too, when he was alone and there wasn't a hand to press itself tight against his mouth, sealing in any sound that might have escaped. He loved his father though. And his father loved him as well. Loved them both. He loved them both just the same. In the back of the church, sitting on his grandmother's grave, he had held his sister and let her cry in his arms. She had gripped the cloth of his shirt tightly in her little fingers and buried her angel's face in his chest. Jei had held her so hard that he was almost afraid that he'd hurt her, rocking her gently, rocking them both while he whispered softly into the air.
"Father loves us, Father loves us, Father loves us."
Over and over again.
"Father loves us, Father loves us, Father loves us."
Father.
Father.
God.
"God loves us Mina, God loves us, God will keep us safe."
And his sister had listened to him, believed him, her own lips moving with his to form the words, over and over again. On the nights when their father came to tell them how much he loved them before slipping into their beds, it became a mantra for them. It was something they would whisper endlessly after Father had gone, when one of them would slip across the hall into the other's room so they could hold each other for the warmth it gave them in the cold cold house. Their mother slept so soundly that she never heard her husband slip from his place beside her to go to their children's rooms. And if she did, she never said anything about it. If she had ever ventured into her son's or daughter's room in the dead of the night though, she would have heard the endless whispered chant, said over and over, repeated so many times as if-
-as if if you said it enough it would make it real. Child's logic.
As if you said something enough, believed something hard enough, it would become the truth. Become more than a desperate lie to comfort children with.
"Father loves us.
.God will keep us safe"
"Father.
".God."
WARNINGS: It's Farfie, so if he skeeves you, don't read. Sexual abuse and possibly offensive religious content involved.
FEEDBACK: Like all writers, sane or otherwise, it is what I live for.
ARCHIVE: Um. Should the unlikely event arise, sure, just kindly ask before you smack it up there with the proper credits, and let me know where it's off to.
sins of the father
The first time, his father had kept his hand pressed to his mouth the entire time, making it difficult to breathe. The man's heavier body had bowed over the child, putting their faces close enough that Jei could hear the soft sounds coming from his father's mouth.
"Shh, shh."
Over and over, as if there were someone else in the room with them to overhear.
"Shh, don't tell anyone. You won't tell anyone, will you Jei? It would make your sister cry if she knew that I didn't love her like this, you know that don't you? You wouldn't want to make your sister cry.I love her too, I love your mother, but I don't love them as much as you. You're special to me Jei, so very special.I know you won't tell anyone; you'll keep our secret right? You're good at keeping secrets, that's my good boy.."
He was good at keeping secrets and he didn't want to make his sister cry. He was a good boy.
"Shh."
~ part one
He'd found Mina crying out behind the church, in the graveyard. She'd lain curled at the foot of their grandmother's headstone, arms crossed over her stomach as if to hold in the sobs that shuddered through her doll's body, shaking their way out through her delicate bones. He'd pulled her into his arms and held her as best he could, murmuring gently, rambling, saying that she was far too pretty to cry, if someone had hurt her her big brother Jei would take care of it, and look, she had stained her pretty new dress, that everything was going to be all right, everything would be all right.
Nothing was all right.
It was hard to understand the words of a crying, hysterical little girl, even harder when her face was buried in her brother's shirtfront, the cloth muffling the words even further. It took several tries for Jei to fully understand her, and when he finally did, he wished that he hadn't asked. Father had lied. Father loved them. Father loved them both, Mina hadn't been left out after all, he loved them both just the same. But it made Mina cry. Jei couldn't stand to see his little sister crying.
Never mind that their father's love often made him cry too, when he was alone and there wasn't a hand to press itself tight against his mouth, sealing in any sound that might have escaped. He loved his father though. And his father loved him as well. Loved them both. He loved them both just the same. In the back of the church, sitting on his grandmother's grave, he had held his sister and let her cry in his arms. She had gripped the cloth of his shirt tightly in her little fingers and buried her angel's face in his chest. Jei had held her so hard that he was almost afraid that he'd hurt her, rocking her gently, rocking them both while he whispered softly into the air.
"Father loves us, Father loves us, Father loves us."
Over and over again.
"Father loves us, Father loves us, Father loves us."
Father.
Father.
God.
"God loves us Mina, God loves us, God will keep us safe."
And his sister had listened to him, believed him, her own lips moving with his to form the words, over and over again. On the nights when their father came to tell them how much he loved them before slipping into their beds, it became a mantra for them. It was something they would whisper endlessly after Father had gone, when one of them would slip across the hall into the other's room so they could hold each other for the warmth it gave them in the cold cold house. Their mother slept so soundly that she never heard her husband slip from his place beside her to go to their children's rooms. And if she did, she never said anything about it. If she had ever ventured into her son's or daughter's room in the dead of the night though, she would have heard the endless whispered chant, said over and over, repeated so many times as if-
-as if if you said it enough it would make it real. Child's logic.
As if you said something enough, believed something hard enough, it would become the truth. Become more than a desperate lie to comfort children with.
"Father loves us.
.God will keep us safe"
"Father.
".God."