Eyes
by Cynthia Taz
Disclaimer:
All characters, sites and such from 'Buffy, The Vampire Slayer' and 'Angel' belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, WB, and et al. This story is not for sell or any profit.
Summary:
A companion piece of 'The Story of the Pet Witch'.
Author Notes:
It has been busy couple of years (not to mention it's the second time I move in four months... and to another state... grr) so I didn't get much time to work on anything at all. It's a very short piece developed while I was writing the Story of the Pet Witch (so you may want to read it beforehand), hopefully it won't confuse you guys too much.
~.~.~.~.~
'Is that my daughter?'
Looking at the child in front of her, Shelia Rosenberg cannot help but wonder... wonder what has gone wrong.
'No. It can't be...'
The young redhead who invited those men into their home... the young redhead who had let them be taken... the young redhead who stood by as they were being tortured...
'No. It is not their child.'
Oh sure. The same redhead has begged for mercy - mercy for them. But the screams and pleads become shorter and quieter, until they are... silence. Of course, her own screams and blacking out did not help either.
It hurts. Every breath. Every heart beat. She knows she is going into shocks - but a tiny bit of her still aware. Still feels. Still wants to tell that child...
Blood chocks her throat - so she cannot speak the words. But she still has her eyes - and her eyes say the words for her.
'I hate you. I wish I've never given birth to you.'
And the last thing she can remember is a pair of cold green orbs.
~.~.~.~.~
I was brought up to be a man. So I did not scream when they beat me, when they pulled out my nails and cut off my figures... when they took away my man-hood.
But I do want to scream. Not because of the physical pain, but the pain of seeing them touching my wife... hurting my wife... while my only child stands there, watching.
She keeps begging that woman to let us go, my little Willow; but at the same time, I can see it in her eyes...
Adore.
That woman... that monster, twisted as it is, is her savior. At least, that's what those green orbs tell me... along with the way my little girl cling onto that monster.
How did it get so wrong? I have been a good father, haven't I? I provide for her. I love her... shouldn't that be enough?
How can my daughter betray us so?
Maybe... maybe she is mad at me - for taking almost a month to come back after the accident at the camp? But I was busy with work - work brings money - she knows that.
But maybe she is not...? Come to think about it, when was the last time we talked? When was the last time I saw my daughter looking at me the way she is looking at that monster?
"She loves computers. You know that?" That monster told me. "But she loves acting more... she wants to take drama classes, even thought she has stage fight... not that it matters to me." Paused. "Do you know she loves the smell of books?"
Funny thing is... I never know. My little girl confirmed when she bought me dinner that night. She always brings me dinner, and let me know so I won't miss my prayer.
This monster managed to learn more of my daughter than my whole life combined... I failed.
Failed my duty as a husband. Failed my duty as a father.
But now, watching as my little girl holding that knife, I know. I know something that this monster does not know. Something that I do not want to understand at first, when I look into my little girl's eyes at dinner time...
Something that those eyes had been trying to tell me... had been trying to show me... since she slashed my wife's throat...
She may be the daughter of Ian and Shelia Rosenberg, but she is more.
She is the ultimate monster; and when the darkness and madness hidden behind those sparking green orbs finally be un-chained, and she will be magnificent... and alive.
And as a father, as long as his only daughter is alive, nothing matters.
'Do it. Willow. Do it. Don't make your mother wait too long.'
~.~.~.~.~