bipolar people. fun.

(She's there, she's there that

Demon child with her laughing eyes

And red hands - )

She is small, and she can't breathe, there are too many things inside me right now, like a jester singing poetry at me, and a single-minded intent to rid the world of her, to let nothing of her life ever so much as leave a smudge on the great white wall that is existence.

Why?

(Because she dances to the music of curses and shrieks and

Eva's voice giggling

At your red hands - )

Because she kept that pop-candy ring, the one with the gemstone made out of blueberry-flavoured sweet that was longer than my pinky finger and which I used to stick in my mouth until my teeth went brown and ached and I left only the plastic yellow circle that was just big enough to fit around my ring finger but I never could play like that, could I?

And she kept it, she kept it, she was eight years old and and

I push harder, her neck is so small, warm, screaming about how that little ring should have been thrown away, it shouldn't have been anything important, be a big girl, she's nine now, nine - no time for games now, Maria, time to grow up, Maria, I should never have gotten you that candy, why did you keep it, Maria?

It's a year old, Maria, it's a piece of trash just like you are no, no, I love you - who am I kidding here? You're a dead baby that was born cold and aged - that's what I dream about when I'm alone.

(What does she see in cobwebs

In dark spaces thick with nothing

And red, red eyes ?)

I'll never know why you latched on to something so horrible, Maria – you could have other hobbies, was it because of me? It can't have been. Can't have been. Tell me it can't have been, Maria, tell me, tell me, please.

This is worse than the time I got you the doll, honestly. You were telling me it was alive the next day, and now you've gone and made this symbol and telling that poor child next to you that if you threw the ring into it a demon would appear because it's been kissed by a witch. Thank goodness he's gone, you could have ruined us.

Kissed by a witch? If life is a glass window, hers should be broken - all witches get broken, Maria, stop dreaming about magic, this is all nonsense. You kept that ring just for this, Maria? I never want to see this again. No more circles, no more wizardry, never again, you heard me. Really, Maria, what is wrong with you?

And she's still holding the ring and crying this is all wrong that ring should be gone then I wouldn't remember, what was I thinking?

I felt like a martyr when I saw the candy store and I should stop this

(She thinks you're a martyr

A sacrifice for the black witch

Those red hands aren't yours.)

I love you, Maria, but why do you do this to me? All you do is drive our name through the mud, Maria. You roll it and yourself through filth.

Why did I ever mother you why weren't you a stillborn why

I was never allowed to have those pop-candy rings, but sometimes a servant snuck me some, especially after I'd been crying. I used them like pacifiers, then carefully made sure nobody ever saw a hint that I'd touched commoner's trash, anything to keep our family's name among the most revered. I'd be torn apart if Krauss or Eva found out. Everyone had sabers for tongues.

But I kept them, in a locked box where everyone else kept money. And I threw that box into the ocean last time we were there.

I am an adult.

I don't ever want to see those pop-candy rings again, they stink of weakness, but I felt she should have one, for normalcy's sake. I am a loving mother, I am a good parent, we are a proper family - if incomplete, I buy my child a sweet.

So I got her one and now I want to dig her eyes out with it and I told her not to keep any of it our name, Maria, our name and I told her not to litter and how many times have I told her to throw away her trash?

I did you a favour. Maria, stop crying. Don't give me your pain, don't you think I already know what it is? And I tangle her hair in my fingers – it doesn't look like mine, it's his genes that made her look like that, and maybe I might even see him again, all I need to do is keep our head up - and flick my wrist and her head almost cracks against the ground but doesn't. Maria, Maria, why - crack - won't - crack - you - thud, thud, dulling, my hand's slowing - learn?

I'm tired of this. I'm tired of tearing up books on the occult and screaming about how foolish everything is, it'll be the same in a few weeks. She'll find another trinket to enchant and place upon a golden pedestal – anything will do, anything, even a dead rat, because she can't see the world like a human– I'll beat her eyes back into place and then it'll be alright, won't it?

You weren't supposed to keep the ring, Maria, and you're not allowed to pretend you're a witch anymore. I've told you this many times. Many, many times.

And don't talk back Maria I was

Two hard slaps.

telling you why this happened.

She's nine years old why does she cling to those faded remnants of witchcraft those bits of magic that linger around the unreal?

Why do I cling to those bits of hope that linger around the unreal? I need to stop this. I'll set everything on the right path and hold her hand, lead her to the closest she can get to her Golden Land.

Maria, this is why you don't have friends, I just want you to have a good life, Maria. You can't be anything like me. I'm sorry, Maria, I'm sorry I won't hurt you next time. Hurting never does any good just look at me and I-I'll get you one of those pop-candy rings. Just throw them away when you're done, alright?

One day I'll give you something real you can believe in. When we're done tearing down this occult fixation.

You could read your schoolbooks, you're very bright, you could be the top of the class and everyone would respect our name, and maybe Mommy will get married this time and

Stop crying, Maria. Stop crying. Stop. Stop.

I said stop.

Why was she even

- slap -

born?

Umineko. FTW.

I dun really know if I like this story, but I like the ending.