Chapter Two

Shilo walked through the large, shadowy house like a ghost, as if she were seeing it for the first time. The hallway was softly lit from the lamps on wall brackets which lined it. She had opened the heavy drapes which had remained closed for so long, letting gentle sunlight trickle in, casting dappled light on the ornate rugs that lined the dark wood floor. The sunlight looked strange, out of place. The trees around the house prevented the majority of the sunlight from streaming through the smudged glass of the windows. But still, it looked different in natural light. Unfamiliar.

There was an odd oval pane of glass, broken, near the end of the hallway, on the wall. Shilo frowned slightly, touching the metal ring that framed the glass. There seemed to be a small room behind it. She'd never noticed it. Hadn't there been a hologram of her mother here? A strange one which had given her chills, it seemed so lifelike, wearing a black veil as if she were mourning. Shilo had never inspected it properly back then, it gave her a creepy feeling under her skin so she had avoided looking at it. Now there was only an empty space, smashed glass. It made her uncomfortable to look at it, this strange empty cavern. A question that could not be answered now. She was once again overwhelmed by a longing for her father. Her eyes burned, raw from crying, yet it seemed she had many tears left, waiting to be released.

Daddy...

She padded lightly into her father's study, a place she had sometimes entered on her brief ventures from her room, those times she picked the lock on her door. It had felt so taboo back then, caused her a small thrill of excitement, of rebellion. Now, it just felt sad and empty. So did she. She ran her hand over his desk, the dark wood was old and smooth. His computer, various books and assorted stationery littered it. She eased herself into his chair, curling up, legs tucked under her, and resting her cheek on the soft, cushioned headrest. The velvet was old and tattered but it was soft, and she felt close to him there somehow. She imagined he was there now, that she were in his lap. Imagined she was in his arms. She screwed her eyes shut tighter, trying to block out all other thoughts. She imagined she could smell his cologne, imagined she could feel him breathing. It brought back a torrent of memories. Tears escaped, making the velvet of the chair slightly damp.

He always tucked her into bed after her bath. Had done since she could remember. Tonight was like no other, she crawled into bed and he sat down beside her, smiling softly.

"Do you have to work tonight, daddy?"

She cuddled up next to him, and his strong arms found their way around her. With his index finger he traced gentle patterns on her arm He smelt lovely, felt warm and secure. As trapped as she often felt, prisoner to her bedroom due to her blood disease, she could appreciate moments like this. Longed for this affection, felt tingly and happy when she could be close to him like this.

"No, Shi." He said gently

Shilo drew back to look up at him, her small hand reaching out to rest on his chest. She could feel his heart, it seemed to be beating especially hard. He touched her cheek, leaned down to her and kissed her softly, chastly. His lips were soft, warm. He drew back but lingered, his lips near hers. A small smile twisted at her mouth, quirking one corner, as she gazed at his eyes that were such a pale green and so full of love.

Yet there was a seriousness that overtook his face as he drew further back from her, ceasing touching her.

"Dad?" She said it in a small voice.

"This isn't..." He faltered, looking at her and seeming so sad, suddenly.

Shilo felt a jab of annoyance, and a frown creased her forehead. That anger that bubbled beneath the surface in her, all the time it seemed, felt hot and threatened to overcome her. She knew it alarmed him when she could jump from being bubbly and obedient, to suddenly angry and unreasonable. She knew because it sometimes alarmed her as well. He might think he had a tough time having to deal with having a raging bundle of emotions for a daughter, but he should try being one!

"What would your mother think?" He looked horrified as he spoke these words so full of emotion, voicing that which had clearly been bothering him for some time.

They had already crossed the line into the taboo territory of sex, weeks earlier. He was still struggling with it, clearly. She had never understood sex, had never understood any of it. Now she did. She understood why it was called making love. What they did seemed beyond physical, to her. Love wasn't just a noun. It was a verb. To love. To be loved. To show love. I love you, meant so much more than she had ever imagined it to mean. She understood that now.

"I love you." She said, biting back her anger, nestling into his arms and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

Please, see me, love me.

He seemed to sigh as he leaned into her, clutching at her, and she felt his shoulders shake a little. Was her father...crying? She was crushed against him, he was gripping her upper arms tightly. It hurt. She made a noise in her throat as he squeezed her tighter, his shoulders still moving in his silent sobs. He was hurting her. She was suddenly afraid, and began to tremble.

"Dad..!" Her voice was a little higher pitched than usual, and it shook.

Don't be someone I don't recognise!

He seemed to come back to himself at the sound of her voice and he slackened his grip on her. He moved back and she saw his cheeks were streaked with tears. He looked sad and vulnerable, something she rarely saw in him. Her fear evaporated. All she felt now was intense love for him. She moved forward, put a hand on his leg. She kissed his cheek, tasting his salty tears on her lips. He didn't move away as she kissed him again on the other cheek, then further down, to the corner of his mouth. Her father was a good man, she knew that, as he smiled at her in his melancholy way, tears drying. And he loved her. She knew that as he pushed her back on the bed, kissing her deeply. He straddled her, gently kissing her neck. She knew that he was a kind and loving man, as he pushed up her night gown to reveal her pale body.

"I love you, I love you..."

It's a frantic whisper, and his breath is hot next to her ear. His hands are moving over her, exploring her, enticing her. He was her world. She knew that as he moved against her, illiciting breathless moans from her. Her eyes were bright and burning. She knew he was a good and wonderful man, as he made love to her.

She rose from the chair, her bottom lip trembling. She blinked rapidly, and walked out of the study. She made her way towards her bedroom. She hated to be here now, hated everything it represented. Hated the place she had been sequestered in. It brought up too many sad feelings about her father. Brought to mind the fact that he kept her here. To love someone as much as she loved him, yet to know they had done something like that, was the most painful feeling. All those years she had longed to be outside. Little did she know, so little did she know.

And she realised now, that she would be leaving soon. Knew she couldn't stand to stay here, to live here without him. She wasn't sure how she was to go about it all, but a plan was slowly forming in her mind. Her blood stained black slip dress, from the opera, was laying on the floor in the doorway of her room. Vaguely she remembered shedding it there, flinging on a night dress, then going to her father's bed to sleep. Bloodstained. With his...

She moaned quietly, sorrowfully, wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, staring at the crumpled slip. Realised that she hadn't showered when she got home. His blood was on the backs of her arms still, just a few flecks here and there. Much had flaked off but she could feel the roughness. An almost masochistic urge not the wash it off tantalised her mind, but she knew that was gross and insane.

Her wrist communicator began to beep and a female electronic voice announced [Incoming message from Lila Reshaldo.]

Shilo was confused, she had no idea who that person was. She frowned and pressed the 'accept' button the side of the watch-like communicator. A small, bright hologram of a middle aged woman was projected from the communicator, turning slowly in the air. Shilo looked at her in confusion, as the message began to play.

"This is a message for Shilo Wallace. My name is Lila Reshaldo, Attorney at Law. I need to speak to you in regards to the recent passing of your father, Nathan Wallace, and his last will and testament. Please come to the Genova Complex, Lot 783A, Sector 7-E, at 9am tomorrow morning. You can reach me at -"

The message continued to play, as the woman listed her phone number. Shilo's expression was blank. The woman ended the call with the standard line about being 'sorry for her loss'. It all seemed rather crisp and uncaring to Shilo. She turned off her communicator and made her way to her bathroom to shower. She felt nauseated again, and also hungry. Which was an odd combination of feelings, added to her grief and the shock of getting such a formal and - it seemed - callous reminder that her father had died.

She stripped off her night dress, stepped out of her underwear.

(Black cotton underwear, he used to look at her with such lust, slide them down reverently, utterly enamored....No don't think of that.)

She slipped off her wig and got into the shower, turning the faucets on. The water was cold - she didn't care. She stood under the rushing cold water, feeling numb even as her body shook from cold, trying not to notice the blood washing down the drain, unsticking from her shoulders and arms.

But she did.