"Can you do like one of those Greek myths?" –Smoldering Blue Eyes
This is based loosely on the Greek Myth of Myrrha/Smyrna. The myth details the incestuous relationship between Myrrha and her father, Cinyras. Myrrha falls in love with her father and tricks him into sexual intercourse. After discovering her identity, Cinyras draws his sword and pursues Myrrha. She flees across Arabia and, after nine months, turns to the gods for help. They take pity on her and transform her into a myrrh-tree. While in plant form, Myrrha gives birth to Adonis.
This is a version of dark, it made me squeak a bit. Sensitive topic of (sort of) incest and morality in general. Inspired by the movies, Womb and Never Let Me Go.
Caroline lives in a house by the sea. It's small and made of wood that smells of salt, the blood and flesh of the ocean long carved into its bones. She can count the length of her room with her feet, twelve steps from the window above her bed to the wall where her bookshelf and all her numerous books about adventure and magic can be found all neatly arranged.
Beside that wall is the door that when she opens it leads her to the living room. There's a beat up brown couch and a small TV, a coffee table with coffee stain rings and old Classical books are scattered on it, in haste for when her father leaves them after reading at night.
To the left of the couch is the door to her father's room. His room is bigger than hers but sparser, less things in the room, a bed, a small end table with a clock, a lamp and a wardrobe. Nothing more, nothing less.
To the right of the couch is the bathroom and beside it is the kitchen. There's an old stove, long blackened from age and use, a fridge just a tad taller than her, a table and two chairs with the other chairs sat against the wall for the rare, occasional guest.
There are no paintings on the walls of this small house, nothing expensive, nothing that would interest anyone who dare take a peek inside. There are the drawings Caroline has made, of her and her dad, of the sea beside them, of their tiny home but nothing else. Life is small and simple like their home.
Caroline never complains.
Caroline likes to ask questions. She has always been a curious child and her father neither encourages nor discourages. He will answer a question if asked him but he will not offer any answers readily. Her father is a quiet man, she has no complaints. She thinks it makes him wise especially when he has an answer to any question she may have from history to science to semantics.
Her father is a man of intellect and knowledge.
Especially for someone as young as the women at Caroline's school would say. Teachers and mothers of classmates would often whisper about how such a young man like Caroline's father could be so responsible to raise a four year old girl on his own. Surely, he must be lonely without a wife-
Remarks and inquiries are often shut down, not quite rudely but enough to assure them that Caroline's father likes to keep to himself and please do mind your own affairs.
Still, it does make Caroline also wonder.
"Why don't I have a mother?" Caroline asks him one day during breakfast. He's made her favourite pancakes, strawberries and cream. And he wipes at the whip cream on the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
He is nonplussed as usual but is obviously not pleased at having to be asked this question. "Why do you ask, sweetheart?"
"All my classmates have moms," She says. "How come I don't?"
Her father sighs quietly but answers, he always does. "Your mother died when you were a baby. She died when you came into this world."
Her young mind tries to process this and nearly feels her chest quake at a thought. "Is it...my fault she's dead?"
He is quick to reassure her, cupping her tiny chin so he can look into her eyes as he says. "No. Never think that. None of it is ever your fault."
She smiles warmly at him and returns to her breakfast.
Caroline loves to takes bath, enjoys the smell of soap and the suds on her skin as she sits in the porcelain tub. She likes to pretend she is a mermaid, trapped from returning to her true home, the ocean. She will stay in the tub till her skin begins to prune and that's when her father will enter the bathroom.
She will stand up and he will cover her with that large, fluffy pink towel she so loves. He will dry her hair with another towel as she asks him to tell her a story about mermaids, sirens and all sorts of underwater creatures. He tells her of the myth of Persephone once and how the nymphs that were supposed to watch her were turned into sirens by Demeter so they would forever be forced to find the spring goddess.
"And do they find her?" Caroline asks.
Her father's eyes are tender, touch even more so as he towels her hair. "No. They never do."
Caroline is ten when a new boy moves into town. His name is Vic and he has bright blue eyes and sun-kissed hair. She meets him by the beach where he is watching the ocean, shivering underneath his coat, unused to the chill. He is from a city far away from her seaside town and he has the sweetest smile she's ever seen.
"What's your name?" He asks her with that smile she will never forget.
"Caroline." She smiles back in return.
He asks about the ocean and she tells him the story of a little mermaid who falls for a human and even when every step feels like walking on broken glass, she still dances for him.
"But why did she dance for him if it hurt?" He asks.
And she smiles. "Because she loved him,"
Later, their fathers would come to look for them. And Caroline's father greets Vic's father curtly, not uncommon but there is a frostiness there that usually isn't. "Matt."
"Kol," Vic's father with the same blue eyes and the sun-burnt hair would stare down at her with a haunted look in his eyes she will not understand till much later. "Is this..."
"My daughter," Her father's hands protectively wrap around her. "Caroline."
Vic's father looks at him quietly, jaw set for a moment before gesturing to the boy beside him. "My son Vic."
Her father nods and then turns her away to bring her back to the house.
Caroline is fourteen when she begins to see her father in a different light. She gets up really early one Sunday to find her father cooking breakfast like always and instead of taking her seat at the table like usual she stands by the doorway and watches him.
She studies the way his hair is cut, the stubble on his jaw, the hints of skin she sees when he reaches up for something, the wisp of his cologne she can faintly sniff and just the overall masculinity of him. So different from her where she is soft and feminine, he is hard and all-man and she wants to explore those differences even more, with her hands, with her mouth.
When he notices her staring, he smiles at her. "What's with the staring, sweetheart? Take a seat. Breakfast is almost done."
She does as she is told but her eyes never leave his and she continues to watch him move until he's seated in front of her and eating his breakfast. She watches the way his jaw works as he chews and imagines his mouth on hers.
His dark eyes stare at her oddly for a moment before he flicks a piece of egg at her. She shrieks as it gets into her hair. "Dad!"
He laughs before taking a sip of his orange juice, the bob of his Adam's apple is almost hypnotic and she eats her breakfast in silence.
Caroline is sixteen when Vic asks her out on a date. Her father is not supportive but doesn't deter her either. "Be back before ten," is all he says when Caroline tells him that Vic has invited her to a concert in the neighbouring town.
Caroline is glad her father trusts her but also a part of her is annoyed, annoyed that he doesn't react more. Shouldn't he be angry that a boy has asked her out? Instead he acts nonchalant and lets her do what she wants. She knows other girls would've been ecstatic but she can't muster up such an emotion.
She silently fumes as she takes a bath, not even able to muster up a fantasy of a lost mermaid. Instead she thinks of all the things she can do with Vic on their date and how she will make her father so angry, he will react and he will not be so emotionless for once in his life.
She gets up from the tub when she begins to prune and puts on her pink bathrobe. She leaves the bathroom and finds her father on the couch, reading Poe.
She wants to ask him to tell her a myth about the ocean, about young goddesses who fall for alluring men, about forbidden love shunned by all. But she doesn't. She keeps her mouth shut as moves past him to get to her room.
She turns at the last minute to see him staring up at her, his reading glasses in hand and his hand paused on his book. She shuts the door behind her quietly.
The concert is horrible. Caroline hates being around so many people. It is crowded, sweaty and dark and she wants to leave immediately. She stays for Vic who jumps around and sings along loudly to every song.
His arm is wrapped around her the entire time lest she gets pulled away in the crowd and she breathes in his sweat and cologne and lets it anchor her. When it ends, he buys her a soda and they walk to an empty playground nearby. They sit on the swings and Vic still lost in the thrum of the concert, hums a song.
She keeps quiet and sips her soda idly, the cold air on her perspiring skin the only comfort she can find. She wants to go home. The homesickness is nearly killing her and she hasn't even been gone more than a couple of hours. But she says nothing though not when Vic smiles at her like that and she can't resist his smile.
"Thanks for coming with me." Vic tells her. "I thought you'd say no. I know how much you don't like leaving town."
"It's okay." She says and knows he won't see anything wrong. Vic despite all his sweetness never knows it when she's telling a lie. "I had fun."
"I'm glad." He takes one of her hands in his and squeezes. His palms are so warm and a little damp but she lets him hold her hand. "We should do this again sometime."
"Yeah..."
She stares up at the sky and tries to shake the headiness off. The stars look less bright there and she can't quite see all the constellations. She hopes her dad is outside on the porch, watching the stars and worrying about her. She hopes he is counting the minutes till she is home.
"Caroline..."
She turns her head to find Vic staring at her. Those blue eyes of his are like the sky on a good day, not grey but blue, so blue and he reaches forward to touch his lips against hers. She doesn't close her eyes though but lets him kiss her with such hesitancy and tenderness she can't pull away. He sighs after a moment and then retreats.
He stands up, his hands in his pockets. He doesn't look at her as he speaks. "You don't like me like I like you, do you?"
She fiddles with the tab before pulling it off and tossing it away.
"No," Even she is not that cruel to lie to him about that. "You're my best friend."
"I know." He bows his head before letting out a loud sigh. "I guess this could be worse."
"How?" She asks, curious.
"I could've told you when I was in love with you," He answers. "And the rejection of that would've hurt even more."
He turns around and gives her a bemused grin before offering his hand to help her up. "Let's go home."
Her father is not on the porch when she arrives. He is inside, reading another book and she lingers in the doorway, wanting to throw something at him. What would it take for him to care?
"I'm home." She says quietly and he glances up for a moment before returning to his reading.
She moves closer to the couch and takes off Vic's dark grey jacket. Tucking it into her arms, that quiet rage inside her just begging to get out and give this man a piece of her mind. She wants him to be angry. She wants him to hurt.
"Vic kissed me."
His hand freezes mid-turn of a page and there's a tick at his jaw, someone else would've missed. He waits quietly for her to continue and she does with relish. "He asked for another date."
He closes his book and looks at her finally. "And?"
"I said maybe." She shrugs with a grin. "I like him."
He blinks, once, twice. His jaw is clenched so tightly, she can see him grinding his teeth. "I...see."
She smiles at him, all sweet cruelty she sees the girls in those movies give and goes to her room. Vic's jacket is pressed tightly to her the entire time and he notices.
She invites Vic over for dinner one time. Vic still looks at her with adoring eyes like a puppy she nurtured and loved before abandoning on the road but he knows better than to do anything foolish like confess his feelings.
Her father is unhappy at having Vic over. He didn't mind when Vic was eleven and more interested in the newest gadget his father brought home but now that he is a teenager who keeps staring at Caroline like she is some lovely mythical creature...
Caroline delights at her father's discomfort.
She makes a show of giving Vic all her attention, giving him subtle touches as he chattered on. Vic likes talking and Caroline happily lets him as she rubs circle on his knee with her nails and plays idly with the loose hairs at his nape.
Her father's jaw is locked tight throughout the entire dinner and when Vic excuses himself to use the toilet after, her father nearly breaks the dishes when he moves to wash them. He washes them quickly, tension in every movement and she relishes in this. Her father is angry and there could be nothing better.
She wants to cross the distance from the sink to where she's standing against the table, to turn him around and pull him down for that kiss she's been craving since she's fourteen. She wants to trace his jaw with her fingers and run them in his dark hair. She wants him to want her as she does him.
She moves towards him, every step slow but deliberate and her hand hovers over his shoulder before Vic is back. She turns around to smile at the boy and goes to him as he thanks her father for dinner. Her father waves him off and Caroline leads Vic outside.
Her father tries to make it look like he's not bothered but Caroline stops right outside the porch where her father can get a good view of them. He can't look away even if he wants to.
Vic says something, always talking and she shuts him up with a kiss. It's clumsy and unrefined but it does the job. Vic's hands are on her back and she lets him stick his tongue down her throat before she pulls away. "Good night, Vic. See you at school."
She quickly gets inside and her father is still by the sink, hands tightly grasping the counter and she imagines him breaking it so easily like it's nothing. He doesn't look at her and she goes to her room satisfied.
Her seventeenth birthday comes and Vic insists on a small party, inviting their friends at school. Her father lets her have it even though he's been nothing short of sullen the past few months. One of her girl friends bakes her chocolate cake and she blows out the candles as everybody claps. Vic kisses her cheek and she forces a smile out.
Her father is in the corner, drinking a glass of red wine. He rarely drinks but right then he nurses the glass like mother's milk and she wants to laugh.
They make her open presents next and she smiles at the tiny trinkets everyone gives her. She gasps quietly at Vic's gift – a plane ticket to New York.
"I thought we could check out the NYU campus tour. It's this weekend." Vic says. Kind, sweet, thoughtful Vic who doesn't know how horrid this gift is and he takes her hand in his. "Come on, Care. Please? It'll be fun."
Her gaze instantly goes to her father who looks like he wants to slam his wine glass on the table into tiny, irreplaceable pieces.
"Dad?" She asks, quietly.
And everyone turns to her father in silent question.
He is quiet for a moment before refilling his wine glass. "You should go." He tells her without looking at her. "You've never been. It's a great idea."
She wants to shout at him. But it's not a good idea. It's horrid, completely horrid. And it would ruin everything,
"See, Care?" Vic tells her, eyes bright and hopeful. "We'll have a blast."
She wants to smash his face into the birthday cake but just smiles back, feeling her teeth ache with the effort. "Of course. It'll be a blast."
New York is everything opposite of what she is used to. Vic loves it. She hates it. But she lets him drag her to the NYU campus and the goes on the stupid tour she wants nothing but to avoid.
They are taking a glimpse into a classroom, the class being taught something she guesses is history when the professor turns around to see them.
The tour guide smiles, "This is Professor Alaric Saltzman. He teaches American History."
The professor gives a friendly smile at them before his eyes land on Caroline and his expression falls, shutters like blinds. In the next second he is back to teaching though like nothing happened. The tour guide leads them out of the room.
Caroline lingers at the back when a hand grabs her arm. She nearly jumps but calms somewhat when she sees it's just Professor Saltzman.
"Caroline?" He says like he is shocked to see her, like he knows her. "Is that really you?"
She blinks at him, confused. "I'm sorry. I don't think I know you."
He stares at her as realization sets in. "You have no idea who I am?"
She shakes her head slowly and he hisses a dirty word that it makes her eyes go wide.
"I'm sorry. This must seem strange." He pulls away from her. "I have to get back to my class."
She watches him leave and feels something in her flare to the surface, something like doubt.
When she makes it home, her father is watching an old, black and white film on TV. And she takes a seat beside him on the couch, not bothering to take off Vic's jacket.
"How was New York?" He asks, not taking his eyes off the TV.
"Horrid."
"NYU?"
"Even more horrid."
He grins slightly but doesn't say anything more. She takes this the time to ask him about that strange professor at NYU who seemed to know her, who knew her name, who seemed surprised to see her. "Something weird happened though."
He turns to her for her to elaborate and she sees it, that glimmer of fear in his eyes, fear that she knows something she shouldn't, something he's hiding. "One of the professors seemed to know me. Funny thing is...I don't know him."
He swallows but tries to act indifferent as usual. "Really? What was his name?"
"Alaric Saltzman." She catches his slight startle. "Do you know him, Dad?"
He shakes his head. "No, never heard of him."
"Dad," She tries to intone. Something is going on here and she wants to know. "Do you really know him or not?"
"Sweetheart," He grasps her hands in his, dark eyes focused on hers, trying to make her believe him as he had done when she was four and asking about her mother. "I don't know him."
Bullshit. She knows he's lying but he's not going to voluntarily give the truth but she knows she'll get it out of him sooner or later. Whatever her father is hiding, she'll find out.
She smiles at him, sweet like sugar. "Of course, Dad. I believe you."
She finds out one day when her Dad leaves to get something in town. She pretends to be sleeping in and waits for him to be miles from the house before she sneaks into his room. He never locks it and she is grateful for that now as she tries to find something to illuminate the mystery surrounding her father.
She looks under the bed and aside from some socks, finds nothing. The wardrobe is the only other place and she pries through his clothes, sweaters, pants and boxers until she finds a small wooden box.
She takes a seat on the bed as she examines it. It's made of cherry wood with white and yellow flowers painted on it. There's no lock and she opens it slowly, her heart thumping quickly in her chest in anticipation. Her eyes widen at what she sees.
They're photographs of her father and her. Except it isn't her, she doesn't remember taking any of those photos. She looks about the age she is now but the dates on the back of photos were dated the year before Caroline was born.
This could be her mother. She looked exactly like Caroline does now. This was the woman she'd spent her life wondering about and there she was in those photos. And Caroline is the exact replica of her.
She hears the front door open and she leaves the bedroom to see her father in the living room, wearing his thick coat and his hair windblown. His eyes widen when he sees what she has in hand. He quickly takes the box and the photos from her, despite her protests. "Dad, what's wrong?"
"Where did you get these?" He shouts and she winces.
"From your wardrobe," She answers warily. "Look, I'm sorry I pried but all I found were photos of Mom."
He freezes at that, eyes looking down to the photos in his hand and an odd weight falls to her stomach.
"She is my mom, right?" Caroline asks. He looks back at her and a sorrow and fear that frightens her makes her want to start shaking. "Dad?"
He moves past her and takes a seat on the couch, still not letting go of the box and the photos. "I'm so sorry." His voice is so low she could barely hear.
"Sorry for what?" Caroline is almost afraid to ask but she pushes on. She moves to kneel before her father and places her hands on his knees. "Dad, what's wrong?"
His mouth opens and closes before he answers in a voice shredded by sorrow. "I just wanted her back."
"Who's her?"
"You – Caroline – I don't know!" He gasps out, shaking. "Everything is so fucked up! I did this! I fucked this all up!"
"Dad?" She is so confused. "What are you talking about?"
"She died – Caroline and I just wanted her back," He tells her, eyes wide. "Gloria said she could bring her back but it didn't work out as I thought it would. You were a baby but you were still my Caroline and I- I just wanted you back!"
He is nearly sobbing now, tears in his eyes. "I just wanted you back."
She gets to her feet, trying to make sense of what he just said. "What- what am I? Who am I?"
He looks up at her with glassy eyes. "You're an echo."
She tries to take this in but her mind is failing her, unable to process such a thing. "An echo?"
"You're a copy of the original Caroline," He says. "I just wanted her back."
She feels tears coming to her eyes and she can't stand anymore, she falls to her knees and she cradles them to her. Her father – no, Kol – whoever the fuck he is – tries to envelope her in a hug but she pushes him off, running to the bathroom and locking the door.
She's in the bathroom, having discarded her clothes and hugging her knees to her chest in the bathtub. For a second she tries to pretend she is a mermaid and all those stories he told her when she was a child were true. And she pretends her entire identity and life isn't a sham, a lie.
Someone knocks on the door. "Caroline?"
It's Vic. Kind, sweet, thoughtful Vic who only loved her for her and not because she is just an echo of somebody else. But then again, what parts of her isn't 'Caroline'?
"What parts of me, are her? And what parts of her, are me?" She mutters to herself as Vic continues to knock on the bathroom door.
"Caroline, please open the door," He says. "Please?"
She could just imagine his blue eyes pleading for her to open the door so he can fix whatever is wrong. But he can't fix this, nobody can fix this. She feels so broken and confused she wants to drown in that tub.
"Go away, Vic!"
"Caroline, please!"
"Go away!"
She hears him walking away and she sinks back into the tub, thinking about just drowning herself there.
Who would miss an echo anyway? Is she even a real person? Is anything of her real? She doesn't know and she doesn't want to think anymore.
There's a knock, a lot less forceful than Vic's, more timid and she knows who it is. "Caroline?"
God, she hates his voice and she covers her ears to try and block out what he's going to stay. But he doesn't say anything but he doesn't go away, she can feel his presence through the thin wooden door.
Something inside her withers and dies before coming back to life, that rage inside her now coming out for her to use and discard as she wishes. She rises from the tub and doesn't bother to put on her robe.
She slowly makes her way to the door and opens it, Kol's expression morphing from remorse to shock as he sees her naked before him. Desire follows but he tries to hide it, she knows better though. She's been catching him looking at her like that for months and she only knows the true extent of it now.
She is dripping but he doesn't move away when she wraps her arms around him and pulls him close for a kiss. He doesn't reciprocate for a moment before his arms crush her to him, his grip just a tad bit harder than she'd like but it's alright. She wants this to hurt.
Her hair is dry and when she's wiped the blood from her thighs, she goes to her room, dresses and packs her things. Kol's sitting on the couch in just his pants and she eyes him indifferently, too much pain and anger now burnt out living nothing but an empty shell.
"I'm not coming back." She tells him and he swallows, nodding.
He doesn't say anything else as she moves past him and out the door. She makes her way down the beach in her thick coat, bag in hand. Vic is standing at the shore and his blue eyes, so blue and pure stare at her in question.
She stops before him and hugs herself as her own armour. "Take me somewhere far away."
He offers his hand and she takes it.
"Love isn't soft, like those poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close." –Stephen King, The Body (1982)