I loved watching your eyes.

They were strange eyes—like Swiss chocolates, only

they were gray. They were soft, calm, soothing. As

gray and endless as some ocean that exists only in our

minds—that only exists between us when I look at

you and the morning comes slow as a lifetime passes.

And yes—-yes, they were strange!

I could see myself in them—reflected somewhere,

perhaps bleeding between the shards of violet glass.

I could envision myself huddled in a corner in the

back of your mind, lost in the feline grayness that I

could not escape. I wonder if somehow you sensed my

presence. You must—you must. You would not look at me

that way if it were not so. Yes, that way,

your eyes welling with sadness and the pity that I

both despise and adored. Then why did you not tell

me? Those twin silver shackles bind me with a power

that with all my grace and beauty I can not break.

God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Yes, yes, for I worship only you…only you. That is

not as it should be…or perhaps, it was all along

predestined that the master should be enslaved by the

servant. That the meek should inherit every shred of

sanity that he still retained. Odd. How the tables

have turned, my dear cherub. You admire me, look up

to me—your father, your maker. Of course. That is

how it should be. But you fail to notice that there

is nothing left in me worthy of your unfaltering

admiration, your immortal loyalty.

I examined myself in the mirror today.

I looked the same as ever, yet for some reason I was

disappointed in the visage that gazed back at me. I

felt that somehow, I should look different.

Luminescent, perhaps. For surely some of your light

would have been shed upon me in that moment of

closeness. But no…the closeness was all mine. Only I

perceived it. For the look in your eyes was of a

wild, savage fear. Fear—that I was accustomed to.

But there was something else lying in wait for me,

there in the bottomless well of your eyes.

Disappointment. Disappointment in what, perhaps?

That our kiss was one of violence, rather than

passion? No…rather, of disappointment in me. In my

failure. In this hideous, wretched shell of an angel

that I have become.

For that moment, your light was extinguished.

I stood naked, open, before the mirror. Many moments

passed. I ran one hand lightly along my stomach,

tracing a faint line along the shadow beneath my

ribcage. My likeness was one of a child, I observed.

Delicate ivory hair rippled over my shoulders to brush

my thighs in a waterfall of pure molten silver. My

build was slight, fragile, begging to be held by you

alone. I focused first on my forehead—the proud, high

structure. Elegant. Royal. Moving my sight

downward, I studied arched white brows and cold,

hateful amber eyes. I So unlike yours /I . Sharp

cheekbones accentuated the cruelty in my gaze, as did

a fine-bridged nose and the sensuous curves of my

full, crimson lips. My neck was slender, finding its

base between prominent collarbones. My chest—smooth

and hairless, the ice-pale skin fading to rosy nipples

and—once past my hipbones—disappearing beneath a cloud

of gentle curls.

So it had already begun.

My hands slid along my thighs to rest at my shins as I

crumpled to the ground, pulling my knees up beneath my

throat. This proud, once flawless body, reduced to a

wispy, prepubescent ghost.

I could understand, now, why you had seemed so

astonished to see me in this form. It was so unlike

my previous one. You seem to have inherited that.

The broad shoulders and strong form I used to possess

appear to have been passed on to you.

You've grown up, Katan.

I rest my forehead against my kneecaps, digging the

tips of my long nails into my ankles. Yes, you have

grown, my child. And as you have grown, I have faded

away. Your soul has expanded into a compassionate,

beautiful being, while mine has been reduced to little

more than a pathetic monster.

Yes, things have changed, haven't they? The father

becomes the son, and it is the child who seems to see

far more deeply than I ever could.

"I want to be like you, Rociel-sama. One day, I

will be. As strong, as powerful. And then I'll

protect you! You won't have to worry about anything,

ever again. You'll see, Rociel-sama. I promise."

Why do things have to change? When did this

alteration occur? Who stole your innocence from you,

Katan! Who shattered your spirit?

And then, as soon as I ask the question, I already

know the answer.

The one who broke you, who tainted your purity and

took advantage of your unconditional loyalty, twisting

you so that your child-spirit could match your adult

body…the monster who ruined you…the bastard who stole

away your innocence….

….It was me.