Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga and am not Stephenie Meyer.
A/N—These are four drabbles strung into one, detailing Mr. Brandon and how he feels towards his daughter. I consider this an overprotective father (and maybe I twisted it a little differently from how most people assumed he was…). I was thinking, and I wondered what it would be like if Alice's father hadn't been entirely energetic in the 'disposal' of his daughter. What if he hated letting her get shipped to an asylum? This sprung from that idea.
It's the same format, actually, as my previous one—"Resolution", starring Edward. The multiple drabbles-in-a-row format is becoming a new favorite of mine. :) Enjoy!
Words: 400
Challenge: The Lock Up Your Daughters Challenge from The Challenge Forum. Featuring an overprotective father, 100 words to 10 chapters, and no time limit.
Infancy
Sunlight barely peeks through the window. Early dawn.
I can see her, lying on her bed. Still exhausted, due to the birth of our daughter. Our little baby girl… My daughter, cuddled close to my wife's breast, is silent. Sleeping. The baby makes not a single sound, and as I lean in, I can see her tiny face.
She looks—is—so delicate, her health faring poorly. The doctors are uncertain how long she will stay with us.
One glance solidifies my resolution, entrusted only to the heavens.
She survives, and I will bend every will to keep her safe.
Childhood
For such a sick infant, my daughter's joy as a young girl is staggering.
She is loud, plays energetically, and her manners—impeccable, but not enough. When she becomes a young woman in my household, I must have more expectations of her.
Yet…the memories of her sickly self betray my judgment. She is a happy child. Who am I do deny her happiness? It hurts no one. Her mother disagrees, but I have an oath to the heavens, made from my daughter's 'death-bed'.
What is safety without joy? She simply must have it to live.
But no boys for friends!
Adolescence
Smoke fills the parlor. No one enters—they are forbidden.
My wife is solemn, stubborn: the doctors are right, she is right, I was wrong to doubt. They know how to save my daughter from her demons… And I desire only my daughter's safety, her salvation. But I cannot forgive my wife for this treachery.
Yet to speak the truth would condemn her. It is the last bit of love I can offer her—the permanence of a false death. There is no love in my marriage. None.
My wife longs for the lie.
I long for my daughter's return.
Adulthood
The cemetery is empty. None here live, save I.
My heart beats alone now. The empty grave is no longer empty according to them—or possibly is, and her body lies elsewhere. Unmarked, buried in a mass pit. My heart aches at the thought, burns fiercely. Another lie is certainly possible.
Her name is traced on stone, but it is not her hand. She had such beautiful writing… I saved a scrap of it. Proud to have given her the education…
Ashamed that I did not save her. I gave my trust.
I broke my vow.
My safety was meaningless.
A/N—So, as you can see, I played off Mr. Brandon as a father who loved his daughter, and ended up listening to the doctors and their professional advice instead of ignoring the beliefs of that day and age. As is shown in the last two shots, he loved Alice and didn't want to see her gone and hurting, but he didn't know what else to do—I mean, she had visions, and that's something normal people have a hard time handling. And in the last shot, he's mourning how he couldn't protect her, couldn't keep her safe. I theorized that if Alice was a normal girl, her father would have been overprotective of her, and this is a play on him having tried to be the typical father to her—overprotective—and failing to keep her safe from dangers that he thought he could keep her safe from.
Thanks for reading!