Hi =) Thanks to all my readers (especially those that take the time to review!) out there! I'll try to keep pumping these out, but its starting to get busy, so please be patient! Let me know if there is anything at all that should be changed, I take others opinions very seriously!!! I own nothing except my imagination and Bella!! Please R&R!!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I was sadly mistaken if I thought he would change. His only comfort still lay with his piano, and he spoke only very rarely. I learned quickly not to disturb him, I learned to make my own food if he forgot or was lost in his music. We lived in the country, quite close to town, so I made small trips to the town, careful to be invisible and silent as I purchased necessities. I had also learned quickly how to deal with people at market. I had to, Father was no help, and he certainly couldn't go into town, with his masked face and disturbed mindset at the time. So the story was that I lived with my ill grandfather, who was too weak to even stand, much less make it into town. It held for a while, and if anyone offered to help, I politely declined, excusing that, 'my grandfather didn't like visitors, or anyone to see him so weak,'

I couldn't really understand what it was that had crushed my lively, genius Father so mercilessly. I blamed Christine. Oh, I blamed her for years, I loathed the girl, she had caused the destruction of my beloved father, and she was a demon in my mind. It was several years before my father so much as glanced at me again. I had everything I needed except Father's affection, and as it turns out, this is what I craved more than anything else.

I think I must have been ten, perhaps even eleven, when my father first called for me again. It was the middle of the night, and I was exhausted. But I heard him calling my name all the same. It had been many months since I last heard his voice, and I practically ran towards him. I quickly gained my composure, and stepped lightly and carefully around him despite my enthusiasm. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair uneven and greasy, his mask askew, but I leapt at the chance to be near him, to even be acknowledged was an unexpected treat.

"Yes, Father," I replied sweetly, smiling at him shyly and obediently. I was starved for his gaze, for his ears, despite my exhaustion.

"Bella,' he rasped, his voice weak and rough from lack of use, "Bella, sing that lullaby I used to sing to you, sing to me le cher petite. Calm your Papa." He reached out for me and held me close. I was numb with astounded bliss, but how could I refuse his only request, if it would make him feel better? So I sang as well as my tired voice would allow, I tried so very hard to please him, and he fell asleep with his cheek on my head as I sat in his lap. Soon I drifted away too.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I woke with her on my lap. For the first time in years, I hadn't dreamed that horrible nightmare. I looked down at her, gently sleeping against my shoulder. So this was what it took to be happy. To be truly happy. This was the key to starting again. If only I had realized it sooner. But then, at what cost to her was I freeing myself. I couldn't keep her awake every single night, she was just a little girl! She would crack and shatter at the immense self-control and work it took to train her voice. And I would never forgive my self if that happened. But I needed it even as her naive, untrained voice needed practice, it soothed me. And now that I had realized its potential, I couldn't live without it. Call me what you will, and judge me as you wish. I would never wish my daughter harm. Never. But how could I take care of her when I wasn't yet sane myself? The shadows of night whispered things to me I never would wish on my enemy. Even then. I stared off into space, listening to her heartbeat and gently brushing a tender curl from her tiny face to distract myself from the whispers as I ever so gently carried her upstairs to her room. She parted her mouth in sleep as I lay her head on the pillow and kissed her forehead softly.

I stood there for a moment, watching her sleep, all the while thinking of all the reasons I didn't deserve her. She deserved a father who could be there to care for her, a man who could let her go when the time came, a man who she needed, not who desperately needed her to survive. She deserved a real Father, not a ghost of a Ghost. She deserved a mother. And I could give her none of these. I couldn't comfort her as a father should, I couldn't be a strong figure in her life. I couldn't release her when she was old enough to fall in love. And I had failed in trying to give her a mother. I went downstairs, and, not being able to find the alcohol I so craved, I went outside. The stars were nonexistent, and the new moon in its absence failed to lighten my mood. As I returned indoors and settled into my accustomed place in front of my piano, still as furious as before, an enlightenment revealed itself. Perhaps it wasn't too late. Perhaps I could change, in time. I would never be what she needed, but I could at least try. And as I fell into my doomed sleep again, the voices drowned into silence, replaced by the sweet siren song of the one I had lost many years ago...

=) Review please!