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That's what encourages me to write :D enjoy
Koschei didn't speak to me about it ever again. And I'm afraid he hadn't even realised that he'd disturbed me.
That was the trouble with Koschei: he was stuck with his twisted little mind. No intuition. No sensitivity. No empathy.
Just narcissism. And childish joy in displeasing others.
I hadn't slept in days.
But I had tied my ankles together at night, as always.
I had tried not to think about the sentience it had initiated.
It.
Koschei's apple on my thighs.
I had thought about it for a while.
Koschei's lack of understanding for other's emotions brought back memories from my childhood.
I indulged in reminiscences for the first time since I'd been on the academy.
Oh, bloody memories they were!
My father had hated Koschei.
He'd despised him.
Koschei had always been associated with trouble; he meant trouble.
Nobody knew what the trouble was. It was simply there, all around him, glowing and twinkling all the time. In every glare. In every glance...
Chaos.
I'd always thought that I must have been a deep disappointment to my father for spending time with Koschei, someone who'd treat me with no respect but cared for me nonetheless somehow.
But years later my father had explain that he hadn't been disappointed. I was simply like him, he'd told me; always looking for trouble; loving to keep yourself challenged.
Otherwise he wouldn't have married my mother and, with her help, raised a little mistake.
He'd chuckled while pointing that out. He'd never called me that before.
It was usually my mother's duty to call me a mistake.
But just a little mistake.
The big one had been falling in love with my father, I knew.
I never knew what Koschei thought of me. I didn't even know if he ever thought about me.
I sure thought a lot about him.
I'd be there, in my bed, lying night after night worrying about him; what's the next stupid thing he's going to do; when was the next time he'd disturb me; when would he finally take control over my room...
I didn't know what Koschei thought. But I knew what he saw.
In me he saw a small, delicate toy; the most precious object he'd ever tried to take possession of. Somehow he always enjoyed when I would spend time with him.
And it was so exciting to play with me. He'd try everything just to come to know what I was capable of. What he could try on me. Or when I would say "No" to him for the first time in my life...
Or if I'd never say "No" to him...
My father had watched me sleep at night, which wasn't actually as weird as it appeared to me when I had found out. I might as well have done the same thing in his stead, I guess...
But I was in no position to talk about it. Neither I am now. I just didn't...
Back then it felt creepy. It felt really, really strange knowing that your father watched over you at night. I didn't feel protected. I felt observed and traced; always knowing he'd keep an eye on me...
No matter would I'd do.
Not that I did anything indecent.
Alright; at this age I probably didn't even know the meaning of this word.
But I wouldn't have done it anyway.
I figured that my father was still checking on me if I was still tying my legs together at night like he'd wanted. And I didn't know what to do about it apart from ignoring him.
I just pretended to sleep, hoping he'd soon leave me alone.
I didn't understand why he kept looking after me. I never would have disobeyed; I never would have spread my legs for anybody.
I didn't even know what the point in spreading your legs for someone else was, back then.
And I'd have preferred never finding out...
The Doctor looked up. There was someone. Someone stood beside his bed.
"You sure you're alright?"
He could hardly understand a word. He simply shook his head.
The blurred silhouette beside him offered him something which turned out to be a cup of tea.
The Doctor didn't move; he felt too dizzy.
He got pulled into an upright position; the cup was pressed against his lips.
"Open your mouth."
An order. He hadn't taken orders since Koschei had...
"Doctor please, I'm begging you. You need to drink. You're dehydrated. I'm here to look after you. Please, let me help you!"
The Doctor nodded weakly. The voice sounded softer than before. Still, he wouldn't recognize the voice.
He took a sip of the tea. Then he opened his mouth again.
"You're... human?" he asked uncertainly.
"Of course I'm human" replied the voice softly, "Don't you know me, Doctor?"
"You humans don't say Chester cat, no, it's not Chester cat around here, is it, what do you say, what terms do you use when you want to describe someone who grins as madly as a Chester cat?"
"You're body temperature must be rising again..."
"Just answer me!" shouted the Doctor hoarsely "What do you say?"
"It's "grinning like a Cheshire cat, Doctor."
The Doctor let himself fall back into the back and sighed.
"Bloody humans" he mumbled half asleep "bloody humans get everything wrong..."
I guess my father knew it, back then. He knew that I loved him and followed his instructions. He knew that I'd never let him down.
He was simply not convinced that he'd done the right thing.
He had chosen to keep the prophecy his little secret. He hadn't talked about it with anybody, not even my mother. He had simply made a decision.
My father had chosen to leave me in the dark concerning the things he'd seen.
The things that would happen to me.
And just like I had offered resistance the first nights when he had tried to tie me up my father tried to oppose destiny; he wanted to change the future; he wanted to do anything he could to shield me from the cruel fate that awaited me.
But it wasn't just a strange quirk of fate. It was destiny.
It was meant to happen like this.
At least that's the only way it makes sense to me.
It couldn't be prevented.
"Who not learns from history is doomed to repeat it."
I can't remember when I'd encountered that. I had read a lot of books back then. I was really into literature, I guess.
But the idiom contained a grain of truth.
All over the past people had tried to change the future; they had tried to avoid the unavoidable.
They hadn't accepted their fate but couldn't alter it anyway.
And yet my father believed that he could succeed. He believed that he could have won;
But in the end we're all at fate's mercy.
Oh father...
I had hated it; I had hated hearing my father breathing beside my bed night for night. Sadly I never got used to it. I simply never could sleep.
Therefore I heard him mumbling; the soft murmur every night. The same subject over and over again. The same issue: Koschei.
"I never should have done it" my father would tiptoe around in my room though he was furious "I never should have made him do that. It's just wrong. It's not his fault. He can't help that. He's not the trouble. It's all Koschei's fault."
And I would lie there in my bed and listen to the strange mumbling night for night.
"I wanted to protect him" he'd start again "I wanted him safe. But I... it's too early, isn't it? Shouldn't I have waited until he would have been old enough, until I could have explained why...?" He breathed in deeply and stopped beside my bed. I tried not to move a muscle.
My father caressed my cheeks carefully. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see him smiling.
"I'm sorry" he had muttered, he had apologized a lot during those nights "I'm so sorry. But I don't know what else I could have done. You even got used to it, didn't you?"
I breathed out slowly, uncertain about whether or not he had realised that I was wide awake.
But he continued unmoved.
"Of course you got. Because you want me to be proud of you. You'd do anything no matter what it is, no matter how stupid it is, or how stupid I am..."
My father had sobbed. He never would have let me see him cry.
"I'm just so sorry" he had continued and I had felt hot tears dripping down onto my cheeks "I never had wanted it to end like this. I never... I just couldn't... I can't let you, when you're..." His voice was trembling; either with fear or anger; I never knew.
"Koschei is always beside you. He'll never leave you. He'll never leave you alone. He'll never stop; he never knows when to stop. Even if you would say "No" to him... he wouldn't stop. He would just go on and on and on until it's over. And I can't... I can't let that happen to you... I just can't..."
My father had kissed me on the forehead.
He had kissed me a lot during those nights.
He wasn't the type to show his own feelings openly; I figured it had something to do with the whole "being normal" thing. He was my father and therefore he wasn't supposed to spend time with dealing with my emotions; or with his own emotions as well.
But he had always been the sensitive one in my parent's relationship; he was the sentimental parent, not my mother.
He was too emotional to be a father.
I guess he should have told me about it. Maybe then I wouldn't have been so upset...
But back then I knew that my father was the one I could turn to if there was simply anything I felt uneasy about. The only thing he wouldn't explain was the sense in tying ropes around my ankles...
But knowing that my father would come to my bed night after night and guard me in my sleep sure made me feel insecure. I never slept again under the stars accompanied by friends on one of the giant hills nearby like we'd done it during the warmer nights.
I was simply too scared; even though it was, like I had assumed, without a reason.
But after all it was my gut feeling and I trusted my convictions enough.
I can hardly remember when I'd slept a whole night under a starry sky again.
I can't even remember if I did that ever again.
Maybe I should try if the fever was ever going to go down again...