Changes.
I thought life had been about changes. As a kid you think everything's staying the way it is. There is just 'IS'. No 'COULD BE' or 'WILL BE' or 'WAS'.
If that makes sense.
Then, as you grow older, you come to certain age where everything seems to change. You start observing the world around you with different eyes; you learn that things can be damaged beyond repair; you watch yourself grow and growing up. It changes. Everything changes.
Until you're old enough to realize that, in fact, nothing changes. Nothing ever changes but to the worse.
Life isn't about changing. It's about trying to stay who you are. And thereby you stay who you are.
I had loved my father. I guess I'd still love him if I'd exist properly.
And anyway, I don't even know if he' still alive. But I love him. I still love him.
It's never been different. Not after the things he'd said. Not after telling me that I should keep my legs closed at night. Not after telling me that I should tie myself up. And not even after telling me that I had beautiful legs.
"You've got such beautiful legs, Theta. Such beautiful and tempting legs."
I loved my father, really. I knew that he cared for me. I felt him caring for me; I'd felt his fear when he held me in his arms; I'd felt the pain and disappointment I was causing him; I've seen the abysmal anger and the interminable mournfulness in his tired eyes; he had been tired of fighting, he had been so weary of fighting for me.
And he'd always been fighting.
We'd always been fighting.
He had fought me in order to protect me. He'd showed my limits. He'd cut me down to size. And he'd put me into my place – he demanded of me to stay home at nights, to stop wrestling with Koschei and behave myself as long as others were around.
Because no one should be watching. And no one should have caught a glimpse of my beautiful legs...
I love my father. Really.
But I can't imagine anything worse than telling your own child that it had beautiful legs. Beautiful and tempting legs. I mean... tempting? Even if he was suspecting Koschei of assaulting me, even if he was worried that I'd be able to arouse feelings just by letting him see and touch my body while we were fighting and wrestling, well, even if he KNEW that Koschei had always been craving, that he had been craving me...
You just can't tell your child that it has tempting legs! That's just... Disgusting! And back then, I must have been thirteen or fourteen at the most, I totally misunderstood that.
My father had scared me by saying this.
I had been scared of him instead of being scared of whoever might be attracted to my legs.
But by trying to protect me... by his senseless and preposterous attempts of saving me he drove me deeper into the arms of Koschei; deeper with every night he'd scare me by telling me how I should protect myself against those who wanted to get between my legs.
And Koschei was there for me when I cried. I guess I cried a lot during that time. Not only that my ankles had been rubbed sore and my father had started punishing me physically if I'd dared to pick on the scabs in order to watch myself bleed... I had cried because I didn't understand him. And my father was dear to him. Just like Koschei.
There had been times when I'd thought that I'd loved them equally, him and Koschei.
And there's no sense in denying that I'd been pretty stupid back then.
But I had not only become accustomed to Koschei, no, it was more than that. He'd protected me. Well, at least it felt as if he'd protected me. He'd never been around when my father had slapped me in the face or when he'd dressed my wounds and had wrapped the bandages around my ankles so tightly that he'd made me scream.
But Koschei was there when I needed him.
And he'd always comforted me. He'd managed to scare away my fears and my worries; whenever I had been in dire need for him he'd been there for me.
It was strange, though. My father had always tried to protect me, at every opportunity, with every breath and every beat of his hearts; he'd wanted me to be safe. And all he did was scaring me.
Koschei had been there for me whenever I had needed him. He'd comforted me and cheered me up in order to keep me from becoming lethargic and overcautious; because then I wouldn't be no fun. He had to care for me; he had to take care for me; and I trusted him.
And all he'd wanted was to get between my legs.
And my father had been my protector and Koschei had been my predator.
To me my father had meant being strictly guarded while Koschei had meant freedom.
And I knew that my father wouldn't get tired of watching over me.
Beautiful and tempting legs... My father had called my legs beautiful and tempting.
I thought that... Well, I guess I thought that my father had been attracted to my legs.
Alright, I didn't think that. I knew that he'd never harm me. I had been closer to him than I had been to my mother and he knew that I loved him. He knew that I'd adored him. And I knew that he'd scare me unintentionally, only.
He never meant to do me any harm.
He simply did.
Just like Koschei.
He loved me; well, both of them did. Both of them shared their undying love for me, both of them loved me in a strange way, one way worse than the other.
My father cared for me the same way Koschei cared for me.
And both of them tended to scare me to death.
Comfort.
Koschei meant comfort to me.
At least until that bloody night when he'd made me choose between my body and my mind.
But, no. He meant comfort to me, even after that.
I was bound to love him. I was bound to be with him forever.
Like Siamese twins. We were forced to stay side by side.
Back to back. Staying like this forever. Not changing without the other one noticing.
Fused together and entwined by invisible shackle free bonds. No running, no escaping.
Locked. We were locked.
We were forced on each other.
We had no choice but to deal with it the way it was.
Koschei had been wrong.
Life wasn't about decisions. It was about acceptance.
But still he thought he could choose if he'd wanted to stay with me or not. But he couldn't.
We were closer to each other than anyone should ever be. Back to back. Like Siamese twins. Accepting each other's decisions, tolerating each other's existence. Getting through life without having a choice.
Together. Forever.
We couldn't help it.
Locked together.
And if one of us wouldn't behave then the other one would suffer as well...