Daddy's Little Angel
I was so young. So innocent. But that girl, who I used to be... She is the past.
It was a warm spring morrning, just before the summer. School had already let out, so I was home to do whatever I pleased.
I was so young.
I had never been afraid of death. Unlike the other little girls. I was only six years old. What did I know?
I was so innocent.
But on that warm spring morning, my innocents was stolen. My youth ripped from my small hands. That morrning...
Stating the Obvious
1. Being cold and warm, having body heat. And a pulse, and a heart that didn't feel like a rock in your chest. To not have blood being pumped through my veins by machines.
2. My mother. She died when I was three. I can't remember her face, or her voice. But I do remember how she used to smell like honey.
3. People other then my mentally insane father.
And when I say he's mentally insane, I do not exaggerate in the slightest. Daddy is a smart man, I will give him that. But he is crazy. Who in their right mind would rob their daughter or the one right every single living creature is promised?
I sighed and unclasped the jumper cables from the metal bolts on my neck. Shuffling across the clothes ridden floor to the body mirror leaning on the far wall, I dread the sight awaiting me. Neat black stitches cover my body. Two shiny bolts jut out from my neck. I stretched out my arms to wake up more. Large white, feathery wings followed suit. Thanks you crazy bastered, I thought to myself. What sixteen year old zombie has wings? I sighed again, long and exhausted. Of course, breathing was useless. I had a pump in my chest, where my heart used to be, that makes the blood and medications flow through my veins. My blood didn't need oxygen. Even though I did have blood, my skin never lost the greenish hue death's kiss had given it. I fluttered the wings. that I hated so much, slightly. I already couldn't go out in public due to the fact I was legally dead and that I was held together by thread. But all hopes my "heart" could have ever dared about the outside world faded when I stretched my feathers.
I moaned and shook out my messy hair. My hair was a boring shade of blond so light, that I would never need to bleach it. The door opened soundlessly, while I on the other hand sounder like a herd of elephants as I stomped out of my room and down the stairs.
"Ah. There's Daddy's little angel!" My father smiled and held out his arms to me for a hug. I gave in the cold shoulder, sitting down at the far head of the dinning table. His smiled grew pained instantly and he walked over to me with a covered tray. "Time for breakfast" he sang.
I moaned inwardly.
He uncovered the try which held syringes of all shapes and sizes. I tuned my right shoulder to him and pulled away the sleeve of my superman night-shirt. A small circular valve gleamed on my inner shoulder.
"Why such a sour mood, pumpkin" he asked, injecting me with a chemical cocktail of medicines.
"Oh nothing father, just wanting to enjoy the sun." I sang bitterly. He sighed.
"Please... What happened to my little princess? My sweet little girl? The one who was always happy?" he finished injecting me and looked at me with sad and tired eyes. Sad and tired, yet sparked with insanity. I stood up so fast my chair flew back into the wall. I stormed up the stairs to my room.
"Darling please!" he begged, chasing after me.
"You want you little girl?" I asked turning on him and opening my door, "Well she's dead!" I stepped inside and slammed the door in his face.