10-04-2015, 01:41 AM
 TAKE ME UNDERGROUND, TAKE ME ALL THE WAY BRING ME TO THE FIRE, THROW ME IN THE FLAMES Out of all of his children, Malis was the most of him—and it made his heart ache. The rest of them had inherited Oksana, either in their softness, their kindness, or even in their strength (except Pyxis who was an enigma to him with smiles that never reached her eyes), but Malis had inherited the darkness from him. There was the same haunted look in her eyes, the same stubbornness, the same penchant for the shadows. He looked at her and knew that she carried the same stones in her heart, the same weight on her shoulders. He hated himself for passing along his family’s personal brand of poison. So he can’t retreat when she collides with him, he can’t do anything but hold her closer, closing his eyes against the shattering in his chest at her pleas. His breathing is ragged, her presence both a balm and a burn. She should be with her mother, her siblings—anywhere but here. She should hate him, he thinks—although, at the same time, his soul cries out with joy that she, for reasons unknown, does not. “Malis,” he murmurs, his voice jagged on the edges. “I won’t leave,” he promises, although he knows it is a foolish mistake—and one he would pay for later. “But you can’t tell Oksana. You can’t.” He pulls away and the secrets between father and daughter are open for the world to see. “She has to hate me.” He closes his eyes, grimacing, “She deserves that.” He leaves it at that, because he knows that she will understand. If anyone in this world was to understand the complexities and monstrosities of his heart, she would. |