Saartjie
looking back at it, i should have fallen apart
i can tell you the story of how i got these scars
i can tell you the story of how i got these scars
When she lifted Melita's head so the girl would look at her it was like looking into the eyes of a child. Saartjie could only imagine that Melita had been expecting the worst out of her -- yelling, screaming, shouting, name calling, blame ... everything she and Sunjata had been subjected to by the people their father had actively hunted, tortured, and killed. There was a vulnerability in the whispered thank you that pulled at Saar's heartstrings.
There was sadness, confusion, or perhaps it was both when Melita spoke again. Having to accept and admit that your father didn't want you was difficult, but it was something Saartjie, herself, had come to terms with with her own father. Most noble Korofi men only wanted children to carry on their family names and the ones that were the most heavily involved in political games only wanted children to use. Sunjata's purpose had been to be the perfect little soldier and her purpose was to be a bargaining chip. Marrying into another, wealthy, powerful family would result in more power for her father. Gaal was no different. He'd only wanted children out of her to use and that was the very reason she had denied him what he wanted most. Any children she had would be loved, not used in political games.
"He's the one that lost out on something precious." She finally said. Honestly, Melita wasn't missing much by not having Gaal in her life. It had likely saved her a lot of anger, frustration, and heartache to not have him there.
"What happened to him? How did you get away?"
Saartjie's hand fell to her side and she frowned as silence stretched between them. The questions, as simple as they seemed, held a lot of weight. How would the girl react at knowing that her father was dead? That she was the one that had killed him? The silence stretched on as she tried to decide what to say, but in the end it came out simply. "He's dead."
There was sadness, confusion, or perhaps it was both when Melita spoke again. Having to accept and admit that your father didn't want you was difficult, but it was something Saartjie, herself, had come to terms with with her own father. Most noble Korofi men only wanted children to carry on their family names and the ones that were the most heavily involved in political games only wanted children to use. Sunjata's purpose had been to be the perfect little soldier and her purpose was to be a bargaining chip. Marrying into another, wealthy, powerful family would result in more power for her father. Gaal was no different. He'd only wanted children out of her to use and that was the very reason she had denied him what he wanted most. Any children she had would be loved, not used in political games.
"He's the one that lost out on something precious." She finally said. Honestly, Melita wasn't missing much by not having Gaal in her life. It had likely saved her a lot of anger, frustration, and heartache to not have him there.
"What happened to him? How did you get away?"
Saartjie's hand fell to her side and she frowned as silence stretched between them. The questions, as simple as they seemed, held a lot of weight. How would the girl react at knowing that her father was dead? That she was the one that had killed him? The silence stretched on as she tried to decide what to say, but in the end it came out simply. "He's dead."
i was young and all alone
my heart turning to stone
my heart turning to stone
