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
Dead.
There was a finality to it, admitting that someone was dead whether you loved them or hated them. Saying it and hearing her, his daughter, repeat it was ... inescribable. Saartjie waited for some sign, hint, or clue as to what the girl was feeling, but aside from the slight widening of her eyes she didn't give away much. It left her to wonder if it was a blessing for Melita that her bastard father was gone or if she would be angered or saddened that now she would never get to know him -- even if he had made no effort to try and find her himself. Melita's gaze fell to the sand and Saartjie's concern grew.
Then the question came. A single, one word question that held such an enormous weight that it seemed to make the very air around them thicker, heavier, and harder to breathe. Every memory of that night were seared into her memory -- from the verbal to the physical aspects of it all. Her eyes closed as it all came flooding back and she swore that she could smell the stench of blood over the salty sea air and taste the metallic tang of it on her lips. She could still remember the way he gurgled as he struggled to breathe and how it slowed and turned into gasps before he finally fell silent.
When she opened her eyes again she looked at Melita, struggling to find a delicate way to say I did it. He died by my hand. I murdered your father. How would she react? Would Melita hate her for taking away any chance she might have had in the future to form some kind of bond with him? Would she be grateful because he was gone and would never search for her and he would never be able to use her?
"I did it." Saartjie finally admitted. "I did it to protect my brother. Gaal had already hurt him horribly once before and he was going to try and do it again." And she couldn't let him. She couldn't let him track Jata down just to torture him again. Seeing the life that Sunjata had created for himself in Caido, the little piece of happiness he had carved out for himself .... Saartjie was satisfied with what she had done. With Gaal gone there was one less person out there trying to hurt him and if that meant she had to carry Melita's hatred on her shoulders that was fine.
There was a finality to it, admitting that someone was dead whether you loved them or hated them. Saying it and hearing her, his daughter, repeat it was ... inescribable. Saartjie waited for some sign, hint, or clue as to what the girl was feeling, but aside from the slight widening of her eyes she didn't give away much. It left her to wonder if it was a blessing for Melita that her bastard father was gone or if she would be angered or saddened that now she would never get to know him -- even if he had made no effort to try and find her himself. Melita's gaze fell to the sand and Saartjie's concern grew.
Then the question came. A single, one word question that held such an enormous weight that it seemed to make the very air around them thicker, heavier, and harder to breathe. Every memory of that night were seared into her memory -- from the verbal to the physical aspects of it all. Her eyes closed as it all came flooding back and she swore that she could smell the stench of blood over the salty sea air and taste the metallic tang of it on her lips. She could still remember the way he gurgled as he struggled to breathe and how it slowed and turned into gasps before he finally fell silent.
When she opened her eyes again she looked at Melita, struggling to find a delicate way to say I did it. He died by my hand. I murdered your father. How would she react? Would Melita hate her for taking away any chance she might have had in the future to form some kind of bond with him? Would she be grateful because he was gone and would never search for her and he would never be able to use her?
"I did it." Saartjie finally admitted. "I did it to protect my brother. Gaal had already hurt him horribly once before and he was going to try and do it again." And she couldn't let him. She couldn't let him track Jata down just to torture him again. Seeing the life that Sunjata had created for himself in Caido, the little piece of happiness he had carved out for himself .... Saartjie was satisfied with what she had done. With Gaal gone there was one less person out there trying to hurt him and if that meant she had to carry Melita's hatred on her shoulders that was fine.
i was young and all alone
my heart turning to stone
my heart turning to stone
