Dark Star, The Forty-Seventh Chapter – Snowing

“Fetch me another one.”

That’s what Daddy said to me. The last words he’ll ever say to me.

Soon you’ll be dead. The voice calls out from the darkness of my mind. The beast is awake again.

Chill bites at my skin. It burns to touch. Shivering, I try my best to wrap myself up warm in my little princess dress. My ballet shoes are little protection against the white frosted ground.

I did as he bid. I went into the cold to get Daddy another body. “A small one, yay high.” I remember him measuring his hand up against me – shoulder height. So I’d know exactly how tall the next one should be.

The next piece in Daddy’s grand master piece.

“We’ll build the most beautiful toy.” Daddy explained to me with wide gesturing arms. I didn’t quite understand his vision. A big ball of snow. A world made by us for our own pleasure. It sounded magical. My Daddy is magical. He can do whatever he sets his mind to.

Then why isn’t he here for you now? Taunts from the dark.

I won’t give up on him. It wasn’t pretend. He loves me, I know it. He will protect me, I believe it. My Daddy will save me. Just like he always does. He saved me from the boys, from the toxic city and from the freezing cold of our yard. He will save me now.

It should only have taken a minute. Open the door, leave the latch on and run into the cold to retrieve one from our secret store.

Silly girl forgot the latch.

With a crack the door closed behind me, taking the warmth and light of our home with it. Leaving me here in the freezing cold.

“How long has it been?” I mutter to myself as another dizzy sway takes hold.

Hunching down even smaller I realise that my fingers have turned that beautiful blue of our captured creatures. I am blending in with the meat that hangs from the hooks above. Faint blue shadows swaying the breeze.

You’ll be one of them soon. My fate declared by the night.

“Shut up!” I croak with a misty cough. I’m just doing a Daddy trick. I’m camouflaging myself. Keeping myself safe from the monsters in the dark while Daddy comes to rescue me.

I can still see you… We see you suffering.

“Shut up!” I mouth silently. My voice taken by the freezing cold.

My vision blurs and flickers. The dark shapes of swaying trees and monsters and glittering eyes spark in and out of view.

In a heartbeat I am back in the yard, back under the jets of freezing water. How did I get here?

There’s Daddy, pointing the hose at me, washing my sins away. A baptism of agony.

Looking down, the clumps of the dead wash away with the blood. Is that my blood? Is my flesh falling off? I don’t feel myself anymore. How did I get here?

I can’t stop it, I can’t stop him and he doesn’t stop.

Why won’t he stop?

The track replays, the freezing water, the feeling of helplessness, deeper and deeper I’m consumed by the memory. It plays on and on, a living nightmare. I’m there again and I can’t get out.

The pain is unbearable. The cold bites at my everything, I feel my skin cracking, my lips splitting open.

Why is Daddy hurting me? Why is my Daddy hurting me?

Closing my eyes has no impact, the vision still rolls on. Daddy reigning his arctic blast of a lesson over my fragile skin. I feel my bones shatter.

Why is my Daddy hurting me?

“You’ve seen this before.” the voice whispers, the beast has a different prey these days.

Or is it a different beast altogether?

“You’ve seen it in how he treats them, the pets, the worthless meat-sacks. What makes you think you’re any better? That you’re different? That he won’t discard you like the poor fools who fail at his tasks?”

I’m failing. I’m failing right now. I failed.

How could Daddy hurt me?

“And this is how you die.” The voice explains as I’m stuck between two worlds, each with an all consuming painful delirium. I fight against the jets of water, flailing my hands in front of me, but it has no impact on the memory, the blast continues on.

Daddy’s torture.

“I took everything for Daddy.” I reassure myself, he loved me with his fists, tore me with his teeth and ripped me open with hardness that ached for days. I bled, screamed and suffered for him. Now I die for him.

Maybe then I’ll be good enough.

“Blade!” I hear Daddy’s roar from afar. White light blinds me. A warmth burns my skin. “Blade! The latch! I said…” I hear his sermon booming out loud above the tinkling voices of angels. “You could have died locked in the chiller.”

I shrug. “As it is meant to be.” I try to tell the vision in front of my eyes. The cold steals my words. My lips crack. I can’t even cry. It doesn’t matter anyway, figments of my twisted imagination have no hearing, no sympathy.

Unable to fight, even as warm hands scoop me up, I succumb to the cold.

I watch Daddy at work from the comfort of my nest, wrapped up in a thick woolly blanket next to the golden roaring fire. Every inch of me is covered in woollen clothing, I’m the epitome of mollycoddled.

He works with fast hands and deft fingers. My Daddy is so clever, building a whole new world just for us. Perhaps this world will be better, the last one was painful… I remember.

At least, I thought I did. Like the memory is just out of my reach.

I remember something, something I’ll need to think about soon.

Something I don’t want to recall.

I’m scared, although I don’t know what of.

Don’t think of it, just be good.

My heart races and I listen hard to the man’s actions, stacking lumps of flesh into the glass globe. I don’t know who he is, but I know him.

Do I know him?

“Ta da….!” He turns around with a flourish and hits a button at the bottom of the creation. Little frosty flakes mingle with glitter inside the glass bauble, they float around the human shapes, frozen in time and expression.

“It’s a snow globe Blade. A little family in a magical world. Just for you.”

Blade. That’s me. But that’s not my name.

What is my name? What was my name?

This is not my house and the people in that globe are not my family.

I’m a long way from home. I think.

How did I get here?

I want to go home. I think.

How did I get here?

“Thank you Daddy.” are the words that leave my mouth. Scripted words, pre-determined, my auto-response to his stimulus.

He beams at me. “That’s my good girl.”

I relaxed. Comforted. The backing track of distraction, of the thing I must remember and yet don’t wish to, can’t wish to, can’t cope with; the source for the crippling anxiety that wrenches my gut and screams to run, it melts away.

From within there is a silence, a proverbial lid closing, a heavy steel box with top firmly closed, never to be shifted. Was there some kind of animal here..? He is caged now.

That is all I must know. That I am good. That I am a girl. Just a girl with no cares in the world.

I am Daddy’s girl.

It is my part in this act and I commit to the role, I know the script and I read along. I do as he asks. I part my legs as he moves towards me, ready to take my praise and gratitude. I give it, bountifully, appreciative for the silence he affords. This man, who built this world just for me.

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