My arms were red, burning, bleeding.

My fingers ached. They twitched. They wanted to go back to my arms and finish pulling my skin away.

I was calm.

Dad wasn't.

I stared at him, vacant and hollow, eyes blank. Everything he did, I watched like an observer, unable to move. Unable to break away and run and hide. He trailed his fingers over my arms, brushing over the broken skin with water. Even as it soothed away the burn–I wanted it back. Give it back.--it did nothing to stop my hitched breaths. Nor the attempts to move away.

Soft murmurs fell from Dad's lips. They were nonsense. They had to be. Strands of his aura twisted around my arms, and some entwined with my fingers.

They said he was telling the truth, that all the whispers were what he thought. And that was worse. How couldn't it be? If he's lying, then I'm just a weapon. If he's telling the truth (and how his aura wanted me to believe it)--

"Sorry," I choked out, before the thought continued. It made me want to scratch at my arms, pull away the newly healed skin. It burned, and so did the words in my throat.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice this?"

A harsh bark of laughter escaped me. "I forgot you were here!" I leaned over, head almost on the mattress. Looking at him hurt. It twisted my insides. Something soft pressed against my skin. I took the bunny and clutched it close. "I- I hate it when you make me sleep. I never know where I am when I wake up, and then I feel like I'm back in that forest with the wolves and Lupa almost killed me and- and-" The palace rumbled. "I had no idea who I was, where I was, and I was alone."

Dad choked. Firm hands wrapped around mine. He peeled my fingers back, slow and gentle, and I would clench them back down around my hair and pull harder. Part of me expected him to rip them away. He peeled my fingers back, slow and gentle, and worked his own underneath.

I looked at him. Tears trickled down my cheeks. His hands twisted, and they eclipsed mine. He stared at me, with a soft set frown and worried eyes.

"Don't do that," he said quietly.

"I don't want to be alone."

"I'm–"

"My friends are gone," I whispered. "And I'm alone."

Dad's face pinched. Ice. Cold. Even the water rippled with it, crystals forming before melting away. He schooled his features. Still, I could sense the tension spinning in the air, see it swirling in the water—it swept in, and it took everything in me to push it back— and feel it in his grip.

Try as I might to forget it, he was a god.

He was a god. And I had no choices.

Dad pulled me onto his lap. I didn't fight. Why would I? Why would I fuss or complain or protest when I didn't get a choice? I leaned against him, snuggled and curled into his arms. So long as I acted the part he wanted, he wouldn't get tired of me. He wouldn't throw me away. (The strands of his aura promised he'd never, but I couldn't believe them. Because if I did I had to believe them the first time.)

I didn't want to be alone.

Fingers worked their way through my hair, rubbing and massaging my scalp. I hissed when he touched certain areas, only to tense when I felt water heal the tender skin. More and more, I leaned into him. Every rule and every piece of advice I'd been given since I was twelve slipped away. My eyes closed.

I had no choices, so I made no choices.

Dad pulled me closer. He was the one to pull me towards his chest. Because why else would he coo over me? —Eyes fluttering open, I stared at the silk Hawaiian shirt. Fingers brushed the back of my neck. I melted— I'd done nothing to make him love me, to make him want me. All I've ever done is bring pain and suffering and–

"What's wrong?" he murmured. "You're shaking, little one." Dad shifted me. And then his hand wrapped around my wrists and he tugged.

(Blood on the floor. Blood on the walls. Too dark.

How long had I been here?)

I retched. The contents of my stomach spilled onto Dad's clothes. I offered apology after apology, until they were broken apart by sobs and whimpers.

"It's okay. Sh, little one, you didn't mean to." Dad moved me against the headboard and wiped my mouth and chin with a wet rag. "No need to apologize. I shouldn't have pulled on your arms like that." He smoothed a hand over my head. "I'll be right back, okay? You have your horse, so I'll know if someone tries to take you. Stay here." He stressed the last two words. I nodded.

The door clicked behind him. I slid to the edge of the mattress and leaned forward, head in my hands. A minute, then two. The stuffed animal didn't protest as I dragged it over by a leg.

Staring down at the horse, I stroked my thumb along the tawny fluff of its cheek. Light glinted from its beaded eyes, and blue motes floated into the air.

"Nobody would miss me if I died," I said to the horse. It felt good, to get it off my chest, to take that weight away. I huffed out a laugh. "Dad wouldn't." He hadn't noticed I went missing either. He hadn't looked for me after I left.

If splashing my foot in a puddle was enough for him to find me, then me having to lap at the fucking rabbit bottle had to given him where I was, what state I was in. He left me there.

The door closed; my head snapped up. Dad wore a deep maroon shirt, long sleeved and it looked soft. Horror painted over his features.

I looked away.

Clunk. He sat the soup mug he carried on the dresser. His aura tightened around me, pressing down on my arms, keeping me from moving. I pushed at it, pushed away from him. It didn't matter. Dad's hands caught my face.

"Look at me. No. Look at me, Perseus." His thumbs stroked over my cheekbones, once, twice. "Paidi mou," he said, tenderness filling the two words and enough for me to lean towards him. He moved his hands, letting me fall into him. The fabric was soft against my face. "My sweet little one, you are everything to me, and I never want you to say that again. I don't even want you to think it. I don't– I don't– Under no circumstances would I wish to have you dead." He sighed, long and exasperated. His hand rested on the back of my head. Fingers once again combed through my hair. "We've asked far too much from you, haven't we?"

"I'm fine."

"You thought I wouldn't care if you die."

"I'm a mistake," I said, shrugging as best I could. "You said so yourself."

"I–" Silence. "I brought you soup."

He didn't even bother using the door to leave. 

Paidi mou means my child btw, I can't remember if I've mentioned that before

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter and have a good day/night

See yah