Six Feet

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The screams of pure pain filled the air. They had been filling the air for hours.

The room, despite its high ceilings, felt suffocating and cramped.

And then all of a sudden, the cries of an infant graced the ears, shattering the suffocating pain.

You remember it so vividly, the midwife giving you the child amongst the chaos of the room.

You held her close, rocking slightly, your arm running up the length of her back to cup the back of her head.

Her eyes were piercing as she gazed into your soul.

She was perfect.

"Hello, Inesa," You whispered, blinking away your tears of exhaustion and love.

Father appeared at your side and held out his hands. You carefully transferred the infant to him. His face was softer than you had ever seen it, his eyes broken and filled with ecstasy as he gazed at his newest family member.

"Hello, sweet girl," He murmured, smiling down at her. It wasn't often you saw Father smile, let alone smile with no hindrance or fakeness attached to it. "Welcome to the family." Father smiled at you. It reached all the way up to his eyes. You managed to smile back. "You have a wonderful older sister," He started to sway back and forth. You bit your tongue. Today, your victory was the birth of Inesa. You didn't need another one.

As you watched the midwife putter around in your peripheral, drinking in the sight of your father, your spiteful, hate filled father, pouring an ungodly amount of love into this perfect little thing, you made a promise to yourself.

I'm staying alive. For her.

***

Mother's death was a shock to you all. No one expected her to die, especially so close to Inesa's birth. She was completely healthy, albeit emotional distress, but nothing else had happened, no chronic or rapid condition had appeared.

Father didn't want anyone at the funeral, and in that moment you knew that he lied when he said Mother passed away in her sleep. When he didn't cry, you knew that he had done something.

Your father was a curious man if you sat down and really thought about it. Powerful. Abusive. Cunning. A horrible father. But a good husband. Before you and Voras, according to Mother, he had never hurt her, or the people he loved. Because he did love Mother. Or at least he used to.

He didn't cry. So the world cried for him.

Rain poured down on the four of you, staring at a stone pillar headstone, Mother's name etched in vertically, a hologram of her laughing above. She looked young. Happy.

Father stood in the middle, with the two of you on either side. Voras stood silently in his black suit, but you could see the difference between the rain and the tears streaming down his face.

You had cried, a little. But as you rocked the carriage that Inesa lay in, looking up at you with big eyes, all you felt was numbness. You glanced down at Inesa, making sure the baby girl was covered from the torrent downpour. She stayed quiet.

She stayed quiet the entire time.

Father went inside first, filling the foyer window with him and a drink.

You went in next, knowing Inesa would require your attention soon, the baby only a few weeks old.

A few hours later when you had put Inesa to sleep, you glanced out her bedroom window.

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