kotlc oneshots!

daughter

Jolie,

We met her today. She looks like you, and I'm a mess. It's been sixteen years and every single day, all five thousand eight hundred and forty of them I've walked past your door and tried to stomp out the sliver of pink-tinged light that escaped from underneath your door. Tried to discard that last little piece of you, so small yet it takes over every waking and slumbering moment. Purple always was your favorite color. You just loved to flaunt yourself around. Just out of reach.

There is dust on your doorknob. Sometimes I look at it, and I think that some of the dust is gone, replaced by a fingerprint, the rough turning of the knob. I go and inspect it, knowing that neither of us would have the courage to go in there. But your lovely long fingertips haven't touched that damn metal knob in five thousand eight hundred and forty days. And I know it.

I don't quite know what to do about her. Her hair is the same as yours, and she's got brown eyes. You always wanted brown eyes.

The Vackers came with her. She was so small. So afraid. I couldn't blame her. The two of us stood there, watched her, and I know both of us were fighting tears. Your mother especially. You know how she always valued others' opinions. No way she would let our possible daughter see her weakened. Yet.

-

She's here. She's taken over the third floor. I think it's a good thing. She's not as much like you as I thought. Keeps to herself more. Though, if you were thrown into a brand new world, what would you think? How would you act?

But I guess you already know. How are they treating you up there?

-

Today, we planted her tree. We were so close. We didn't sign the papers. You would be ashamed, Jolie.

-

She came home. Was it your doing, Jolie? Did you have anything to do with this? I feel like a human now. Talking to a person who might not even be there.

But I think you're there. I feel your taps on my shoulders. I hear your voice when the wind whistles through the trees. Smooth. Sweet.

-

I haven't written in a while. I'm sorry for that. I haven't forgotten about you, promise. If you're here, you know there are some things to worry about.

She keeps almost dying. I'm not a young man. I noticed my ears have the slightest, slightest point to them the other day. I'm too old to be dealing with this. But she calls me Dad. It's worth it.

I was wrong, Jolie. She is like you. Passionate, intelligent, determined. Falling for the wrong boy. He's going to do her wrong, Jolie. It's painstakingly familiar. Sickeningly familiar.

When you died, I hope you didn't see him. Crazed, fire blossoming in the palms of his hands. Because I saw it. And if my daughters have to see that in their lover's face, of all people...

-

I would just like to tell you that we have stopped crying. Your mom's hands don't shake when I mention your name. She's free now. You would be so proud. Your dresses are gone; your makeup as well. Don't feel forgotten, though. We've got your picture on the mantle.

Mom emptied your room. Your sister helped. I think it really brought them closer. We're complete now. Not the three of us, the four of us.

Family. It really is all that matters.

And, by the way, your doorknob is clean.

Goodbye, Jolie. I love you.

Dad