They say that on the solstice, the past will come back to haunt you. As the dead will rise again, countries and civilizatioms that have long been dead will rise once again showing their best he worst sides for a second time.
"Lied? What lies have I told you?" He questioned in a dangerously calm tone. He raised an eyebrow, now staring me down.
I almost lost it, but I controlled myself. I simply responded with a throaty growl in his direction, the same kind he'd do two those he loathed.
"You made me into your little hollow-headed slave." I seethed under my breath, kinda hoping he would hear it.
Father tilted his head to the side in confusion. He leaned back into the sofa, seemingly admiring the comfort.
"You are far from hollow-headed, my son. May I say, you are quite intelligent." He assured, smirking.
I giggled a little at his response.
"All you even kept me for was to make me your slave, you hurt me mentally, thank you." I stated, half-heartedly, forcing a Smile.
Father suddenly looked up at me, his attention shifting away from the carpet. He sighed, contemplating his words carefully.
His gazed loomed over me, I didn't want to break eye contact. I couldn't break eye contact.
Father's ocean blue eyes glistened in the tart yellow lamp light of the now setting sun, they were hypnotizing, almost seductive, in away.
Although, I could not help to notice the tinge of sadness buried in him. The eyes are the windows to the soul after all.
"Son... You say you know me..." He vouched, springing up and slinking around the living room.
"You know, that if I don't want something... I throw it away." He circled me in my chair like a shark.
"I am hurt, that you think I'd do anything to harm you ?" He questioned, pouting.
"Yes..." I muttered.
"Is that the blunt attitude you'd give to your own father, is it son?" He had come to a stop behind me after his minutes of pacing.
"I, the person who took care of you for 16 years? I, who dealt with your bullshit ever since you were a child, I, who spent my precious time caring for you and your sister. Is that the attitude you will give to me?" I felt his breath tickle the back of my neck.
I felt extremely uneasy, his presence was bad enough.
Father's voice had risen significantly, so much so he was almost yelling. But once again that sliver of sadness returned.
"Besides... If I had the plan to hurt you, I wouldn't have made you."
"Even if, I would have had you out of the house before you turned 4." He calmly remarked after his fit of yelling.
"Still..." I shakingly said. My breathing hitched, as he walked out in front of me and knelt down.
"Still?" He pondered gently, reaching out a hand and stroking my cheek it was warm and reminded me of when I was a child, my eyes watered up slightly.
"Still... You're a lunatic. You killed millions of people. You're a murder." My voice was cracking and giving in.
Father stroked my cheek some more, now placing his free hand on my own, squeezing it with a sense of wholesomeness.
"Now, now. Don't we forget poor Hannah..." He explained, smirking in my direction. I was abruptly hit with horrifying memories. Memories I wished to erase from my life for good.
I broke down in tears, I brung my legs up to my chest and sobbed into myself, collapsing inwards, into a crying heap in a chair.
I felt the embrace of something warm, something I hadn't felt in many years.
Father had his arms wrapped around me and layed is head on mine. I was too overwhelmed to react.
He hushed my sobbing, stroking my head as he did when I was a baby. I felt a sense of security with him hugging me.
Through teary eyes I stared up at him.
He grinned sorrowful and sympathetically, tenderly kissing my forehead.
"It's alright son... Papa's here.
A/N
And... Short again. :')
But, We've seen Third Reich. I tried to portray him as best as I possibly could (I don't know what a "good" representation of Reich is in this fandom anyway.)
How are you guys enjoying the story so far? I want to know to see if there is anything I need to change. :)
Also, I won't be explaining who Hannah is in this book. I'll make a Oneshot about it in World of mayhem later.
Aight. That's all.
Hitler's birthday present:
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
