Allies and Enemies (AoT Reader Insert)

Chapter 6: To You, Who Hated Your Life

Papa,

          I never knew much about you. You were gone for many days in my childhood and even more so when Aoi and Marie had disappeared. As a young girl, who was barely over five, I couldn't understand why you weren't around. I knew that you needed to work, that you were important, but I never knew why you couldn't be with me.

I just never knew why you couldn't bear to look me in the face.

Empty walls filled the spaces that once held mirrors.

Shattered glass littered the floor beneath the places where we once laughed and smiled.

Picture frames were all turned the other way. As if even looking at them would leave you just as shattered as the glass you left on the floor.

I remember when I had tried to pick up the shards of glass. I remember how you weren't there to help me pick up the broken pieces. Did you know that I ended up cutting my finger? I left blood all over the bathroom floor.

Mrs. Galliard had patched me up.

When I returned home that evening, you had assumed that I had been out playing.

With a practiced smile on your face, you thanked her. For a brief moment I saw concern on your tired face. I could tell that whatever you must have been going through exhausted you but that didn't mean that I didn't want you to do something - feel something.

You didn't apologize.

You didn't shout.

You didn't even look me in the face.

You left the shattered glass on the floor and the blood that stained the bathroom untouched.

It was cruel of you to leave a young child alone with their thoughts. It was cruel of you to make me think that you hadn't ever loved me. It was cruel of you because there was nothing else that I could believe.

Had I done something wrong?

Was I not the daughter that you wanted?

Your grief made you a coward. And your cowardice made you a horrible person, incapable of understanding anyone else's feelings apart from your own.

You left me broken and scared in a way that shards of glass never could. Your indifference cut deeper than the hate of the Marleyans. Your inability to even look at me left me thinking that there wasn't something to even look at; that I wasn't worthy of someone's attention. Your ability to hide your indifference left me thinking that there was no one that I could turn to.

Your failure as a father left me alone.

Alone and lonely in my abandonment.

Perhaps though, I would be able to find it in myself to forgive you.

When your memories became my own I could only find it in myself to pity you. I could no longer hate the man who left me behind. How could I hate you when you hated yourself so much more?

Honestly, I'm not too sure how to feel about you.

You were praised for your recklessness in battle. You were praised for almost dying - for leaving your last daughter behind - and it only encouraged you further. From your memories I can tell that you never once thought of me while on the battlefield. Of course not, it would've made you weak. The very emotion that they tried to breed out of Eldians so many years ago.

Yet, behind closed doors you cried.

You cried for the death of your daughter and you cried for the death of your wife. If only you hadn't been so reckless. If only you had been smarter, braver and more diligent then you wouldn't have been caught.

'Ifs' and 'what ifs' fill your thoughts constantly.

Your memories made me want to scream and shout. They made me want to cry and curl up in a corner. They made me want to end it all - just as you had wanted to end it all.

I fell into a pit of darkness and despair as your memories kept me from resurfacing.

I sit in the same study that you had. I sit there and pour over sheets of paper with incoherent scribbles and shapes endlessly. Just as you had. I write letters to the people that had left me behind, just as you had left an endless amount of letters to mom.

The letters you left had been tucked away behind a loose brick in the wall. Hundreds of them written for the love of your life.

I leave my own there now as well.

Perhaps as a memento to you. To every past you.

To the you who couldn't look me in the face because I reminded you too much of your late wife and daughter.

To the you who cried tears of joy when you held me in your arms for the first time.

To the you who had your heart broken.

To the you who had your head in the clouds.

To the you that never got to decide.

And, to the you who wanted to belong.

The red light of the sunset stains the walls of the writing room. The colour is so reminiscent of the blood that stained the bathroom floor. It's reminiscent of the blood that stains my hands. The blood of my allies, friends and enemies.

The blood on my hands that once belonged to you.

You hadn't always been this way. Mr. Elliot used to tell me stories about your acts of bravery. About how you had defended my mother when you were younger. About how you saved him on the battlefield. Many of your own memories that I had gained from you showed how happy you had once been.

Your descent into madness was a slow and painful one. You were someone who had always tried your best to be a ray of light. You held on tightly to your little flame of hope until you had burned your hands and extinguished the flame.

So pitiful.

It's a shame that you had to live such a pitiful life.

It's a shame that I will eventually have to pass on this curse to someone so similar to you.

As you neared the end of your contract, you wished for death. You wished to be reunited with your late wife and daughter, forgetting all about me. Sometimes, I wish I had never been your daughter, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you.

While sounding naive, I will always find it in myself to love those who can't love themselves.

No one should have to experience the same pain that you felt.

And perhaps, in another lifetime, you will be able to love the world that you live in.

Signing off, your daughter, (Y/n) (L/n).