Sorrow | 18+

27 His daughter

A song to listen to:

La fille by Loaune

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Vivienne, 2 years ago

I hated flying. The pressure in ears which didn't want to disappear even after excessive gum chewing and yawning. A seat in first class made it a little easier to travel, more private. Still there was a couple calling for flight attendants every 5 minutes, complaining about pointless issues which wouldn't matter in a 2-hour flight.

It truly was too short a flight as I wished I had not needed to board the plane in the first place. February was an odd month to see my relatives. I was a nuisance left for them after my father died. All the 14 year old me got was a short note, delivered to my teachers and handed to me: Your dad has passed away, his funeral will be held next Sunday. These two sentences were written for his only child. It was ridiculous, but I only felt bothered as I had to fly for the weekend. I had to act mournful in front of unknown people who probably didn't even like my father at all. I shed fake tears as I tossed roses to his grave. By Monday morning I was back to boarding school.

Uncle Bernand didn't contact me, he barely remembered to book the flights for the month-long summer break, the only moment students weren't allowed to stay at school premises. Four weeks I crouched in the bedroom I had called mine as a child. The same baby pink wallpaper with flowers and little animals were still on. I had stuffed my toys in one closet. My bed had been switched to a bigger one, one of the few things I had dared to ask from father as my feet had hung over when I turned 11.

Father had put me in boarding school two years after mother died, but he usually still made me come to the mansion on every school break. He had one dinner with me, asking basic questions about my school life. It felt like he was asserting my value and then he forgot me for the rest of my stay.

After the funeral, uncle Bernard basically ordered me to stay out of the way and said there wasn't enough time in anyone's calendar to look after me, which was why I should return home only on obligatory breaks. I stayed in a quiet mansion which I hadn't called home for years, not requesting anything from my uncle. He did make me attend two to three events during the break, some balls, dinners and charity galas. Whatever event was attracting people he needed to show that André Auclair's daughter was still breathing.

So it was my guess, I was on the plane either for a funeral of a family member or some stupid important event my uncle had to have me attend like a showpony. It wasn't a secret that Bernard lacked the support of inheriting the place of my father. I would've been a plausible threat to him if I had had penis between my legs.

He was a bastard son, 15 years younger than my father, who wasn't loved as a head of the Auclair family, but respected. How twisted it was, as a woman I wasn't considered as an heir candidate. Still my blood was purer as some liked to point out and Bernanrd had to show he had my acknowledgement. He needed my respect to receive it from others. And I happily gave it to him. I wanted nothing with my father's legacy, the Auclair crime dynasty.

I had only carry-on with me. My high hopes were to return back to school after a few days. I had taken only necessities, not that I even owned a whole lot of stuff. My long beige winter jacket was a high quality one, my black trousers and blue blouse as well. They were from a designer brand Zara was familiar with. In the boarding school we had school uniforms, jackets for different seasons, and outfits for gymnastic classes. We mainly used our own clothes while sleeping and on weekends. The first summer break from the school my father had given me one glance, asking why I looked like a homeless person in my unfitting clothes and with my answer he realised no one was making sure his daughter had clothes as she grew up. From that point forward I had an accountant in some stores to update my wardrobe. I could have seen as the rare moment my father cared about me, but I knew he cared more about the image I was giving to others.