The Phantom's Daughter [On Hold]

Lillian

September 29, 1913

Today's my birthday, I'm turning 13, almost an adult. I woke up early as I do everyday to fetch water from the markets. We don't have a well since we live on the Coney Island, Phantasma, a place of wonders, full of freaks. I skip around the markets wearing my best dress, but it was uglier than Elizabeth's worst one. It was a blood red, that wasn't very attractive, like me. I wore my black boots that where worn and scruffy. But they were wonderful to me. I also grab eggs, fruits, vegetables, and meat, I over heard Father talk to mother about some rich people coming over for dinner, I would probably be sent to my room, while Elizabeth and Gustave got ready for the big dinner.

I set down my pen and stroke the right side of my face and feel the twisted flesh on my cheek. A tear rolls down my face as I close my leather journal. I slide the old book away from me and slide off my shoes. I sit on my mattress on the wood floor. I burry my head and wrap my arms around myself and start to shake. I knew that I was ugly. Black hair, brown eyes, average, but the right side if me was hideous. Twisting flesh, where you could see some of the muscles in my cheek. I had scars that lined my cheek to my jaw. Hideous, even on Coney Island. I was a freak. I don't hate freaks, I respect them, but me, a Devils child. My Father never forgot that, he reminded me, and refused to say anything to me unless it was an order. My sister Elizabeth, despised me, hated being seen with me, that's why I would where a small hat that had pieces of black fabric hanging on the rim. Others thought it was fashionable, but it was really to cover up the side of my face. Father wore a mask, and whenever we were out in public, people would start to say how adorable it was, cause they thought I was copying him. I saw that he would grit his teeth and hug Elizabeth tighter. Mother, Christine, would notice, but Father would grab her hand and pull her towards him. I always slowed down so it would look like I was alone, but Gustave, my dear older brother would grab my hand and we would walk together down the pier. I wondered why he didn't seem fazed by my face. I start to remember about my birthday. I got nothing from Father and Elizabeth, but Mother got me a violin, which Father muttered about how he would rather hang himself than listen to me play. Gustave bout me a new pair a shoes and some ribbon so I could tie my hair up. I hugged both of them and started crying. Mother rocked back and forth while Gustave had a kind smile on his face. He looked so much like Father, but he was much nicer.

"Do you want to go out to the beach?" Gustave asks.

"Yes, that would be lovely. Let me get bathing su-" I start.

"No. No swimming. If you swim it would look odd that you are swimming with a hat on. And you are to never take your hat off in public and never around me." Father, Erik, snarls.

"I'm sorry. I'll just walk along the beach." I bow my head.he starts to walk toward the doors.

"Father," I see Father stiffen when I called him that,

"What?" He stops walking, but doesn't turn around.

"Why do you wear a mask?" I feel Gustave tense behind me and I regret asking the question.

Father spins around and comes at me. I slowly edge toward the door.

"Don't you ever ask me why I wear a mask." He growls and my hand finds the door.

"If you do, I will lock you up in your room an won't let you come out till you rot and turn just as ugly as your face." He spits out the last words and I see his hand come towards me. I duck and see his hand hit the wall with a loud thud. I twist the knob and run out of the house in my socks. I keep running and don't stop till I'm at the edge of the pier. I wasn't going to jump off. It would only make him and my wretched sister happy and Mother and Gustave sad. Sink down to my knees and start to cry. I hear Fathers words fly around my head and feel my heart shatter. I was ugly. I was useless. No one. I swing my legs over the pier and tie my hair up. It wasn't then till I noticed that I still had the violin clutched in my hands. I opened it and ran my hands over the velvety interior and the sleek, smooth, red violin. I out it under my chin and started to play.