All is Vanity ~Percabeth

6: Athelia

There once was a girl, her beautiful brown hair was always tied in two elegant braids, her clothes were always of branded and new, her grey eyes were filled with the desire to love, or rather to be love, and her name was Athelia.

Since she was a kid, she always was pampered, born in a wealthy family, taking classes blindly. Her mother had died when she was a kid, her father was extremely strict with her, she always had to do her best, she had to be the best.

Through the thick frame of her glasses, no one could see the loneliness in her eyes, those grey eyes that were red and swollen, the eyes of the girl that was destined to take over the company, the so-called perfect daughter of the family.

She kept the crying all to herself, she couldn't speak to anyone about it. What would they think of the child, the hope of the agency?

No one would listen, it was all a dream, who is willing to save to girl, whose cries were kept unheard. Through the balcony of her room, through the windowsill , her father could hear her pleading voice, her pleads to be release.

A pen and a paper, that was all that was left. The girl took one last breath as she took the final step, falling into darkness, crying herself to sleep. All it took was one last decision before her death occurred beneath.

Her father was broken, as she saw her body below, the paper she wrote her last words, were drenched in sad solid tears. Her final speech was simple, as simple than it could possibly be, 'Dear Father, I am sorry, for all I've done is vanity.'

I closed the book, my fingers felt heavy and tired, I'd read this book so many times, yet the feeling of sadness never fails to envelop me.

My Dad supposedly wrote this book for my Mom, Athelia Chase. I've always had so many questions for him. Why was the book written for me and not for my Mom? What happened to the girl? Why did she kill herself?

Such a simple and short story, no pictures or whatever. The meaning of the story could be seen in so many different ways, the longing of an explanation was overwhelming.

But everytime I try to ask Dad about it he would smile and ask, "What do you think?"

"I don't know," I would reply every time.

"Then so be it."

The book was taken down by my grandfather's company after only 2 months, they barely sold out any copies of it. The rest was stashed away in our basement rotting away as I speak, my Dad refused to give them away, to keep them there as a memento of Mom.

I gazed at the book cover once more, that was the only thing I knew of Mom, braided brown hair, grey eyes and huge round glasses. The daughter of Zebastian Olympaine, the girl who killed herself.

I felt grave sadness for the girl in the story, Mom or not, I admire her for being so brave, I envy her for her recklessness, 'Dear girl in the story, not everything is vanity."