Forgiveness cannot be brought – Kiela did not want to forgive her mother. She didn’t deserve it. However, her father disagreed (Genre – Fiction, Rating – 15, Warnings: implied child abuse)
“I don’t want to forgive her,” Kiela hissed at her father.
“You must,” her father replied. That was his standard reply. Forgive your mother. Ignore your pain, your feelings, your hurt. Forgive her so she can be happy again.
“I don’t have to do anything,” Kiela replied, looking up from her hands and staring at her father. His brown-red eyes stared back at her, brows furrowing in a disapproving frown.
He could disapprove all he wanted. Kiela’s mother was a bitch and he knew it. The court, knew it, the entire Queendom knew it.
But no one ever did anything about it. The Queen was supposed to lead, to protect and guide her Queendom through troubled times.
Kiela’s mother just spent the crown’s money on new dresses and parties. The impression was more than the dying common folk at their gates. More than the injustice that lived in the streets of their cities and countryside.
Kiela might only be twelve, but she wasn’t having any of it.
“No,” she replied, “forgivness is something that has to be freely given. Not brought.”
Her heart pounded, it always did whenever she stood up to her parents injustice. They would get angry, they would get upset, and then they would beat her into the ground and blame her whilst they did it.
Kiela’s father growled.
“Don’t make me say it again,” he said, taking a step closer. Kiela felt the fear grip her whole body as her father’s shoulder’s squared over her, ready to strike.
She tried to stop the tears falling down her cheeks, but as her father towered over her, she had no choice.
“Okay,” she whispered quietly, “I forgive her.”
Kiela’s father smiled at her. Anyone else would mistake it for a fond smile.
Kiela knew it was fake.
“Good,” he replied, stepping away, “you have fifteen minutes until dinner. Do not make your mother mad again, understand? It makes it very difficult for me and you’re too troublesome to deal with when we have important trade deals.”
Not that you make them, Kiela thought as her father stalked out of her bedroom. She waited until her father shut the door, before falling to the tiled floor in heavy sobs.
I can’t do this, she thought, I can’t go on.