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“Papa,” she looks up at him. He’s tall, his face is shielded by darkness and he looks so unreachable. She hugs his legs and he doesn’t move to reassure her. “Papa!” She cries in distress. “Don’t leave me!”
His hand comes to her head and her heart flutters before she realizes he’s pushing her away. She stares up at him in confusion, tears gathered on her lashes. A grin is plastered on his face. “ The mission is over, Anya,” he starts, grin not leaving his face, “ I have no need for you anymore.”
“No! Papa!” She cries, her face flushed as she reaches for him again, he steps away from her. “Papa! I- I can be helpful! I can help you!”
His eyes shift from glee to pity, “Oh, you poor child.” Then they turn to steel, “How could you possibly help? You’re more trouble than you’re worth, causing trouble for me everywhere you go. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He adjusts his fedora and turns away, “ I have missions to get to.”
“Papa, please! Don’t leave me! I’ll do better! Please!” She reaches for him, sobs wracking her small body.
She falls to her knees, hiccups interrupting her sobs, “Don’t go…” she whispers to no one, because he’s gone. He left. And she’s alone.
Like always.
“PAPA!” she cries out one last time.
*
“Anya!” Her eyes fly open where they meet the blue of her father’s. His eyebrows are pinched with concern, her mother at his side with her lips set in a worried frown. “What’s wrong?”
She’s groggy and disoriented, reality and dreams clashing much too fast. She realizes there are tears trailing down her cheeks. All she can think of is his steely glare and his back turned to her, and then that image clashes with his present self, sitting beside her bed, eyes showing only panic and distress.
She looks to her mother who kneels beside her bed, grasping her hand.
Anya sits up, sobs picking up again as she hides her face, her mother’s grasp leaving her as she uses the backs of her hands to wipe the tears that won’t stop coming.
“Anya,” her mother’s worried voice probes gently, “ What’s wrong, my little strawberry?” It’s not something she’s ever been called, and her sweet voice only makes the emptiness in Anya’s panicked heart run deeper.
This… this was all fake.
She knew both their thoughts. Everything they were... wife, husband, child. It was all fake. Done for the sake of each of their selfish desires.
It was just bad luck that Anya had the most to lose.
She shakes her head, tears refusing to stop, because it hurt . It hurt that once Donovan Desmond was taken care of… she’d be thrown away like she’s been disposed of before.
She looks up at her parents… no, she looks up at Twilight and Thorn Princess, and smiles, the most fake she’s ever smiled, “Nothing, Ma… Pa…” She closes her eyes and new tears stream down her face, “It was just a bad dream…”
She scolds herself. Maybe she should take a page from Twilight’s book. Don’t get too attached.
After all, she thinks to herself, this is for the mission, Anya.