“Mom, does it upset you that I look like father?” she asked, but her voice wasn’t quiet or timid. It was curious, but without emotion. If anything, it sounded more like a statement.

The woman, her mother, froze in place at the question, taken off guard. This was not a question she’d been prepared to answer. She turned, her face a mask, her tone just as cold.

“What do you mean?”

The little girl’s face didn’t change. She merely tilted her head and looked her mother over before gazing into a mirror, staring at her own reflection.

“I don’t look like you, not really. Not at all. And you don’t like to talk about father–”

She cut the girl’s speech off with her own. “Because he…” But she couldn’t finish that sentence. Not now. Not ever. She restarted, shaking her head. “Your father. He wasn’t a good man.”

She couldn’t explain it any simpler to the young child she gave so much of her time and love to. In her eyes, the little girl was a miracle, the best thing that could happen… but her father? No. She hoped never to see that man’s face again. She hoped that this little girl would never have to meet him.

He was a cruel man deserving of no respect. He had no honor among parents. No honor among any of those who sat below him.

“What do you mean?”

She stooped down to her daughter’s level, grabbing her shoulders lightly, staring right into her eyes.

“He would be…” she started. Even this sentence, saying it in this way, was like a lie. “He would be one… to sell you off.”

Like an object.

A thing.

To think he spent all that fortune on his great-great-great grandmother’s handcrafted vase… and he could just… he did…

“What?!” The little girl’s eyes widened and the emotionless mask she’d held onto was lost, tears rising into her eyes at this news.

Nobody wanted to know such horrible things about people that should’ve been dear and near. But it wasn’t the full truth. This little girl didn’t know everything in her history.

The woman grit her teeth as she recalled it all. But she couldn’t say it to this little girl, her little girl. No. It was enough to tell her he was bad. It was enough to say this. She didn’t need to recall those times, not yet, not until she was old enough to handle the truth.

Would.

Could.

Those words meant options.

But, did?

Did.

It meant that it had already been done.

He’d already chosen that path. It wasn’t a matter of would or could. He’d done it. Or, at least, he tried to.

There wasn’t a better reason to keep him away from her. To not let him know where she was… to let him keep thinking his daughter was dead.

“Don’t worry.” She brushed back some of the girl’s hair from her face with a hand. She gave her a small smile. Shaking her head, she leaned a little closer. “He won’t find you here.”

The little girl didn’t understand. How could it be that a witch wouldn’t find another witch in the place where most witches resided? Despite the places they travelled, they all gathered in a relatively small area compared to the massive size of the planet, of the world in which they lived. All those other nations with other beings… In the little girl’s mind, it didn’t make sense.

If he wanted to find me, he could.

But hearing he was a bad man… she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to meet him. She wanted to hide. But how were they supposed to do that?

“What happens if he does?”

Her mother’s gaze sharpened and her brows furrowed.

“He won’t.”

She sounded sure, but what if she was wrong? The little girl pondered this question and dared ask how she was so certain.

“Why? Why are you so sure?”

Her mother stood and walked over to the window, reaching up a hand to lightly move aside the heavy blue curtains there. She gazed out and her daughter stared at the flicker of some heavy emotion in her eyes.

When her mother looked back at her, there was no doubt or question in her eyes.

“Because, Minnie. He thinks you’re dead.”

Minnie, the little girl, stared up at her mother for the longest time in silence, wondering about everything.

How?

Why?

Had her mother faked her death?

Did he think that both of them were dead?

Why… didn’t she recall any of this? Even just a little?

Her mother, Ashena Porter, then turned away and mumbled words to herself, but she only caught parts of it. It all only made her more confused.

“Someone else… looking for… if they didn’t… die.”

Years passed, and this was just one of those memories, one that didn’t make much sense, one that didn’t bring anything but confusion to the forefront of her mind.

She never ended up learning the smallest things about her father. She never dared ask.

She didn’t even know his name.