Welcome to My Sister's Memories: Her Gifts (Part One). If you haven't read the prologue, I would advise you to that first before countinuing. I would like to thank all my friedns at Scribblers Abode who helped me with everything from proofreading to choosing the cover to making sure it all sound perfect. I would also like to thank all the CC makers for their wonderful creations. Well, the story's about to begin, so sit back and enjoy!
Sincerely yours,
Dunkle15444

I nervously gazed around at the room. What had once been Her room. It was like a shrine for a dead princess with the queen-sized canopy bed, and the toy shelves that lined the walls. For every toy she had owned, I lacked. Something scurried across the hardwood floor, and hid its self under the pink dust ruffle with the white daisies that dotted it.

Her closet was filled with all her beautiful clothes. Organized by color, her shoes lined orderly below. Daddy led me towards the dusty rocker that sat in the corner. On a table beside the rocking chair, a cluster of pictures sat. Pictures of Her with mommy and daddy, of Her as a baby, and of her boarding the bus for her first day of school. How I loathed those photographs. Photographs of things I would never get to experience or have. There was not one picture of me anywhere in our house. Kieran said it was because I just hatched as a seven year old girl; full grown. I feared she was right. At least that would explain my Swiss-cheese memory. I wouldn?t feel so bad if it was true, but daddy had assured me many times that it was not. He said I was special, and time didn?t mean a thing to people like me. Somehow he always found a way to avoid my questions.

?Just relax, Natasha. Nothing will hurt you,? daddy cajoled. How wrong he was. She was always there, beside me. Haunting me, suffocating me. She was like a mirror image that I could still see even when I looked away. I would never be my own person. ?Natasha, I am only trying to help you. I want the best for you. Now sit in the rocker, Natasha. Lean your head against the high back. Grip the arms of the chair. Become the blank canvas. Let your mind fill with Her thoughts. She doesn?t need Her `gifts? anymore. They won?t help Her when she is buried six feet below the surface. Where She will never, ever breathe the air again. She doesn?t need them now. She would want you to have them.? Somehow I found that doubtful. I did as I was told, though. Call it loyalty, but somehow I believed him. I tensely leaned back in the rocking chair. The arms were worn smooth from years of wear. The seat cushion was dusty, and a cloud of dust arose as I sat. I began to rock. ?Sing Natasha, sing,? daddy cried.

I began to sing that pitiful tune. A tune I was sure the First Natasha had loved.
?Rain, rain go away.
Come again some other day.?
Over and over again I repeated those words. The floor creaked as I rocked rhythmically.

Daddy let go of my hand. I hadn?t even realized he had been holding it. He stood to his full 6 foot 4 inch self. A giant of a man. Daddy believed that tall men were what made the world go round. Never ever had I ever seen him with one of his coal black hairs out of place. `Cleanliness in next to Godliness,? he'd also say. If that was true, then my daddy was the closest thing to a God on Earth. He began to back away towards the door. ?No! Daddy! Don?t leave me in here all alone!? I cried. He shut the door. I heard the lock click. I was locked in here, all alone, with just Her.

?You?re not alone, Natasha. I am right here on the other side of the door, looking in through the key hole. You are perfectly safe, nothing can hurt you. It?s just a room. Nothing but good can come from rocking in that chair. Sing, Natasha, sing. Make the floorboards creak, become the blank canvas,? he called from the other side of the door. I squeezed my eyes shut. I sang, softly at first than louder; trying to hide from my fears. I heard the wind chimes clamoring loudly, much louder now... They were trying to tell me something. Whispering words so soft. What were they saying? ?You do have her gifts, Natasha, you do if you just give yourself a chance to catch them.?

I had heard this before. I knew what he was doing. He was trying to turn me into the First and Best Natasha...

Hypnotizing, I continued to rock. I was the blank canvas, waiting for the color. Only my color would be second-hand gifts from a long dead sister. Was I that empty headed, and boring? I let my thoughts wander. The walls became fuzzy. They seemed to open up before my very eyes. Somehow, I was outside, and the night had swiftly changed to day.

The sun shone brightly through the trees, casting shadows every which way. I was free! Free of daddy and his demanding love. Free of Kieran and her spiteful ways. Free of the prison I called home, Golden Willow. I was in the woods I realized.

It was hard to distinguish if I was her or if she was me. I decided that it was me who was free; free from all my worries, and doubts. I was merrily skipping home from school. I didn?t question or wonder about this. I just accepted it. Something wise was telling me I was inside the First and Best Natasha. I was her and she was me, and together `we? were on our way home from school. It was my special day, and I needed to be home in time for my party. I had decided to take the shortcut through the woods. It would be quicker. Mommy was wrong. There was nothing here that could harm me. There was only the bluebirds, and rabbits who lived here. I danced along the woodsy path that twisted and turned. I loved how my dress flew up and flared at my waist. I wore my best petticoat underneath it-the one with the lace and flowers embroidered near the hem. Oh, how pretty daddy had thought I looked this morning.

It was my ninth birthday That meant soon I?d be ten, and ten wasn?t so far from being eleven, and when I was twelve all the magic of becoming a woman would be mine for the taking. Suddenly there was a noise on the path ahead of me. Like black magic the sky abruptly turned dark. Lightning flashed across the sky. A sixth sense awoke within me, warning me of the shame, terror, and humiliation that was about to happen.

Out of the bushes they jumped. Three of them. If I ran fast enough, they would never catch me. My legs unlocked, and I ran. Ran, but not fast enough. I scream again and again. I fought with kicks and scratches. I butted my head against the teeth of the one who pinned my arms to the ground. I cried out to God. Save me! Help me!

Scream and scream again, and again-until I could scream no more. Just feel the shame, the terror, and the humiliation that rained down around me like the pouring rain. There hands ripped at my beautiful clothing, they violated me as I lay there helpless.

I saw the other boy rise out of the bushes. He stood there paralyzed, his eyes glued to the scene that was unfolding. Staring at me in my worst moment, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and he was gone. My one chance at help, and he had run away. Somehow I knew he wouldn?t bring help, and if he did it wouldn?t be in time.

My screams brought daddy into the room. ?Darling, darling,? he cried, falling to his knees to gather me into his big, strong arms. He cuddled me against his chest. He rained kisses down upon my hair. He whispered endearments into my ear. Trying to let me know that I would always be first in his heart. He cried how sorry he was. How ashamed he was that he made me live through that. He asked what I had seen. My tongue remained glued to the roof of my mouth; emitting no sound. If those were her gifts, I didn?t want them! She could keep them!

He led me to my room, and tucked me into bed. ?Safe,? he said hoarsely. I lay there for hours, staring up at the ceiling. I need to find a way to keep daddy from putting me in the rocking chair. Daddy had given me many clues as to what would make him happiest in life. Daddy wanted lots and lots and lots of money, for himself, for mommy, and for me, too. He wanted to fix the house up, and make it look new again. He wanted to fulfill the promises he made to Cheyenne Rene? Willoughby Aerowen, my mother, the heiress every worthy man on the lower East Coast had wanted until she married him. What a catch my mother had been. If only she hadn?t given birth to two Natasha Alexia Aerowens.

Once again, we come to the end of a story. I hope you liked it. Once again I would like to thank everyone at Scribblers Abode. Remember to check out my sim page for more information on story release dates, and more! Till next time...
Yours truely,
Dunkle15444