#188. Letters
My baby boy,
You were beautiful. Tiny toes and fingers. Brilliant black hair against your dazzling blue skin. And a tail, curling around your arms, my arms.
I never had much time to hold you. The nursemaid's screams echoing through the air. Alerting the rest of the staff.
They came at us right away and I scooped you up. Swaddled you in a tiny blanket already covered in blood. The nursemaid dead on the floor behind us. I took off running, intending to save us both. To fight my way through the woods. Away from the dogs and the men and the guns.
But it was not meant to be, my little darling. You and I.
You were such a tiny thing. There was no way you could survive the men if I left you there. Your cries would have signalled your area and then we merely both would have died. So I chose to live. Dropping your wailing form into the rocky river below. To the delight of all involved.
Except for me.
Gone. Like the last child. But I wanted you. If there had been a way I would have kept you.
Instead I shall merely mourn you.
My dear Helena,
How is Berlin? Enjoying the weather and those lovely pair of new sunglasses you are using to cover up that pretty little deformity that is now your face? Your vast array of hooded jackets and scarf wraps do nothing to hide the grotesqueness of your appearance.
Do you shudder at the looks given by those around you as you bare yourself, letting them see your true side? Do not try to deny it, poppet. I know you do. I've seen you cast your eyes--oh, I'm sorry eye--as they look at you. Angry because of their frightened noises and looks. Wondering what has become of the once Austrian beauty queen.
My dear, stop the attempts to find me. The men you are sending are far from adequate and are mearly a small annoyance to get rid of. You know nothing of suffering, Helena, but do not worry. By the time I have finished you shall know the true meaning of that word.
No one takes what is mine and perverts it the way you did. Using my eggs to grow and destroy so you could create beauty in those not deserving of it. You may think your lawyers will keep you and your company out of prison but, my dear, there are far worse punishments than simply being thrown into a cell.
Do not worry. I will be seeing you soon.
Mystique