My daughter

It felt like a blessing, hearing her beautiful cries of life. I always thought it was a miracle of God, allowing me the chance to hear her blood-curdling screams and to touch her silky, porcelain skin as I hold her fragile body in my large, rough arms.

I was wrong.

Her blessed screams turned in to one that held a thousand tortured souls as her skin turned from a look-warm temperature to freshly boiled water. My arms shook as I tried not to drop her.

The smile, supposedly innocent was a knowing smirk as her evil carved eyes looked up at me and into my soul. Sticking her tongue out, licking her lip childishly. As if she knows that at some point in the future she will get the chance to taste my sweet, bitter soul, trapping me with other screaming souls.