Daddy wanted his little girls to be perfect. He taught sharpshooting at the military academy, so Rosalind and I were going to attend the academy, specializing in sharpshooting, and graduate at the very top of our classes, and make him very, very proud.

Rosalind did all that, and then was recruited into the Turks. Daddy was so proud. She was always his favorite, anyway.

I got sick of never being good enough for him and switched from sharpshooting to martial arts. I was amazing at martial arts. I set a fucking record, at the academy. And Daddy was disappointed in me, for not staying with sharpshooting like St. Rosalind did. He washed his hands of me at that point.

When Rosalind died, he locked himself in his study and started drinking. He just gave up. Nothing mattered - his perfect angel was dead, and I was just the fuck-up. I was never going to be Rosalind, so I didn't matter.

I left his house the day I joined the Turks and I haven't spoken to him since. The town was destroyed, so he might be dead now. I don't know. I don't think I care.