ERICH
I think she expected her mother as she looked shocked when I walked into the room.
As if crying, she pleaded out loud—calling to her mother, “Mother?”
I said, “She isn’t home at the moment. It is just you and me.”
Continuing, I said, “I know that you just got back from that swing club. Dancing like niggers to Jew music made for kikes like you.”
She was silent because she had no excuse to give.
“I will take your silence as your confession, not that I need it—I had you and that bastard nephew of mine followed. At least you aren’t lying, I suppose that is something. Perhaps you can be reformed, you are at least partially human I suppose.
“I will have you know you have dishonored me greatly. It was one of my very few vices, I suppose, my appreciation of nigger-Jew music. A man in my position cannot afford to be dishonored this way. However, you have helped me come to my senses and I thank you for that. I do, I thank you. But you’ve made me think that perhaps I need to rid myself of all this Jewish influence in my life.”
I switched subjects. “So, this American ambassador’s son—you love him, don’t you?”
“Father, I …”
“Shut up. Just shut your fucking hole when I am talking. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Father.”
“I thought I told you that you weren’t to date anyone—especially a reprobate like him.”
I calmed down for a small while and went up to her. I laid my palm on the crown of her head and then started to pet her down to her neck.
I whispered into her ear, “You are so pretty. Just like your mother.”
She was uncomfortable and started to shiver and cry.
I said, “What—why are you crying, Edith? Do you not like your Father touching you?”
She shook her head that she didn’t like it and said, “You aren’t my real Father.”
I looked at her and smirked.
“If I am not your Father then what am I, hm?”
I had taken my hands off her and was standing with arms akimbo.
Whispering into her ear so closely that it must have tickled, a snake’s whisper, I said, “I wonder what I am if not your Father.”
I then pushed her to the floor and hovered over her, leaning down to peer into her face.
“You have such pretty blue eyes. Like the ocean. And milky skin, with blonde hair and a face like an angel’s. If you aren’t my daughter, shouldn’t I love you another way?”
She didn’t have anything to say, she was so frightened of me that she just said, “Father …”
I fed off her fear, I liked it.
“No.” I put my finger to her lips to demand her silence, which she ceded to me.
“If you aren’t my daughter, then I will not treat you as my daughter. You could be my lover. I think you could be that. Would you like that, Edith?”
She shook her head vigorously to signal NO as I massaged her inner calf and started to breathe heavily.
I suddenly stood up.
“No, you are tricking me. You are trying to attract me to you and you are a Jewish whore.
“You know the only reason that you aren’t in the ghetto is me. I wouldn’t fuck you, Edith. Your mother is plenty good in bed and she is as beautiful, if a little more mature. And she isn’t a mischling, a mixed-blood piece of trash.
“And how do you reward me for letting you run about free as if an Aryan? You go fucking this American. This ‘swing kid.’ The leader of these spoiled-brat youths. I imagine he thinks you are pretty. I imagine if he didn’t think that he wouldn’t fancy you and you would behave.
“What to do, what to do about the mischling, the Jewish pretty girl? How do I make you un-pretty, Edith? How do I do that?
“Oh, don’t worry, I know just how to do it and what will help you keep yourself out of having to go to the ghetto.”
I pulled a sharp knife from my uniform’s belt and placed it to her right cheek.
She was breathing in and out and couldn’t swallow, she was so scared. I could tell she needed to swallow to let out the scream that was accumulating in her throat.
I then put a moderate amount of pressure on her cheek and pulled the knife away like I was opening the peel of an orange.
She screamed as the sensation hit her face and traced its way down the way my knife had gone.
I walked to the adjacent bathroom as her tears turned into blood that dripped down her face.
I came back into the room and put a small towel to her face—leaning down and looking directly into her eyes.
But the pain of the wound was such that she started sobbing and heaving.
“Don’t ever embarrass me again, Edith. It was that American that got you into this swing bullshit. I expect you to never see him again. Do you understand me?”
I pulled the knife out again, and she shuddered.
I looked at it and then wiped it off on the towel she was holding to her face.
“You still have another pretty cheek, you know.”
“Yes …” she said through her convulsions.
“Yes, Uncle?” I said.
“Yes, yes, Uncle, please forgive me.”
“Say nothing of it.”
I stood up and put the knife back in my belt.
“Hold that cloth to your face, dear—push it hard. I will call a doctor over immediately to tend to you. I love you very much. Now tomorrow I will come bring you a present. For now, stay where you are and someone will be here within the hour—don’t worry, it really isn’t a deep cut that could kill you.”
I smirked at her and left the room.