Deny Thy Father

I, alone, attend his burial.

There was no funeral. No one mourns his death -- many celebrate it -- but as his daughter I am here.

They say he asked for me, near the end, but I didn't go to him. The frail, wasted man that lay dying in exile bore no more resemblance to the father I remember, than did the tyrant who ordered the deaths of so many.

Everything of him dies today. I have a new life -- a new name, and when I leave here, I will never look back.

"I hate you," I whisper, through tears of grief.