• I closed my eyes to the coming rise of the sun. I had no want to see the glare of light that would eventually shine through my window. No, that would mean that I would have to get up for the day.

    I should be excited. Mother and father were returning today and it was my 17th birthday. I sat up at the idea. That wasn't something exciting. My parents would expect me to go find a woman to court. God only knew that I had tried several times already.

    First, there had been the lovely maiden down the street from our mansion. My, she had the most amazing teal eyes and she was the only woman that had that hue in the village. She failed only because she had committed the sinful act of suicide. Everyone says it was because her mother had died earlier that year.

    Then, there was the older woman whom I can't say much about. She had been quick tempered and ill taught. I couldn't stand being around the woman for more than a few minutes at a time and the thought of having children with her made my stomach churn.

    I had given up on women after my third courtship. The third girl had long, wavy brunette hair that touched the small of her back. That was her best feature. She had a submissive attitude about her and she was just slightly too easy for me.

    So the very thought of my parents forcing me to go court another woman made me want to be sick.

    "Master Sinyster," The maid's tiny voice caused me to snap my head around to face her. I knew I was glaring by the terrified look on her face and I tried to relax.

    "What is it?" I demanded, keeping my voice as level as I could.

    "I, uh, I mean, your parents are coming up the drive now, Master Sinyster." The maid stumbled over her words just as much as she stumbled over her feet as she hurriedly rushed from the room.

    I sighed. If I still wasn't dressed when they arrived, my parents would be angry. I stood from my bed and then strode to my closet. Inside, there were several different shades of the same outfit.

    Today, I was feeling as if black would best capture my mood. Pulling on the crisp white, long-sleeved shirt was like pulling on my last free day. I pulled on the vest, fixed the tie, and slipped on my trousers all before my parents had even entered the main foyer of the mansion.

    "Sinyster, darling," My mother called, beckoning me down to the center of our home.

    I made my way through four or five endless hallways before I made it down to greet my mother. She looked dashing in her purple silk dress and with her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

    "You look lovely, as always, Mother," I said, as I received a hug from her. I hadn't seen or heard from my parents in a few months, three to be exact. "And Father, it is great that you arrived safely."

    My father was a strong looking man. It was hard to tell that he was of an elegant background and not a mad man. He had graying hair that stopped at the very nape of his neck and muscles that could intimidate God himself.

    "Yes, my son, and we have brought you something that you may like." I had never heard my father be more sure of himself when it came to anything that dealt with me.

    My parents thought that I was cursed with such depression that I would never arise from the pain in my heart. I sometimes believed them but then I would hear her voice in the back of my mind, telling me that she was there with me. She was my deceased twin of whom I lost two days after I was born and still to this day I grieve for her.

    I snapped out of my daze and smiled at my father. "May I ask what this thing is that I may like?"

    My mother beamed her most famous smile at me and clasped her hands together over her chest. "Oh, my son, look on the couch." She motioned to her left with her head.

    I glanced over to the couch and nearly gasped. A young woman was slumped over on the couch. She had lovely blonde hair that fell to her shoulders and her face looked like a fairy's. She was beautiful. However, she looked like she was dead. She was dead!

    I leaped over the loveseat and ran to her. I pressed my ear against her chest and listened for a heart beat. I listened for blood pumping through her body. There was nothing, not even a slight twitch from her stomach or a woosh of air into her lungs.

    I stood and spun on my heels. "You brought me a dead woman! Are you mad? Were you going to use her and say she was my wife that I had hidden away in fear she would die?" I couldn't calm my rage.

    My mother walked around to me and grabbed my arm. I growled so harshly that she stepped away from me and my father took her place.

    "We did not bring you a dead woman." My father demanded. He pushed me back until I was sitting next to the dead girl.

    "I want you to take this," He reached behind him and pulled a dagger out the back of his pants. "And cut your finger."

    "What? I will do not such thing, Father." I objected.

    "Do it."

    With that I took the knife and pulled it across the tip of my finger. Blood pooled around the cut and drizzled down my finger. My father grabbed my hand so hard that I was sure my wrist would snap.

    “Now, I want you to let her taste your finger.” Father instructed.

    I knew better than to argue when he had his death grip on my wrist. I stuck my finger into the girl’s mouth and felt the soft surface of her tongue. It was wet and suddenly she tongue began to move across my finger.

    I yelped, trying to pull away my finger. I couldn’t; her lips clasped around my finger so tight that I couldn’t move.

    “What is she?” I heard the strain in my voice and couldn’t seem to quell my fear.

    “She is a living doll, thanks to you. You are her master and can do as you please with this young woman. There will be no need to court a real lady if the village people think that you are courting a woman from across the country.” My father smiled at me.

    “Name her, my darling.” My mother whispered from behind my father.

    “Alethea,” I whispered as her green eyes opened to rest on my face…