Inquisitive

Chapter One
Nikita

She had always felt that if she could find her mother things would begin to make sense.

She knew of course that her mother was dead. Of that she held little doubt. But the dead were buried…and she had not the slightest clue as to where her mother’s remains lay. If she could only find her mother and talk to her…maybe her mother could help her somehow.

It was silly, she knew. As if a dead mother could speak to her or help her in any manner. But still…she couldn’t help but wonder. Her father was of little help. Now that she thought of it, her father was of little help with anything.

Stay of it, Eliza Sennette she could hear him saying now. She unconsciously continued the speech aloud.

“It does no one any good to bring up the past. Your mother was…well, she was your mother. And that’s the end of the matter, Eliza Sennette.”

He always called her Eliza Sennette—her first and middle name. Her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Mueller, had once said that Eliza’s father called her Eliza Sennette because he liked to pretend he was clever enough to come up with the name. But it was her mother, Mrs. Mueller had continued, it was most definitely the mother who would come up with something like that. A name as a parting gift to the town she so loathed.

Eliza of course was not supposed to hear any of this. But she heard a lot of things she wasn’t supposed to. She found she was very good at hiding and listening. She knew on some basic level that eavesdropping was wrong…but if people didn’t keep things from her then she wouldn’t be forced to spy on them.

She hadn’t even known her mother’s name until three months ago.

And the only way she could find that out was to trick her father into saying it. Eliza recalled the look on his face as he spoke his wife’s name. He flinched as if he had cursed.

As if she was a curse.

Well, Eliza was sure that her mother was lovely. In fact, Eliza was quite sure of a lot of things.

She knew her father didn’t have an original thought in his head (Mrs. Mueller made that public knowledge), she was sure that no one in this town liked her, and she was sure that they were all putting on some big show to keep something from her.

She also knew that they all thought she was as stupid as they perceived her father to be. She supposed this wasn’t a far leap for them to make. After all, she was only six. And everyone always assumes children are dumb.

But Eliza knew better. She wasn’t dumb—she new bigger words than a lot of adults! Her father had never shown much interest in her so she had been forced to take interest in other things.

Her father, like many in the town, did not believe in the “evils” of television. But he saw little wrong with the library. And so, little Eliza Sennette had learned at an early age that knowledge was power and she therefore strived to learn all that she could.

She wanted intelligence because intelligence was the only thing that could give her answers.

But intelligence in a child is a suspicious thing—especially here. Eliza quickly caught on to act like her father…however; she couldn’t stop herself from asking questions.

Questions coming from those big, green eyes brought back memories. She was nosey, they all decided, just like her mother.

Eliza peered sadly to the ground. Whenever she heard anyone mention her mother they always said it in that tone of voice that made her mom synonymous with all things bad.

She’d show them. Her mother was a wonderful woman—she just had to have been.

Eliza had seen a picture of her once. She was beautiful. Eliza only hoped that one day she would be as beautiful. And she was smart, Eliza recalled with pleasure. Whenever she overheard the townspeople gossiping about her family they always remarked how clever and intelligent Eliza’s mother had been.

Of course, they always said those words with the same scorn they said the word mother…but it was no matter to Eliza. They were music to her ears. Her mother was clever and intelligent and beautiful and so Eliza was determined to be all those things as well.

It was then that she got the idea that if she could find her mother she could grow closer to becoming these things.

However, she soon found that is difficult to locate a grave when one doesn’t even know the name they are looking for.

How foolish. How horribly sad to not even know the name of your own mother.

Eliza gazed up to the sky where she was so sure her mother was looking down on her. “Sorry, Mom,” she whispered achingly. What a negligent daughter she was, she thought with large tears welling up in her eyes.

That very night Eliza did something…well, not something good little girls should do. She found the brown liquid that her father kept underneath the sink and drank from when he thought Eliza wasn’t looking. She knew that liquid loosened his tongue. She suspected it was alcohol but had little experience with such things.

In any matter, Eliza had borrowed the bottle and mixed it in with her father’s evening meal as well as his drink. And it worked like a charm.

Before she knew it her father was rambling on, telling her things that were humorous—but not important. Finally she knew this was her opportunity.

And so she asked.

His eyes had glazed over and for a fleeting moment he looked sad. She wondered if he loved her mother. She decided that he did. After all, who doesn’t want to imagine that their parents were in love?

Nikita.

Eliza had said the name so many times over. It tasted sweet on her tongue. She had even went to the library and looked up the meaning of the name.

Unconquered. Her mother, Nikita, was unconquered.

Eliza liked the way that sounded. She was a free spirit. A cunning, smart, beautiful, free spirit. Yes, Eliza decided, she would be just like her mother.

If only she could discover more about her.

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A/N—Right. So by now anyone who reads things by me is aware that I sometimes am painfully slow with updates…er, sorry. This story actually slipped my mind for a moment, but now that I have rediscovered it I remember all my odd plans and schemes for it.

I know that Eliza seems probably way too bright for a child of six…but take a leap of faith with me on this. This is…not a normal place and Eliza is not a normal little girl. I hope I’ve built something of an air of mystery…but if I have not yet succeeded, I shall only have to try harder ;)

Thank you so much for reading and if you would be kind enough to review with thoughts and comments (especially since this story is fair different from anything else I post) it would be extremely appreciated.