Isabella Díez

Isabella was always gifted. We knew that from the day she was born and I held her in my arms.

We had to protect her, covet her from the cruel world that would bite at her. Its rough edges like rusted metal that would tear jarring wounds.

It was safe within our farm. We toiled and did our work, secluded from the rest of the world. Surrounded for miles on end only by gravel and rocks. It was lonely, sure, but we were safe. My dear Isabella was safe.

She didn't know what it meant to have friends, I would see her playing with the animals instead. Chasing the chickens like some cute goliath. I would scold her for rummaging around with the pigs. Her adorable giggles contrasting their oinks. I found it hard to stay mad at her. I found it hard to pretend like I was upset. She seemed so happy.

"We have to tell her." The guilt that kept rising over the years gnawed away at my wife and me, aging us. How wrong we were. How foolish it was for us to think that we knew better. We weren't trying to protect Isabella, we were protecting ourselves. Acting out of our own desire to not see our daughter get hurt. But it was that protection that caused her to grow up to be a fine woman and not understand what it meant to live. We deprived her of that.

"Honey, we need to show you something." Isabella mirrored our worried expressions. Our features weathered with age and the weight of our guilt causing our shoulders to slouch.

"Show me what?" She asked.

"It's best if we just show you."

With the rising dawn, Isabella and I got into my truck and drove into the horizon. The sun was rising over the horizon to shine light upon my regret.

Even then, I had second thoughts, I wanted to turn around and for us to stay secluded within our little world in the middle of nowhere, away from the cruel reality of life. Even I had avoided contact with people for many years, joining my daughter in her cruel punishment.

Would she hate us for depriving her of the truth? For keeping her away from the rest of humanity, caged in by bars made of our own lies and deceit? Or perhaps she would forgive us, and be opened to a world that wished to hurt her.

No -- I could no longer avoid this. I drove on, dust trailing behind us.

The roads lay empty and barren. The city that used to bustle with life was now just unnervingly quiet. It seemed wrong. A stillness that whispered of cold death.

"Where is everyone?" I asked myself as the door to my truck closed shut.

"They don't exist, remember, dad? You told me that."

I turned to Isabella, I had come this far. She had to know the truth one way or another. My lip quivered; perhaps I guided her all the way out here so I did not have to say I lied, that I didn't have to explain to my own daughter what had been done. But it seemed fitting that just as my lips sowed the lie into existence, they too would reap punishment.

"I lied, sweetheart. We aren't the last people on earth. We never were. We wanted to protect you from it all, from the cruelty."

Isabella giggled, that same innocent giggle when she rolled with the pigs, oblivious of lives, just like how her coil-tailed friends were oblivious of their fate as food.

"I know." She said. She was not angry, she was not shocked. She just smiled, a knowing smile that spoke of her adventurous and affable self. She was being coy.

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"Daddy, I am not an idiot. I always knew that humans existed. I know a lot of things you don't seem to. I also knew why you hid them from me." She shook her head. "I never needed protection, daddy, but I knew you were afraid of them. Afraid of humans. We didn't need them anyway. We have our little farm and we can just live there in our little world."

"Isabella. Dear. What are you saying?"

She giggled. "I made them disappear, daddy. We don't need anyone else, nobody will ever hurt you again. We can be happy."

The abandoned buildings that surrounded us now seemed lonely. Without purpose. Serving instead as tall tombstones for the whole of mankind. A sad and worthless legacy of our civilisation; a civilisation brought to an abrupt end before it could live out a full life.

I realised then, that my innocent daughter was born with godly powers, the ability to bend reality to her will. And it was her naive and unknowing self that acted void of malice, but that unbridled desire to do good without understanding the consequences made her erase all of mankind in an instant.

I created a monster.

*To be continued*