Note: This is not told from Melanthea's point if few.

James Spencer Martin look out of the window of his third story apartment, his heart twisting as his gaze flicked to the picture of his little girl on the window sill. At that point, she'd just been a baby. But, she'd been an adorable one. She was mostly her mothers, same shining Bkack hair, same long curling lashes, same alert look in her eyes that looked odd on a chil so young. Made her look much more mature than she should at eighteen months. But te eyes themselves were a warm, smooth honey brown, with a circle of nights Black rimming it and a circle of green near the pupil. But those weren't just any eyes. They were his eyes. Copied exactly onto to her face. That and the the few lighter, milk chocolate brown sections of her shining hair were the only indication she was his child. It was all, but he was glad he had it.
He felt the familiar twist of his heart as he pictured his daughter now. She'd be tall and skinny, like her mother. Her hair would fall in beautiful waves, glinting in the light. Her eyes would glitter with the same alertness and light they always had. Her smile would spread across her face, slow and unexpected. Her nose would scrunch up when she was worried, she'd blink repeatedly when she was her surprised, her jaw muscle would tighten in defiance. She'd be beautiful. She'd look...
Like Lilac.
James' heart twisted violently at the thought of his beloved. Lilac. It was hard enough to deal with the pain of loosing his daughter, his one and only little girl. His baby. His baby. His pup.
His Little Rose.
But to loose the live of his life, and to think of how she'd given her life, for him, for they're baby, for all the people of the world, was too much to bear. Oh, Lilac... Why? Why had she gone? He had loved her so, and she'd slipped through his fingers.
And then, to loose his baby forever. He'd left her, not wanting her to be influenced by him. Who he was. Who he'd been made into. She'd have been shunned, rejected, turned away by everyone. So he'd run away from her, but not before leaving her a few things. Things she would have found, but no.
Her stepfather, Harry, (He still felt his blood boil at the mention of his name. The way he'd married Lilac. The disgusted way he'd looked at his Little Rose. He still wanted to snap his neck) had crashed his car. His baby had only been six, and she'd died in the crash. He'd tried to come and see her, wanted to have a funeral in honor of his pup, but Harry hadn't allowed it. Her said she was was a worthless little freak who didn't deserve recognition.
James had nearly killed him then and there.
Oh, how he missed his Melanthea. How he missed his Lilac.
As usual, his mind drifted to what could have been, of he'd stayed. Lilac might have still died, but his little girl would be Alive. She'd smile and and call him Dad, hug him, give his kisses on the cheek, let him teach her things. He would have taught her how to shift, how to use a sword, how to fight, but also less vulgar things. How to throw and catch, how to ride a bike, how to draw, how to play pranks on her uncles, and give her all of her mothers spell books. She'd be a brilliant witch, and a gorgeous girl.
If only he'd stayed... How he wished he had. Oh, his girls. His lovely girls. He missed them terribly.
He moved away from the window sill and walked to the table, where a vase of dark red and black roses sat in a vase, behind a drawing of his dearest girl, or how he imagined she'd look now. On the counter was another vase, this one with lilacs inside, with a picture of his Lilac in front.
His Lilac and Melanthea
His Purple Flower and Dark Rose
His two beautiful ladies.

He felt a single tear streak down his cheek, a d fall the the floor, sinking into the soft beige fabric of the carpet.