My Child | Teen Ink

My Child

June 9, 2013
By Dreamr GOLD, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Dreamr GOLD, Tuscaloosa, Alabama
19 articles 0 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
" Some people are born into this world thinking the Earth owes them something. It owes them nothing-it was here first!"









-Samuel Clemens


I loved her ok? Stop saying that. Stop saying I killed her. I did no such thing, and YOU are a LIAR. Stop it, stop it, I do not want to hurt, not again...
ENOUGH!
There, that's better.
See, everything is so much easier when you are quiet. Listen to me. I can make it all go away, all the pain and the crying and the sounds that brush down your consciousness like your own body is against you. It is, isn't it?
Oh, how your flesh keens and shivers and begs to be afraid. It yearns for your soul to listen to its cry of terror. But your knowledge- the consciousness of what you thought you knew, the sciences you poured over for so long- has made you stupid. You no longer listen to the age old instinct of fear.
That is why I am here.
You shy away from my touch. Do I frighten you? I should.
The...fall, it made me different. It tore my skin, stretched my muscles and broke my bones so that they bend wherever at my will. I am quite a sight, now.
I used to be so beautiful. One look at me, and you'd never know I was...different. I prefer the term different. But that was anything but what they called me.
Oh, how the nurses would scream and cry I was dangerous. A sick, twisted, disgusting monster, under those blue angel eyes. How could I live with myself? And whose baby was that, cradled in my arms? It couldn't be mine! How could any man bear to have relations with a...a thing such as me?
They were wrong.
She was mine. And I loved her. Everything would have been fine, if they had let us stay together, everything would have been fine if... But they did not. I loved MY baby, that is why I did what I did.
I ran, see.
So many details of my human life are dim, at best. It was so long ago. But the one thing I remember, with achingly sharp clarity, is that run.
I took back my baby from that witch. I hurt the old bat badly, it escapes me how...I just remember the color of the scarlet, staining my little girl's white, pure skin as I caressed her cheek.
And I ran. The forest surrounding the asylum was thick.
Branches whipped and slashed my skin to shreds.
Leaves and twigs crunched painfully under my bare feet, and a stone slashed at the pad of my left foot.
I heard them coming for me. Dozens, hundreds, perhaps! Blundering and crashing through the thicket, baying for me, my child, our togetherness. Sweat poured down my body, and my matted hair stuck to my skin.
And then I saw the light.
A clearing, beautiful as anything. And...
The cliff.
I loved her. I loved her so much, and nothing was ever going to seperate us again.
The mob paused, and for a breath, I considered turning back.
And then I saw the faces, heard the voices of the nurses, telling and screaming and make it stop, oh please!
The stone felt cool, smooth, and comforting under my hot, torn feet. A breeze ruffled my hair, and utter silence reigned. The air tasted of water, cold and refreshing.
The coo of my baby brought me back to life. She smiled warmly at me, and I knew I had to do it. I had to. I loved her, I adored her, I loved her so much, so much...
I placed my bloody, bony hand over her little eyes.
I took one last look at my pursuers. And then...
I let the air claim me.
This is when it all went wrong. My baby, my child...
See, I hit a branch coming down. It was quite a long fall. Before I hit the branch, my beloved was still safe in my arms.
After. She was missing.
My pained, shrill scream was cut short.
My body was broken and twisted cruelly as I hit the sucking, slapping waves, and my blood mixed into the cold water. As I sank, hair billowing around me...
I mourned.
I hated.
I despaired.
But most importantly, I desired.
And I was, again.
Now I roam the forest, my cliff, the icy shores, in search of my baby, my baby, I search, I search for her...
I believe you are dead now. I must have quieted you too hard.
I am so sorry.
Iam so sorry
Iamso...So...
Iamsosorry.


The author's comments:
This piece was inspired by a scene from the movie, Mama. There was no narration at all, and I felt the 'Mama' had a powerful voice. I wanted to write it.
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