She paced a nursery that Veylo had prepared for Jeroda.
Stuffed animals were stacked behind the recliner, piled up to shelves along the wall, which were packed with toys and picture books. Across from Maggie, a white-framed crib with an overhanging mobile of stars and planets was placed before a periwinkle wall. A shelf beside the crib contained necessities—diapers, baby wipes, and other miscellaneous supplies.
While she knew this room was as perfect as any child could want or need, she couldn’t help but recognize the dark intentions that lurked behind these beautiful trappings. But it was such a normal room for a child who she’d been told wasn’t like any other. What made him so different? Still, the persistent sensation from the high her child had given her, reminded her of the difference.
Despite the pleasure she had reveled in when he’d first fed her this powerful need, it no longer felt delicious, intoxicating. There was a sting to it, like being high for too long. Disorienting. Confusing. Confounding. She wanted to come back down.
It reminded her of a time where she’d taken acid and hallucinated for days. It was painful. Her head and joints ached. And the hallucinations kept coming.
She remembered when she’d stopped at a gas station to buy painkillers and lottery tickets for Kirk.
A young woman, in her early twenties, had a serious look on her face, like she was working to solve a difficult math problem rather than trying to ring up the two items. Behind the girl, Maggie saw what appeared to be scales as a giant serpent rose from the floor.
Maggie’d opened her mouth to say something, but knowing it was just caused by her high, she tightened her lips together as the creature continued rising. It didn’t have eyes, but it clearly was looking right at Maggie, judging her, hating her. It was like in a dream, where she knew the intentions of the people in them… only in this case, she knew the intentions of this wicked snake. It wanted to torture her, to pursue her through the night.
As it had neared the glass at the edge of the counter, Maggie had sprung out of the station, without paying, without taking Kirk’s necessities with her.
Now, there she was, having that same feeling, and it left her fearing some horrible hallucination was about to set in.
The baby whimpered in her arms.
He’d fussed for nearly ten minutes.
Where’s Veylo?
He’d said it was feeding time and had gone to retrieve a bottle, but Maggie wondered why it was taking him so long. She was starting to worry he had forgotten about Jeroda.
Jeroda, she thought with contempt.How dare they name my child without my consent?
It wasn’t right that they could strip, not only the rearing of the child, but also the very name from her.
They didn’t even see it as hers. Just the Almighty’s.
Although, she couldn’t allow herself to be too bothered by it, considering all the efforts she’d taken to prevent the birth.
I didn’t want him. I shouldn’t want him now.
But she did. It wasn’t a new feeling. It was the feeling that had steadily grown since she’d given birth. Now that she sat there, cradling her own baby in her arms, she desperately wanted it even more, yet even with him right there with her, that dream seemed so far away. This wasn’t raising a child. This was babysitting so it could become a great weapon for the Almighty.
A loud sound, like an engine revving came from outside. She’d heard the sound several times since she’d been in the room, but had been too absorbed with her child to figure out where it was coming from.
She approached a window on the wall adjacent to the crib and parted the blinds. At least a mile from the house she was imprisoned in, a series of warehouses had been carved into a forest that encircled the property, which she was sure had to stretch on for a hundred acres.
An eighteen-wheeler drove across a road, from the warehouse. Men in orange traffic patrol vests directed him onto the road.
She was relieved to see she wasn’t far from civilization.
The door creaked open.
Veylo entered, wearing a burgundy suit.
“How is the dear mother?” he asked.
She didn’t respond, as she didn't believe Veylo cared how she really felt.
He held a bottle in his hand. Formula.
Another thing she’d been stripped of: nursing a child. She certainly wouldn’t have been eager to have a baby suckling and clinging to her breasts until they were nothing, but she wished she’d had the option—a moment where she decided how she would have preferred it.
