Hopeful of what will be on the other side if I never do.
Terrified if I do stop, I’ll be forced to meet my own reflection, forced to witness everything I’ve done. So I chase the numbness blood loss and pain provide. My very own cocktail of chemicals, like the pills I’d tricked Delilah into taking, because that medicated numbness made it easier to manipulate her. Then I’ll be able to manipulate myself into living for another day, contrary to the evidence of my wrongs screaming at me from a pillow with one small dent in the middle and the reminder of Delilah’s fake smile when I told her I was leaving.
45
DELILAH
Questions plague me even though I now have one answer about my baby. I’ve spent months wracking my brain to remember if Helene mentioned if I had a son or a daughter. She doesn’t speak to me anymore, but the reintroduction of regular meals to my diet has made me more alert. My back is against the wall without Kane’s face as I talk to the stars he painted as per our new routine.
“How do I miss someone I never knew?”
I was never a mother. Giving birth doesn’t entitle me to the label when I forgot they existed. I don’t remember seeing my stomach grow or feeling them kick.
Did they kick? I don’t know.
But I still have this deep sense of loss without any real reason. I’m not permitted the label of being their mother and I’m not allowed to grieve for them.
I wrap my arms around my knees, drawing them closer as I whisper, “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry for not being stronger. I’m sorry for not running away.”
My fingertips automatically find the scar on my knee, tracing the line as my vision blurs and more questions sprout. Iremember climbing out of the window, being stuck, the doctors dragging me back inside. There wasn’t a bump under my hospital gown. Is that why I finally tried to escape?
I close my eyes, attempting to part the fuzziness to remember exactly what happened.
Eighteen Years Old
The doctor hasn’t visitedfor two days. Two days without drugs. Two days of testing my muscles in small increments. It took hours to be able to move my toes, then feet. As soon as I feel confident I’ll be able to move my legs, I lift them from the bed. Painful tingles shoot up my legs as I place my weight on my feet. I have to grip the handrail I’m usually bound to as I stand to avoid my body crumpling. But I manage to stand.
I look down at my gown floating around my body that feels wrong now as I slowly bring my hand to my stomach. The weight is missing, empty. It’s empty when it shouldn’t be and my chest is sore behind the stained gown. I hesitantly lift the collar away from my chest to see what caused the stains, only to see my deflated stomach.
My baby.
They took my baby like my mother planned. I was supposed to stay awake to get them to safety. They’d get to live a normal life, unlike me.
I stumble forward, catching myself on the edge of the chair in front of the window with hope at the sight of a small gap between the window and the metal grate. The first fucking hope I’ve had. Tilting my head, I look at the ground to see if there’s agap. A couple of inches. I’ll be able to force myself out through it or bend the bars to find my baby.
My stomach rolls as I pull on the window sash. I force it away, knowing I have to find them or they’ll sell them. They’ll hurt them, make them confused like I am with all of their abuse. I manage to find some reserve energy to climb out of the small window opening, feet first. The gown gets stuck on the latch, exposing me to anyone who may pass. It’s hard to be ashamed when I’ve experienced worse than a stranger looking at me, so I keep moving until I’m upright between the window and the metal bars caging me in.
The bars at the side have corroded from a drainpipe dripping on them. Finally, fucking finally, there’s something on my side. It’ll take less energy to bend them than squeeze myself under the bars. But as I grab the middle of the rusted metal, it crumbles, leaving a sharp jagged spike.
The door inside the hospital room slams open.
“She was here,” Anna says as I duck down, pushing myself through the narrow space.
I tried to find them.
I did. I got the scar because I tried to find my baby, but they stopped me.
Whatever questions I have don’t matter anymore. A name, a gender, a fucking age isn’t needed when she took all those things away from them.
All I have to do is wait for Kane to come back. I didn’t make him any promises about who would be with me when he did, so I smile at the sea that saved my baby when I couldn’t as I stand.My steps are lighter, my smile wider with my resolve hardening as I walk out of the room.
Peace washes over me as I get closer to Helene, so much so I nearly skip down the stairs. When I enter the kitchen, she’s already there, standing at the counter, steeping her fucking tea. “Would you like something to eat now, sweet girl?”
“I could eat.” I smile walking over to her.
She abandons her teacup to take out different ingredients from the fridge. Kane’s new diet plan includes exact portions for protein, fat, and carbs like he’s a dietician. As Helene sets the chicken and vegetables on the counter, I lean forward to take a knife from the chopping block. She turns back to the fridge, collecting something else he’s demanded I eat.
I drive the sharp point of the long boning knife into her back.
