Still, the end did not justify the means.
Except.
Then, I was a boy without direction, and now I was a father who wanted his son to live an entire life. How far I was willing to go to ensure that happened remained to be seen. While experiences shaped our reasoning, I believed logic could make and break the heart. It was just a matter of choosing what defined you.
Once upon a time, there was a girl called...
Sixty – (Age Unknown)
“Please, God, help me,” I cried, gripping my stomach and begging the cramps to stop. My eyes flew around the dimly lit room, searching for salvation, knowing it wouldn’t come. Behind these four dark walls, only the devil remained present. Always. And he never showed mercy. I’d done this many times before and failed him twice. The punishment had been horrible. After the success of the last time, he’d promised my freedom. It never came, and now, for the sixth time, I grimaced through the pain.
“Please.” My body weary, I lifted tear-glazed eyes. “I can’t,” I pleaded, more for the life that would soon bleed out of me than my suffering. No one deserved the impending misery that would surely come, least of all an innocent baby.
Dressed in pale blue scrubs over a white shirt and black trousers, his green eyes burning with excitement, my tormentor stared down at the apex between my legs, his latex-gloved fingers holding my widespread ankles tight, preventing any movement.
“You can and you will, pet,” his words pure ice, his tone left no room for argument.
Another cramp tightened my abdomen and a scream ripped from my throat. I breathed hard, trying to curb its effect, it didn’t work. “Give me something for the pain, please,” slipped through my trembling lips, knowing it was futile.
His livid eyes scoured my soul, his expression the usual menace I’d lived with for so long. “It’s time.” He pushed up my legs, readying me. “Now,” he demanded.
For once, I desperately wanted to defy him, tell him to go to hell, and let my life wither into nothingness. Yet, for every sunny cloud, a dark gray one always hovered nearby. Knowing I had no choice but to obey, I gripped the crumpled white sheets, heaved on a harsh inhale, and pushed. “God, please,” I cried, heaviness surging between my legs, pain wracking my body.
“Another,” he commanded, giving me no chance to breathe. I pushed hard, every inch of me screaming its anguish. “I can see the head,” he grunted. “Push!”
Minutes later, through the painful discomfort, lightness descended around my mid-section before I felt the new life ease out between my legs amid the slippery wetness. Immediately, his hands dropped, snipping the cord that bound me to the baby I didn’t want. There was no sound when he lifted the small bundle, wiping the mucus and blood from its face. Silently, I hoped none would come. That the child had died before it took its first breath. My fingers squeezed the sheet beneath me, desperate for my prayer to be answered.
Then his scowl morphed into a greedy smile and his eager eyes shifted from the baby, now wrapped in a pink blanket, to look at me. “You did good, pet. You gave me a little girl who hasn’t made a sound yet, but her pretty eyes have recognized her Master.”
My heart deflated while my soul cried silent tears. I dared not show him my disappointment. “Can I see her?” Despite my aching body, I pushed up onto her elbows.
“Get yourself cleaned up first,” he ordered, leaving the room with the baby.
Glaring at the white sheet stained with my blood, I dropped back to the bed and let my tears flow. “How could you?” I stared heavenward, cursing its so-called existence. “She’s innocent,” I urged. “You couldn’t save me, but please save her. Take her soul. It will be happier.”
With painstaking slowness, I slipped my legs off the side of the bed and stood. Immediately my knees buckled and I leaned back against the mattress. Breathing slowly, I tried several times more. When I could finally stand without shaking, I ripped the soiled sheet from the bed and carried my aching body to the corner that served as my bathroom. I filled the large bucket, and each time the water hit my skin, I winced against the cold. By the time I’d managed to wash away the filth between my legs, I felt weak and shivered uncontrollably.
