She still remembers that day. That day, when she found out that she was truly pregnant. She knew long ago anyway, that there was something inside her, just hanging onto its dear life. As time went on, her worries grew along with the size of her stomach – without a father, she would not be able to take care of her. She knew that the baby was female – she just knew. That only made her problems worse – females are an unwanted burden in her society. She fought with herself, trying desperately to convince her sceptical mind, that she can take care of her child, that she can provide it with the joys of life. In fact, anything – as long as the it lives to see the day. Anything.
In the end, however, she played God, trying to take the fate of the child into her own delicate hands. Perhaps, the child was never meant to be born...its destiny, decided within her womb. Nonetheless, in exchange for her freedom, she is cursed with her own thoughts. Those two words – “If only”, are persistent – they inch themselves into her vocabulary, refusing to depart from every sentence she utters. “If only…”…she trails off, recalling the event once again, in the theatre of her mind.
As she held the baby for the first time, she resisted the instant connection – the child seemed to know everything about her, staring into her spirit with her closed eyes. Her own heart softened a little, but she knew that the child couldn’t stay in this mortal, sadistic world. It was a tough decision, which scarred her whole life. She quickly gave the child to the nurse, refusing to look at it any further. She did not want to get attached to something she would lose very soon. As soon as she was alone, she prepared an herbal mix – poison, used to kill vermin and such. She herself felt like a vermin, and she still does.
Soon, it was over. Over and done with. Finished. The end, just like that. She held the corpse, which felt heavy, like her heart. Tears flowed like the river Styx, and her baby floated along, departing the world it only saw for a brief moment. Its fragile limbs desperately trying to cling on, but yet, washed away by the currents.
Her own tears woke her up from her reminiscence, and returned her to reality. Those beads of sadness mixed with the streams of blood, which soaked her severed wrist as she kneeled on the floor. She knew that she could only forgive herself through her own dead body. A life for a life, which is the mortal rule. As she slowly lost her consciousness, she felt more and more at peace. Her last breath signified the forgiveness of her soul, the release from her sin.
The authorities turned up eventually. The news of her death splashed all over the papers, with twisted stories and revelations overshadowing the truth. By then, she had already left the world for good, to perhaps reunite herself with her child. They found drowned in her own pool of blood, where she laid limp with her arms to her side. Those arms, hopefully, shall embrace the child on the other side.
