I picked myself up and dusted off my jeans. The blood begins to soak through random areas where the knife met the brown flesh that covers me. I could hear him walking behind me with his newly welcomed limp I had bestowed upon him. “I will not hurt you,” he said. The beating of my heart, going one hundred miles per beat, could be heard across the swamp basin. I enlisted the help of the courage within me to walk faster to the road. The streams of blood made their way down my blanched face. My cries became louder. My fear became massive. The darkness of the swamp makes it harder for me to see what lies ahead of me. I hold myself up against every other tree of the Atchafalaya Swamp. The trees were hovering over me like protectors. The taste of metallic in my mouth causes me to spit out the blood that has accumulated from the second punch to my face. The drops of blood appear faster than I can wipe them off.

I continue on this treacherous journey.

Soon, I see a light. “I will not hurt you, let me make you mine,” echoed through the trees. I run faster towards the light, tripping on roots and swampy sediment. I smell the gravel nearing. As I prepare to take my final step, I am caught up in his arms. He holds me from behind, and as he nears his mouth to my neck, he places his hands on my abdomen and gently states I will let you fre,e “but if anyone asks, tell them we’re fine.” He takes his final bite and releases me.

Part Deux

I awoke in a clammy state. I sat up and cupped both hands against my stomach as if securing what was growing inside. I walked slowly to my shower due to soreness surrounding my knee and calf. Upon entering my restroom, I looked down and saw many areas with dried blood on both my thighs and legs. I make my way inside my porcelain white tub and sit on the green IKEA alligator shaped tub mat. The water hits me with such strength as if lying at the bottom of Niagara Falls. I allow all my fears to wash away with the freshly watered blood spots. I rejoice in knowing I am safe within the walls of my home.

As I look in the mirror, I see the bite mark, a clear remembrance of the night before. Unable to erase it from memory, I accept my fate and begin to wonder how will I explain the growing belly to family and friends. Who will believe the fact, the child growing within me is only half human?

I put on a loose turquoise and gold bohemian styled blouse and make my way over to the grocery store. I have been unsure if the cravings for medium rare steaks are due to my pregnancy or if the unborn has started to communicate with me. While trying to multitask in pushing the cart and strategically hiding my rounded stomach, I am approached by one of the elders in the town. “My darling, you must be careful in roaming the town streets during daylight in your condition,” she said. I am beyond shocked as to her knowing.

“Ms. Cordelia, I am not sure to what you’re referring to?” I replied. “Child, I have envisioned you with his child for many, many centuries. You were born to bring life to his child”, she stated.

In that instance, I felt movement.

Fin

The crackling of the wood burning from outside paraded itself into my living room.
I was forever frozen from the moment his iced lips made contact with my warm, sun-kissed flesh.
I was in agony. The piercing pain traveled down my warped, ageless spine. I could feel it jackknifing from side to side within my uterine cavity. I wanted the moment to speed through like a car on an autobahn.

The gush of pink-toned flesh and liquid gushed from between my legs. It began its descent from the nourishing sac it floated in for thirty-eight weeks and four days down the ridged flesh tunnel of my body.
He was born.

His blue, lifeless body was placed on my chest. I was tol,d “He just needs his mother’s warmth”. I cocooned his body within my fatty flesh. The sound of life never emerged.

I have had life taken from me, yet again.

©Valerie