My child. My. Child.
The words, so unnaturally they form in the depths of my throat. Yet as they slip from my tongue… So right.
That is my child.
Her black curls cradle her face oh so perfectly, each spiral moving of its own accord in a stunning resemblance to the Medusa who tempted Zeus so. And how she tempts me.
I wish to possess her deepest desires and anxieties, to be the breast she rests upon in times of need. To be the symbol of beauty and love that shapes her future. To be her mother.
A giggle bubbles from her throat as I approach. She knows – senses – that her mother is near. That I am near. Oh, my child. Worry not. Our time is soon. I cannot care for you just yet. I need just a few more moments to prepare.
There’s not long left, now.
My hands are contaminated, I know this. But how you tempt me. My hands, though tainted, shall envelop you in the warmth of my love.
Do not cry my child, mother is here now. The bad people are gone. They can no longer keep me away.
Do you see that? That hand print is a sign of my love.
Every day I watched you – I couldn’t leave you unsupervised in their care. Everyday I rested my hand against that window pane, preparing myself for the day I could rest it against the curve of your neck.
Hush those tears. I know you are too young to understand, but just know this.
I love you, my child.
They’re not here to tell you lies anymore.
Mother. Father. Cruel lies. Evil lies.
You are mine and no other’s. I have known this since the beginning of time.
You are mine.
[This story is a previously written one, in which I attempted to take on a different style of writing from my usual one. It is a very open-ended text that could be interpreted as you wish, however it was written with one specific idea/concept in mind. Maybe some day I’ll share my own interpretation of the text I’ve written]