The night the Rhymer went whack

44

Since her escape, those first few months were hell. By the minute, it seemed as if the world was dissolving deeper into anarchy. Soon realizing she was pregnant, she tried her best to right the ship for the good of her unborn child.

Having pure confidence in his powers, Sharissa still feared for her son. She knew the world, knowing it only takes one mistake, one slip up and your life could end. She also knew her son, his frailty and unfamiliarity mirroring his strong desire. When he asked her for privacy she knew and had anticipated that request seeing how hard he was working to hone his gift, but still she was hesitant not knowing what the immediate future would bring. So sitting just a few stories below in their hidden bomb shelter she was comfortable physically but a wreck emotionally. It’d been days now and she was yearning to return upstairs, but she had agreed: ten days. Ten days to leave her son be.

With nothing but time on her hands, Sharissa sat and thought. Thinking about how it’s just been she and her son, reminiscing as she rubbed her stomach, the scar, the caesarian. The one she did herself, not wanting a baby, not wanting Nick at all. Back then she still had hope. Was the world as terrible as it seemed? She always searched and found the good in people. She smiled, remembering how she would shoo away the predators that rummaged through a corpse’s pockets. Or how she would pick up trash and place it in garbage cans regardless that the streets were overflowing with sewage. Patching the wound of a child, handing out band aids to those in need or saying a prayer with anyone willing to join hands, she did commonly.

She considered herself good, or at the least, tried to do good. Then one day, she went too far, dropping her guard in a world she no longer belonged to. Beaten and robbed, he looked no older than fourteen. Lying face down in the dirt, Sharissa walked over and checked his pulse. Still alive so she dragged him the short block to her house, tended his wounds and a few days later, he was nursed back to health.

With his strength not entirely one hundred percent, he was still strong enough to overpower her, tie her up and repeatedly rape her for days. A final blow to the head left her unconscious, for how long she didn’t know, but he must have thought he killed her and left her for dead. She awoke though, starving, bloody and incoherent and once she realized she was alone she began nurturing herself back to good health.

But she hadn’t learned her lesson.

Thinking that good always outlasted evil, she once again ventured into the unloving streets and once again she was attacked. This time she was able to escape and ran home before the worst could happen. She slammed the door and fell to her knees. Then clutched her purse and pulled out the knife she had stored for protection. She yelled at it, “Good for nothing!” She screamed, upset that she didn’t have the gumption to pull it out. She cried hysterically, and, being seven months pregnant, questioned how could she bring another life into this world.

Numb, she sat on the floor and began cutting, eventually tugging out her child. The pain it took was nothing compared to what she knew her child would bear for its entire life. Unresponsive, still and quiet, she cut her umbilical cord and watched her son plop onto the floor. Breathing deeply, her bloody hands wiped her brow, then promptly, she fainted.

Again timeless, she awoke to a tiny baby quietly squirming between her legs. Sharissa sat and watched for a few moments. How can it be that it’s alive? It sensed her presence, looked up and smiled. Still quiet, he burst into a silent grin, eyes still staring at Mom. He doesn’t know, she thought in response to his beam then used her very last ounce of compassion to pull her newborn son to her bosom and immediately connected with the one true soul left that proved not all was bad in this world.

She now lived for her son, and since that day, this was the longest they had ever been apart. Tears began falling at the sadness of their separation but she smiled proudly, just like her son did seventeen years ago, knowing that she did the best she could in nurturing his young mind, body and soul. But she somehow knew that he no longer belonged to her. His desires to venture had become too strong. He was powerful and his next step was to see how strong, and not even she could stop that.