The Lost One

The Lost One
Now:

I stand on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean and wonder at the beauty of the world. How is it that such beauty can exist in a world with such evil? How is it that a woman like me, a good, honest, moral, Christian, can become so corrupted, so lost? How did I get here? How did this become my only option?

One Year Ago:

I sit in an exam room, waiting, listening to the clock, each tick slower and decisively louder than the last. It seems like I’ve been here an eternity, time stretches infinitely backward and forward with no sign of coming or going, only waiting. Only waiting and anticipating and hoping and fearing. The slowing time nurtures my fear. I feel it growing inside me, a monster devouring everything in its path, leaving me empty, hollow, almost hopeless. Almost. A small coal of hope smolders deep down refusing to be extinguished. I look to my husband, Charlie, sitting in a chair identical to mine only an arm’s length away. And yet he seems so distant. He too waits, his face expressionless, his eyes staring at nothing. I wonder if this is how I look to him. Is there a silent monster eating his insides as well? I want to ask him, but I don’t.
There is a knock on the door, the handle turns and the doctor enters. I look to his face, trying to read it, looking for any sign that will silence the monster and stoke the coal. I see his eyes; cold, icy blue and emotionless. I see his mouth; relaxed, neither smiling nor frowning, his lips sitting in limbo. There’s nothing there, and yet the monster grows. He gives us the news, the terrible hollowing news. The light inside me dies as the life inside me had before. There is no heartbeat.


Charlie convinces me to leave the apartment. It is the first time since the miscarriage. The streets are empty, barren. Everyone has gone off to work or school, buzzing through their lives. I have nowhere to go, so I walk aimlessly down the streets and alleyways, doing nothing, saying nothing, thinking nothing. The silence does me good. I stop and study a building, a church with a high spire and beautiful stained glass windows. Mother Mary smiles down at me from one, she invites me in. I accept. I walk to the center of the church, kneel and begin to pray. “Please” one word, one word with more meaning than some novels, one word that said it all. “Please”.
Someone sits behind me. I don’t turn and look, why can’t they sit somewhere else? The church is empty; can’t they see I want to be left alone? I am angry, furious with this stranger that interrupts my peace.
“Hello Margaret.” His voice is glass, smooth and cold; it sends chills dancing up and down my spine. It is the thing that nightmares are made of. I turn slowly, fearing what I will see. I expect a monster, huge and fearsome, bathed in fire come to drag me to hell. It is only a man. It is only a man, and yet somehow so much more.
“I said hello, Margaret. Where are your manners?” He stares at me, waiting.
“Hello” I whisper, then, “how do you know my name?”
“Oh, let’s not play this game dear. You know who I am, and I’m here to help you, to give you what you want.” I wrap my arms around my stomach, hugging my empty belly. There is only one thing I want. I’m terrified but I lean forward, listening.
“I have a proposition for you. I will grant you the gift of life, times two, twins. One shall belong to you and Charlie and the other shall be mine. You will raise them both never knowing which is which until I come for my son. These are my terms.” He pauses then, and stares into my eyes, into my soul, he sees my weakness. He knows I can’t refuse. He smiles, a cold joyless smile, “So we have a deal.” He holds out his hand. I do the same, I hesitate, right before we touch, everything that is good inside me battles, trying to stop me, trying to save me. But it fails, our hands meet, the deal is struck. Without another word he rises and walks down the aisle to the door. I wonder to myself how it is he could enter this holy place.
“I come to be anywhere someone is willing to let me in.” His voice echoes in my head. I stand and walk home. This is no place for me now. 

The doctor calls, good news he says. Good news it is. The best news, the worst news. I tell Charlie, he is happy, so very, very happy. He only knows the good. I don’t tell him about my deal, he wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’m not sure I believe me. I keep it to myself and move on with my life as if nothing is wrong; perhaps if I continue on this way it will become true.
I’m sleeping, I’m dreaming, I’m walking. My hands grip the handle of a stroller. I want to look down to see the baby, but I can’t. I know it’s there because I can hear it laughing. I try to stop and look, but I can’t. I just keep walking until I reach the end of the street. I wait there watching the heavy traffic flow by like a giant metal river. I take a deep breath, tighten my grip, and shove it forward, releasing it at the last possible moment. The baby laughs again. I turn and slowly walk away. I don’t want to see, I hear though, the sounds haunt me. I wake, I cry.
Charlie pulls me close, still more asleep then not. “It’s ok baby, it was just a nightmare, go back to sleep.” I lay here in his arms, listening to his heartbeat, trying to rid myself of the pictures flashing in my head. Eventually I drift off, there are no more dreams this night.

I arrive home from my sonogram, pictures in hand. More good news, the baby looks perfect, with a strong heartbeat, times two. Twins. Charlie is overjoyed. I’m terrified. But I keep it hidden well and he returns to work. I leave the house, once again wandering the streets. I return to the church, Mother Mary no longer beckons to me, it must be the same window, but it seems so different, so much colder, threatening, turning me away. I climb the steps, and open the door. The church is empty once again. I feel sick. There is nothing for me here anymore. Tears sting my eyes as I turn and run. No one can save me.
I have the dream again. I wake up drenched in sweat and tears, shaking horrified. I roll over looking for comfort from Charlie, but he’s not there. I want to get up and find him, but I can’t. I see shapes in the darkness, clawed hands reaching for me threatening to shred my skin. I’m surrounded by demons in the dark. I close my eyes wishing them away and wait for Charlie to come save me. He never does. I wake the next morning, he is still gone, another night spent at the office.

The doctor recommends I see a psychiatrist for my stress. He sets me up an appointment with a man named Dr. Vale. I don’t tell Charlie, he wouldn’t approve, but I go. He has me sit on a sofa and wait while he reviews my chart. I wonder at this practice of making patients wait, and wait and wait. It seems like I spend more time waiting for doctors than they spend so called helping me. Of course there’s nothing I can do about it for he holds all the power, and I hold none. Finally he looks up, he asks me about this pregnancy and the one before. I stick to the medical facts, I don’t tell him about my deal, and I don’t tell him about my dream. He wouldn’t understand, no one understands. He learns nothing from me, and I learn nothing from him. I won’t come back.

I no longer leave the house. I see demons everywhere; they tease and taunt me, reminding me of my weakness. So I stay and I wait. At first Charlie tried to get me up and out of the house, but he has since given up. He’s hardly home at all now. I am all alone. I have accepted my fate. Everyday my belly grows, I feel them moving now. Every day I get closer to bring this evil into the world. Every day I get further from salvation.

I have that dream again, it now comes every night. I lie awake alone again. I hear the door open, Charlie has come home, it is 3 am. I hear him in the kitchen. I rise and go to him, wanting comfort. I smell a strange mixture of alcohol and perfume. He’s not even attempting to hide it anymore. A terrible fearsome anger comes over me. I no longer have control of myself. Something has taken over me, something dark and twisted. I am a spectator in my own body. I watch myself reach for a knife from the block, I pull it out slowly. I walk towards Charlie, his back is turned. I watch as my arm raises, gripping the knife tight. He turns around, surprised to see my standing behind him. The knife goes in, piercing his abdomen. His eyes widen in pain or fear or both. The knife goes in and out over and over. I can do nothing but watch. His blood paints the kitchen crimson and stains my clothes and skin. I can take no more, I black out.
I open my eyes; I am lying on the floor. I have no idea how much time has passed. Charlie is dead. I stand, not knowing what to do. I decide to shower. I rub my skin until it’s raw, and the blood has disappeared. I decide what I have to do; I only hope I have the strength and that it is not too late. I go to the car and drive to the shore.

Now

I stand on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean and wonder at the beauty of the world. How is it that such beauty can exist in a world with such evil? How is it that a woman like me, a good, honest, moral, Christian, can become so corrupted, so lost? How did I get here? How did this become my only option? Is it my only option? Charlie is dead because of me. I can’t be responsible for any more. Yes. This is my only option. I take a deep breath. I pray one last time. “Forgive me Mother Mary.” I fall.