Empty...
I did not want this child. I never wanted to be a mother. I had bigger things to protect, cities to serve, a thin blue line to walk -- not just between the law and criminals, but between kindred and everyone else. I was bigger, more important, more useful as something other than a simple mother. That was for women who had nothing better to do with their bodies or their time. Perhaps Sebastian was right, I really was just as damn proud as the rest of them, in my own dirty little way. Arrogant in my own morals and strength. Ah, the lessons we learn.
Despite that strength, despite the determination not to care, even I wasn't strong enough to fight off nature. Instinct. Debasing or not, he was my child. I carried him for seven months. I never smoked, I ate better, I slept longer than I'd ever slept before in my life. I snuck looks at baby websites and magazines when I thought no one was looking. I had dreams of a nursery. I even started to sing to him, towards the end there. I know, me, singing? Foolish. But he was my child. My flesh and blood. My chance to actually, truly give back to this world.
Not just my chance. All our chances. Pure potential, hope, renewal. A chance for Audra to have her quiet evening, baby waiting to be fed, to remember what it was to be human and maternal. To have the baby she truly always deserved. She could have probably taught me a lot, she wanted this far more than I. We could have helped each other, and helped the baby even more. Given him ever chance we both missed. Isn't that all anyone ever wants for their children? A better life than they themselves had?
And for Simon, for Evan... the lesson of family. Not being orphaned, that parents can love and fight for their children. Both men losing themselves to the beast, but willing to pledge life and limb to take care of this one little boy. I know it was crazy. I know we all thought Audra was crazy at first, but sometimes she's the most brilliant (if least sane) person in this whole household. We all wanted this child, admit it or not. Seven months in, and I thought we had made it.
He had survived the brood, plagues, a massive war in Prague, blood-mad Gangrel, fires, hundreds of Kindred and thousands of criminals on a daily basis. He'd been so strong and I was so arrogant. I thought we could get through anything. So I walked into the den of wolves, the hateful, insane family I always knew I had. I thought maybe I had been wrong. Maybe Lexie, Treyce, Helena, everyone who told me the Crassus knew what they were doing and only did the best for their families...Maybe I had been a child seeing imaginary monsters in her closet...
I wasn't. Not even a single night in their care and I was drugged, paralyzed, witness to more horrific nightmares that I could construct with my own imagination. And then they took him. Time to extract, they said...Time to extract! Like I was some sort of fucking science experiment! And then there was sleep, and I couldn't fight it... I couldn't fight for him...
When I woke up in the hospital, I knew what they'd say before the lie even touched the heavy nurse's lips. Miscarriage. I had a miscarriage. At seven months? With a c-section scar on my stomach? Stupid, stupid fools, playing with me. They didn't care if I believed. I was nothing to them. I screamed. I fought again. And I slept.
I woke the second time in my car. 20 miles from the New York City Parkway, at a rest stop, slumped over like a napping driver. The fight was gone. All I felt then was empty. So very, very empty. I'm not certain I knew the meaning of that word until now...
Despite that strength, despite the determination not to care, even I wasn't strong enough to fight off nature. Instinct. Debasing or not, he was my child. I carried him for seven months. I never smoked, I ate better, I slept longer than I'd ever slept before in my life. I snuck looks at baby websites and magazines when I thought no one was looking. I had dreams of a nursery. I even started to sing to him, towards the end there. I know, me, singing? Foolish. But he was my child. My flesh and blood. My chance to actually, truly give back to this world.
Not just my chance. All our chances. Pure potential, hope, renewal. A chance for Audra to have her quiet evening, baby waiting to be fed, to remember what it was to be human and maternal. To have the baby she truly always deserved. She could have probably taught me a lot, she wanted this far more than I. We could have helped each other, and helped the baby even more. Given him ever chance we both missed. Isn't that all anyone ever wants for their children? A better life than they themselves had?
And for Simon, for Evan... the lesson of family. Not being orphaned, that parents can love and fight for their children. Both men losing themselves to the beast, but willing to pledge life and limb to take care of this one little boy. I know it was crazy. I know we all thought Audra was crazy at first, but sometimes she's the most brilliant (if least sane) person in this whole household. We all wanted this child, admit it or not. Seven months in, and I thought we had made it.
He had survived the brood, plagues, a massive war in Prague, blood-mad Gangrel, fires, hundreds of Kindred and thousands of criminals on a daily basis. He'd been so strong and I was so arrogant. I thought we could get through anything. So I walked into the den of wolves, the hateful, insane family I always knew I had. I thought maybe I had been wrong. Maybe Lexie, Treyce, Helena, everyone who told me the Crassus knew what they were doing and only did the best for their families...Maybe I had been a child seeing imaginary monsters in her closet...
I wasn't. Not even a single night in their care and I was drugged, paralyzed, witness to more horrific nightmares that I could construct with my own imagination. And then they took him. Time to extract, they said...Time to extract! Like I was some sort of fucking science experiment! And then there was sleep, and I couldn't fight it... I couldn't fight for him...
When I woke up in the hospital, I knew what they'd say before the lie even touched the heavy nurse's lips. Miscarriage. I had a miscarriage. At seven months? With a c-section scar on my stomach? Stupid, stupid fools, playing with me. They didn't care if I believed. I was nothing to them. I screamed. I fought again. And I slept.
I woke the second time in my car. 20 miles from the New York City Parkway, at a rest stop, slumped over like a napping driver. The fight was gone. All I felt then was empty. So very, very empty. I'm not certain I knew the meaning of that word until now...