Chapter 5.32 – Starting a new chapter

Posted: May 11, 2015 in Generation 5
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5.32

Red eyes.

I dreamt of them often. Saw them in my dreams. Felt them on my skin. In my womb… Every time I closed my eyes, and managed to sink into a restless slumber, I saw him, and her, and all the possibility that existed within me. But not as I knew it, not as I would know it. I saw my baby, a mix of Cassiel’s humanity, and my broken fragility, and always those eyes. Red, and Crimson. Dark, and hungry. Hungry for more than I could give to it.

It terrified me beyond any nightmare I’d ever had. This child, and the possibilities of both it’s tormented mind, and my own, clashing together, struggling against each other. Just like I had with my mother. Just like I’d seen in Arkin’s mind. It seemed almost natural to grow to despise those closest to you, who gave you life. It seemed natural to hate all the little things that defined them.

My mother’s sensitive soul for example, broken down after years of abuse and paranoia. When I was younger, and weaker, lost between my world and the next, she’d been so terrified of losing me, that she’d eventually pushed me away. I still remember the way her face would twist and crumple when she thought that I wasn’t looking, and the way her voice would break. Of course I knew the reasons why, she’d lost a child before, and the grief had almost killed her, but it didn’t make it any easier.

5.32 (2)

Would this child hate me for all the things that made me, me? The fact that I wasn’t soft, and peaceful, that I didn’t love without fear, or laugh without consequence. I would be cold, and distant, and perhaps my nightmares would tear through the house on dark nights. Perhaps I would avoid watching the news, and seeing the headlines in the newspaper, perhaps like my mother, I would let fear rule our lives.

Or would it hate me because I would bring it into a dying world?

Because I was knowingly sacrificing it’s soul to eternity, just like my own?

5.32 (3)

The anxiety inside my heart deepened as days slowly turned to nights, and weeks into months. It grew like a sickness inside of my mind, taunting me at every corner, and stalking me every time I shut my eyes. I waited for Arkin, like I would the morning paper, sick anticipation burning in my muscles. My skin grew pale, and the shadows beneath my eyes heavy and bleak. What if my child became a monster, could I… Could I… Destroy it?

It wasn’t as though my heart was full of love for the thing inside of me. But the pull of my lycanthropy coursed through me, creating a strong desire to protect my pack. My little devil. At least I had that. I might not be  a good mother. I might not be able to do the things that needed to be done, or read bedtime stories, or play dress up, but I would protect it, regardless of the cost to myself.

And perhaps that made me understand my parents just a little bit better. All the things they’d done, the good, the bad, the frantic… Maybe it was their way, their crazy, stupid way of keeping me safe, of keeping me alive…

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I sigh running my hands along the spine of my grandmothers book, the Ravenwood legacy… I don’t know why I’d taken such an interest in it again, or why I’d scoured through the pages making notes, and cutting out old newspaper clippings to place inside of it. Maybe I was curious, or maybe a piece of me felt that this was important. That any tiny scrap of information I could find about my family was impossibly significant, and perhaps it was. To the past, to the future, to eternity. There was a reason that things were happening, there was a reason I was born dead, and I had to know why, and what that reason was. Looking down at the pages, I hear familiar words bubbling in my head.

Yours is not the only family that they’ve taken an interest in…… I don’t know what they want with you, or why they’ve gone to such lengths to keep you and your family…..  It makes me nervous… Be careful..”

Somewhere in my family’s history it was there, the answer to why me, why us. And if it wasn’t in these pages, then it would be in the ones that I would write, or my blood would write. I almost felt stupid cataloging the details of my family’s lives, and fact checking the little details, but it was a nervous compulsion, now that I had started, I couldn’t stop. I had to know what linked us all together. Why me, and not my brother? Why Vivian, and not hers? Of course he had died, but they’d brought me back hadn’t they? He even had a kid before his death. Why had Constance been chosen over her siblings? Someone had to be chosen, but why her, why us?

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I drum my fingers over the curve of my hand, my eyes glassy and distant. Nick had no blood relation to my mother so of course he was never in the running. Sampson on the other hand, he had the right blood, he was alive, and fertile, even though it was unlikely he would ever have children of his own. But if they could bring me back to life, couldn’t they determine a single action he would make, a single choice to affect where his life would take him, and to whom? I suppress a shiver.

I’d found myself tied to Cassiel before I’d even known why, or who he was. I’d somehow survived the attack that had killed my squad, and found myself bleeding on his doorstep. It had been a routine mission that had just so happened to go wrong. It was the middle of no where that I just so happened to stumble upon the cure. Cas had agreed to live amongst his enemies, and love one, and before what was meant to be his untimely demise, he’d knocked me up. It was all to convenient. Too neat. Perhaps we weren’t as free as we thought we were.

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I read over the pages again, adding in notes, and lines to new stories, and new chapters. Filling in the missing years between Constance and now. My hands describe the life that I knew Aleksi had lived, and the suffering he’d survived. I pause when I write my mother’s name, Vivian, who had grown up without a place in the world. Vivian, my mother, who had spoken on behalf of the pureblood Azazel. Vivian, who had her unborn child ripped away from her in front of the world. My mother who was locked up, and tortured and beaten. Who had a daughter who hated her. Who lost the only thing that kept her demons at bay. I pause, my fingers lost between a tremble and clarity.

She had spent her life suffering. We all had. But could you compare Vivian’s pain to Elizabeth’s? Vivian had been held hostage for months, raped, beaten, she had almost lost everyone that she had ever loved, and known. Elizabeth had just been a lonely girl in a lonely world who ran away from home to find peace, and love… Eventually with the guy she ran away from. Those two stories weren’t comparable. You couldn’t compare it to Aleksi’s life either. Just like you couldn’t compare all of my suffering to the life Constance had lived.

But despite that, we’d all lived in pain, and torment, for however briefly. And if suffering was the thing that tied us all together, beyond blood, then who was watching?

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My eyes focus on the point on the top of my palm that had been stabbed in my dream. If I looked at it closely enough, I think I might even see a faint shimmer from the magic. The urge to drive the pen through my hand, to release the magic was almost painful. I wanted someone I could talk about this with, I wanted someone who could understand what it was that waited for me on the other side. And a part of me just wanted to end it.

Of course Arkin wasn’t here.

And there was no demon tightening its grip around my neck.

But knowing that didn’t stop the panic, knowing that didn’t make any difference at all.

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The door clicks open, and Cassiel sighs deeply as he walks through. Slumping down on the couch beside me, I can’t help but notice the darkness under his eyes almost match my own. And the tightness of his muscles is almost identical, until his hands shuffle across the fabric in the space between us, finding my hands awaiting his. His lips curve ever so slightly as he suppresses an exhausted yawn.

“Tough day, huh?” I murmur softly. The brilliant blue of my eyes resting on the gold of his own.

“I just don’t get it…” He says softly, running a hand through his hair, his eyes almost glum. “We’re preparing for an attack on both sides. Vampire, and… And human… They’re on the news all the time, political extremists, going on about how we’re keeping the cure for ourselves, how we don’t really want a cure at all. How can they say that? and the worst thing is… The worst thing is…” He pauses, as though he can’t quite bring himself to say it.

5.32 (9)

“The worst thing is, people actually believe it.” I finish the sentence off for him, caressing his cheeks. For a moment his face crumples, and he buries his face into my hands. A twinge of pity runs through me. He didn’t belong anywhere anymore. Cas wasn’t one of us, a supernatural, but he didn’t see himself as the rest of them, he didn’t align himself with the humans anymore, even though he was one, through and through. “People are scared, they just want something to believe in. Something better than the cure might not happen, or might be years, even decades away. Someone’s gotta be the bad guy.”

“Yeah, but we’re not.” His voice is strained as his eyes focus on me intently. There’s a note of fear in the chords he speaks. “Larka, we’re not. How can they threaten war, and extermination, and… I just don’t understand how they can preach justice, and humanity, when everyday, on the news, they talk about invading here, and taking away, or killing everything they don’t understand, or trust, or want.”

“Good thing you’re not a demon then.” I frown at him. They’d been burning and deleting records from the laboratories for a few months now. Anything relating to the cure was being destroyed, apart from the cure itself, there were no records of anything anymore. It was supposed to be a safety precaution, if any extremist groups broke in, or laid siege to the place, they couldn’t just kill everyone and leave with the data. If the worse did happen, Aleksi was trying to make sure that everyone made it through alive. Or the cure would die alongside them.

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“Don’t be silly, Lark.” Cas sighs again, his voice all to serious. “You, our baby… I can’t lose you, and I can’t stand the things that they say about you, the things they’d gladly allow to happen to you.” Slowly he forces a smile, and runs a hand along my fat, swollen stomach. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bombard you with all the heavy stuff the second I get through the door. A “how was your day? I missed you, babe,” would have been a much better start.”

I smirk at him before pressing my lips against his. “It was fine, this little bugger though didn’t really let me get much rest. It’s been practicing it’s kung fu down there all day.” Finally his smile seems genuine, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he rubs my stomach. “If it keeps it up, I think it might actually break something.”

“I think he’s just eager to come out and meet his mom and dad.” Cas smiles at the thought, relaxing into my body. The thoughts that he had just minutes ago seemed a thousand miles away, either that or he was just good at pretending. But a part of me didn’t believe it, a part of me believed that being here like this made him truly happy.

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He?” I ask raising an eyebrow at him. It was an it. We didn’t know what it was yet. And I hadn’t begun to make guesses, or personalize the thing yet. Was that weird? I brush the thought off.

“Just a hunch, father’s instinct.” He kisses my nose softly with a goofy grin. “By the way, as cute as your nicknames are, we can’t just call him little bugger, and the thing until he’s twenty.”

“If it’s anything like me, little bugger will be all you’ll want to call it.” I shake my head in his direction.

*

5.32 (16)

It happened less than a month later.

The pain explodes through me like a bullet through a gun, tearing through me, forcing a strangled groan from my lips. The pain almost knocks me off of my feet. Gritting my teeth together to silence the screech forming on my lips, my hand shakily clutches at my stomach. I could feel it, him, her, ripping through me, tearing me open. After what seems like hours stuck within the labyrinth of torment, it subsides. I can breathe again, think clearly.

“Cas…” I growl in a shuddered breath. Time warps around me, blurring, and merging together as a rush of liquid pools at my feet. Sweat covers my clammy skin in a thin sheath and drips. For another long moment, the only thing that I’m aware of is the ripping pain coursing through me. I groan again, barely able to stop the screams forming on my lips. “Cas… The baby…” I whimper.

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My brain barely registers the short drive to the hospital, or walking through the doors. I barely notice being lowered onto the hospital bed, and carted through the long, identical hallways to my room. People cluster around me dressed in bright colours and brilliant whites, taking my blood pressure, and pulse, asking me stupid idiotic questions. “How do I feel? How far away are the contractions? How far along am I? Do I need to call anyone?

“Shut up!” I screech in between pants. Uncertainty bubbles on my lips, as does anger and regret. It’s too late to turn back now, even if I so desperately want to. I’m not ready. I can’t do this. “Get this thing out of me!” I beg as another contraction bursts through me, splitting me apart. The doctor shouts orders at me, which Cassiel chants with enthusiasm.

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Breathe, push, breathe, push… It’s like the idiot has forgotten how to speak, and Cassiel’s entire vocabulary has been replaced by those two words. What the hell does he think that I’m doing? Just having a nice, relaxing massage from the INSIDE of my god damned body? I groan loudly, sweat covers every inch of my body, as I struggle to get this thing out of me. I always thought woman exaggerated the pain of giving birth, but no. I was mistaken. I was so wrong.

“Breathe, Larka. That’s it.” Cassiel coos softly. But the sound of his voice just sends me into another rage.

“I hate you!” I scream at the top of my lungs. I can’t hold his hand without shattering every single little bone, at this point though, it wouldn’t even compare to what I was going through, not even by a god damned fraction. I grip into the fabric of the bed, thinking up wild punishments and the joy of this all being over. I glare evilly at his stupid smiling face. “I’m going to kill y- Ughh…” I breathe out heavily.

5.32 (15)

“Push, baby, push, we’re so close.” He chants, remembering every single stupid phrase and word from the baby books that he had read. I groan again, this time louder, it felt like this kid was ripping through me, and tearing me apart. “Keep going, Lark, push-“

“Shut up!” I screech, in a low warning growl, but the threat barely even registers. He’s to caught up in the experience, that he doesn’t get to feel, but I could make him feel it. I could let him know how much fun I’m having. Before I can continue the thought, another scream tears through me. “This is all your fault-” I growl through gritted teeth. “I hate you-” Breathe... “For knocking-“ Breathe. “Me up…” Breathe… “We’re- Are- Never- Ever- Having- Sex- Again!” I pant, sweat dripping off of my brow.

5.32 (14)

“Almost there, one last push.” A nurse says encouragingly, apparently deaf to my idle threats, and promises. As deaf as Cas is who just keeps smiling and chanting like an idiot. This is it, I think, my brain foggy with exhaustion and pain. I scream, loudly, cursing Cassiel one last time. And then the room is a flurry of movement. For a long, agonising moment, all there is is silence.

And then a baby cries.

5.32 (17)

My baby cries…

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Comments
  1. YAY a baby. :3

    And Larka is still funny even while giving birth.

    But mostly the baby. I am curious. I have a feeling that it a boy (like Cas) but we both could be wrong.

    I cant wait it see the next chapter 😀

  2. o H HH MY GOD BABY. YES.

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