Building 11 “A Mother’s Love”

As I have been looking for you I have been feeling more and more upset. It is a constant anxiety resting upon my heart, as the days tick down and down. Every time I knock on a new door, my expectations rise up, only to crash once I find another dead end.

So I did something desperate, something I don't think I was expecting I was going to do. After all that happened, I had imagined that my feelings about him would have convinced me that there was not a chance he would know where you are.

But I have been in a desperate place, and I know that I have tried so hard to find you on my own, and I have found nothing. So I went to the only place where someone may know where you are, no matter how remote that chance may be.

I went to see your father.

I suppose at some point you showed him a picture of me, because when he opened the door he recognized me instantly. He looked tired, wrapped in blankets and layers, like he hadn't been sleeping. The lights were off, and I couldn't tell if it was on purpose. It was in the dark that I noticed another shape, but I could not make it out.

The only thing I thought to ask, the only words that escaped my lips were simply “Where is Niomi?” My voice was harsher than I intended, demanding more than questioning. Just seeing him caused rage to build inside of me, as I thought about what he did.

I do not know what I expected. I think normally I build up conversations in my head before they happen, running through scenarios as I consider all the ways it could play out. But the action of seeking out your dad was unplanned, and so I had no expectations upon arriving. Even with that cold, empty slate, even with all the world acting as a distraction, still his words affected me.

Maybe that was what he intended.

Maybe he didn't care, or maybe he wanted to hurt me.

I asked him again where you were.

He said you were dead.

I cannot begin to tell you how that left me feeling. Even with all the love I know I have for you, my reaction surprised me. I started crying, the weight of all of my searching for a moment coming up as a effort wasted, and a truth that I didn't really want to know. I wasn't looking at him. I couldn't look at him. I simply looked off to the side, unwilling to lock eyes with the person who delivered such awful news. In my misery I looked at the shape in the dark.

My lover was dead, and I was never going to see her again.

I think my heart broke a little.

My skin burned as a muted simmer.

Then I started smelling batteries.

It was subtle at first, but then that metallic shock began to run over my tongue.

And I smiled.

A moment ago I thought you were dead, and now I was smiling.

“Liar,” I said, but not in my voice.

I knew you were not dead.

Somehow I knew.

I wasn't expecting him to speak. I was just expecting him to close the door and leave this bitch who had encouraged his daughter to wallow in her pain, alone on the doorstep. Instead he stepped outside, the harsh rays of the sun bathing him in red, rendering his brown eyes somewhere closer to black.

“I've seen that thing,” he said.

I looked up at him, confused. As I thought on it, horror filled me again.

I thought he was talking about you. But he wasn't.

The shape in the house began to speak, her voice like acid and nails on glass.

“Hurting me...forgivable...understood...”

She stood up, my body feeling the movement as she made her way to the door, her hulking, hunched form shifting in the lightless void, pulling the inky veil along with her as she made her way to the opening. As she moved, I heard her giggle, in a light, empty way. But there was another sound coming from her form.

It was whispering.

I could see the horror written across his face, his breath coming out quicker and heavier as she approached. It was like she was already next to him, like he had perhaps forgotten that he was alive, and now all that fear was coming back to him all at once.

“You were all she had,” she said

His hands were shaking, his body trembling. It was only then, as she leaned forward, that I saw her properly. He could not respond, his teeth chattering, his lips quivering as he began to sob uncontrollably.

The thing stepped forward, the smell of ink and sewage rising up from her form. But no. Like you, I know what she really smells like.

What she smells like.

She smiled, though making that out against the dark flesh was difficult. She placed her lips next to his ear, letting her arm come to rest on his shoulders as she murmured softly, but loud enough for me to hear.

I suspect she has repeated it to him more than once.

“You hurt...our little girl,”

And then, in a harsher, sharper tone, she said less of a threat, and more like a reminder.

“I can't...fix you...so I will hurt you.”

The love in here voice, somehow even with the malice and the threat of violence, her love for you still came through.

It was only then I realized your father's clothes were sticky with blood.

“We have...all the time...in the world.”

And thus with a movement I could barely follow she grabbed him around the waist, pulled him harshly inside with her, and slammed the door shut.

And then there was silence. But only for a moment.

All the time in the world.

That is all that is left. What time that exists is what will soon elapse.

And then it will be done.

Someone I know I will find you before the end.

I know it...deep inside.

I love you..

Please wait for me.