The Second Child

I’m not proud of it. Not really. I don’t think I’ve ever been, but really, after your first time, you realize it isn’t all that difficult. It really isn’t. The word may be mine, but it isn’t my hand that’s coated in crimson afterwards. They say once you're dead, there’s nothing left, no smile, no whisper, you're just a pile of flesh, but then why am I plagued with their voices even years later?

“Open up. We have to go.”

Evin. His voice never ceases to spook me. The glee with which he talks about this, our task, frightens me, but I can never let him know. Evin is a leech and would gladly suck my blood out had he a chance to do so. No, he can never know.

“Took you long enough,” Evin says as he pulls out a black ledger and points at it. “Get this, it’s twins,” he laughs as I stay silent. “I might just make the mother choose. Which one of her precious children will she say bye-bye to?”

Are you really going to let him do that? After everything? For once, don’t be so spineless. Before I can stop myself, my hand grips Evin’s, my fingers tightening around his wrist. “You’ll do no such thing.”

The smile drops from his face as he drags his arm away from my hold. “They’re vermin,” he sneers. He steps closer till there is only a fraction of space between us, whispering in my ear, “You know you ought to be more careful. If the wrong ear hears your pitiful sympathies, they might mistake it for treason.”

He’s right, he’s right, they are vermin. If it weren’t for them, there would be enough for everyone. It’s better to terminate them when they’re young. Fewer mouths to feed. One child’s enough. I repeat it like a mantra, one that I had never truly been able to internalize. The traitorous voice in my mind begs to be heard, leave them alone, they’re only children, but it has to be smothered, for I will not die for them.

In 60 seconds, it is over. All Evin needs is my word, and the moment it leaves my mouth, it is done. The child’s cries last only momentarily before all goes quiet. I don’t watch, I never do. Does that make me weak? I cannot say. Evin walks out, his face flushed red as he tosses his bloodied gloves next to my feet. “Woman’s absolutely mental. Tried attacking me.”

What else was she to do? Sit by as you and the others slaughter her child? Love and insanity often tend to conflate and fuse so that they become indistinguishable, but to feel either, you’d have to possess a heart, which Evin is famously known not to have.

“Next mission’s in your hometown.”

My head snaps towards Evin as if I had misheard him. “What?”

“Next. order. for. execution. is. in. your. hometown,” he emphasizes. Patting my shoulder, he continues. “Not to worry if it turns out to be someone you know, just run along and hide your face like you always do. Your word, my gun.”

I shrug his hand off of me, masking my face so as not to give away anything, but his voice calls out from behind.

“But just know, looking away doesn’t make you any less guilty. It’s my gun, but it is your word.” With that, he shoves past me and leaves me standing outside the rundown shack, surrounded by dry leaves and the mother’s broken cries.

The Order lets me go home early, congratulating me on yet another mission well done. They say, " Go meet your family. You’re their pride and joy, serving our great nation. They must miss you terribly.” I nod, wordlessly leaving. For how does one respond to that? How does one tell The Order that they’re harbouring vermin within their walls? That I, too, am a mistake. A second child. An invalid.

No, one cannot say that, not after the sacrifices made to save me. Instead, I go home. Home to the mother who took me up as her own. Pretended I was hers. I’ll go back to her, and we'll both act as if I haven’t become who I am, just so we can meet eyes.

I knock gently, doing the triple tap my ma taught me to let her know I am home. No answer. That’s strange, the laundry’s all out. She never leaves the house without bringing in the clothes. The windows are covered, too. “Ma,” I call out, knocking again.

Crunch. I look down at the outgrown blades of green and see my boot’s trampled on something. As I crouch down and take the sharp-edged pink and blue plastic in my hand, I realize this is mine. The remnants of my childhood, my first rattle. What’s it doing broken here? Has she, has mother been disposing of all traces of who I used to be? Maybe it’s easier that way. Yes, that traitorous voice whispers, if she forgets the baby she once loved, she can face the monster you now are.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, and there she stands. Her brown eyes puffy and dejected with streaks of gray in her dark hair. We looked nothing alike. I was lucky no one questioned it. Very lucky. Looking at her, I could tell she knew what I had been doing, yet her calloused hands found mine, and she pulled me in.

I hadn’t been home in years; perhaps that is why everything felt off. An assortment of boxes lay cluttered on the floor, clothes thrown astray, and there once again lay my old belongings from my childhood. My toys. Dark, it was dark, eerily dark. There was no room for any light. Really quite dark, dark enough to hide something. Hide. Hide away. Toys. My toys. Boxed up windows. Darkness. Hide. Hide it all. Then it hit me. It hit me hard what she was hiding. The toys, the darkness, it all made sense. No. No. No. I stood up, fisting my trembling hands. “Ma, what is it? What are you hiding?”

She stood facing the stove, a hand covering her mouth, as I pulled her towards me. The second her tearful eyes met my searching ones, I knew it was over, and I fell to my knees. My vision went blurry, and her voice became a distant noise. I pressed my nails into my palms just so I could feel something, pain, hurt, anything and then eventually I stood up. No emotion. Maskless. Stoic. Me. Just me.

“Where?” I asked, and she beckoned me to the other room down the corridor. And there, behind the closet, lay a sleeping child who could not have been older than a year. A second child. No. Her first child. Making me the invalid. The vermin.

I turned towards her, and her sobs grew louder as she gripped my arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she pleaded.

I shook my head and laughed. Laughed? I must be going crazy. “S’alright, I was never your son anyway. You didn’t owe me anything. He’s yours. A real, true son.” This just made her wail louder.

She frantically wiped her tears away as her warm hands found my trembling ones. “I won’t, I won’t say anything. Won’t tell them.” She stammered.

I peered at the child's brown fuzzy hair and dark eyes. He looked everything like her. Her real, true son.

Finally, I shook my head, my voice coming out strained. “You lie, they kill him. You tell the truth, they kill me. Either way -“

“Either way, I lose.” She finished.

Did she, though? Why would she cover for me after everything? Insanity. No. Love. But she doesn’t love you; you’re not her son. Love. Insanity. Love. Insanity. She hates you. She’ll sell you out. But love. She loves you-Love. The voices get louder and more unbearable. Stop. Stop. STOP. My hand hits the vase, and the glass comes shattering down, piercing through my soft flesh.

We stand there staring at one another, shards of glass littering the floor, until the door bangs. Once. Twice, and it doesn’t stop.

“Hide him, I’ll check,” and I hurry to the door.

Evin? Why is he here? He can’t have found out. No. Not so soon. Not yet.

“Why are you here?” I ask as I open the door.

Swatting my cheek, he pushes himself past the door and comes inside. “I had to see for myself where the Order's golden boy came from.” He looked around at the darkened shack, grabbing an apple from the table. “Humble beginnings, eh?”

“That’s enough.” I cut him off. “Where’s our task?”

“Someone’s eager. What happened? Reunion with your mommy didn’t go as expected.” He mocks. When I give no answer, he raises his arms in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. It’s not too far from here, it’s -“

His voice falters as he pauses, his eyes finding the thick red droplets dripping from my hand and staining the hallway. We stand there for a minute staring at one another before he shoves me hard into the wall and runs towards the end of the red dotted hallway.

It is too late. By the time I get there, he has found them. There she stood, my mother and my bro- her son. Her real son.

Pulling his gun out, Evin points it between the two of us. “You knew about this.”

“No. No,” her voice pleads. “He knew nothing.”

“Oh my. My my indeed.” Standing right before me, Evin guffaws. “What a dilemma.” My face remained stoic, and Evin gripped my shoulders. “Don’t be so solemn, I’ll let you say your goodbyes.” Bringing my face down, he whispered, “But remember if they run away, it’s your life I’ll pay with,” and he left the room.

I stand there. Quiet. Numb. The gash in my hand kept leaking. Raising my head, I look at her. Red-eyed, clutching her son. She hasn’t said anything. She didn’t sell me out. Yet. She didn’t sell you out yet.

“We will run away.” Her small voice whispers. “The three of us. They won’t find us. We can be together. Yes. Yes. She turns away, drawing out a bag and stuffing things in it. “We can use the back exit. It’ll buy us time.”

The truth is, though, she knows, and I know. We’d never survive. We’d die, but we’d die together like a family. The only family I had.

But I didn’t want to die. No. I really didn’t.

“You know The Order?” I begin. “They were right about one thing.” As she turns around, I reload the gun, pointing it right at her.

In that split second, I try not to look at how her features contort into a myriad of emotions. How her eyes gently flutter. How a single tear rolls down her cheek.

“We are vermin. I am vermin.” With that, I pull the trigger. My fingers don’t tremble. Another bullet goes off, and the child’s cries also cease. This time, I don’t even hesitate. Told you it gets less difficult. It does. It has to.

As I go to inspect the bodies, Evin walks in, glancing at the blood glistening on the floor. He grins and hoots, clapping me on the shoulder, but his voice drones out. My head feels heavy, and everything goes static.

All I can think of as I stare at my hands coated in crimson is that now she and I truly do share the same blood.