Such was the end…
‘Somebody get this thing out of me! I cannot stand the pain any longer! Take this thing away! It’s killing me! Let this finally be over!’
‘Poor thing…’ one of the nurses said in French to a friend. ‘She’s been giving birth for over twenty hours now. Her water hasn’t broken, so the doctor says to wait.’ She wiped the blonde woman’s forehead with a cold, wet handkerchief. ‘I’ll call the doctor. Please calm down. Just a little longer and you will be a happymother.’
‘You don’t know anything about it! I don’t want to be a mother! I just want to stop suffering! Bloody bitch!’ she cried to herself.
In her mind’s eye,she saw the face of the one responsible for her predicament.
‘Somebody bloody getit out of me! Where is the bloody doctor?!’
‘I’m here. Please calm down and don’t curse. You’re not alone here.’
‘Don’t keep blabbering at me, mister, just get the brat out of my body!’
The nurses looked at each other and shook their heads disapprovingly. The doctor finished the tests and looked at his patient.
‘I have good news for you. It’s opening. Please be prepared. When I say so, you’ll begin to push. Is that quite clear?’ he asked.
‘I’m not stupid!’ she shouted and started to whisper something in a strange and unknown language.
‘Very well, then… We’ll break through the foetal membrane so the water can break,’ he said firmly.
After a moment, the doctor made a small incision and looked with astonishment at the black liquid that flowed from between her legs. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’ The thought flashed through his head that the child’s life might be at risk.
‘When you feel a contraction, please tell me, and push. With all your strength,’ he asked, his voice trembling anxiously.
‘There it is!’ the woman screamed and closed her eyes.
‘Let’s push!’ he cried. ‘I said push!’
‘And what do you think I’ve beendoing this whole time, fool?! I’ve no more strength!’
‘What do we do, Doctor? I don’t think she’ll manage on her own…’ an older woman asked. Apart from her uniform, her head was covered with a grey veil that indicated she was also a nurse.
‘I’ll try to push it out, and you deliver,’ the doctor replied.
He stood next to the woman giving birth and rolled up her shirt. With his hands, he found where the child was and described the place from which it should come. ‘When the contraction comes, please try. I’ll help you,’ he told the one who was giving birth.
When he heard her scream and saw that she had begun to push, he quickly began to press his hands on her belly where the tiny little body ended and pushed it outside.
The woman fell onto the bed and closed her eyes, and when the midwife handed her the tiny bundle she took it in her hand, but turned her head in the opposite direction, as if she had no desire whatsoever to see it.
‘It’s such a lovely boy…’ whispered one of the midwives. ‘Just look at his beautiful blue eyes.’
When she heard that, she thought she was dreaming. Slowly she turned her head and looked carefully at the black-haired boy. A boy, whose little face was reminding her of someone… She quickly undid the clothes he was wrapped in.
‘What are you doing?’ exclaimed the nurse, wanting to take the child away from her.
‘Get your hands off me! I’m not doing anything to him! I just have to check something,’ she answered aggressively.
She unwound his diaper and was speechless. Under his heart he had a birthmark. A very distinct mark, as if someone had given him a tattoo. It was not its presence that surprised her, however, but rather the form it took. It had the shape of a sword whose shaft was entwined with a serpent. A good serpent… It was a misericorde.
She dressed the child and hugged him. She did this not out of a newfound love for him, but because it was the only weapon she possessed. A weapon no one knew about, and she intended to use it. She looked into his blue eyes and on her lips a smile took shape.
‘It’s not the end. You’ve won the battle, but only the battle… The war is still not over! It will last as long as I live,’ she shouted.
A moment later, the hospital room was filled with her evil laughter.
The senior midwife looked at her with fear in her eyes. At her beautiful face, immaculate, fair complexion, her full lips and the white hair flowing in curls down to her sleek arms and shoulders. But the old woman knew that what she saw was merely packaging. A beautiful box, empty on the inside. No feelings, no heart and no…soul. The woman in that room was as black as the eyes that looked down at the whimpering baby. She was sure of that, and her certainty was not upheld by belief or supposition, but rather the knowledge she no doubthad. She felt a shudder of cold, and fear like a bird flying past kissed her heart with its wings. She made the sign of the cross and as she went out, looked again into the multigravida’s dark eyes and thought of her children. The children whom she had brought into the world before. Fear gripped her heart at the very thought of who they could turn out to be with such a mother.
‘It has the appearance of an angel, but it carries a demon inside. This is not a mother. It’s…a monster.’
But… was it really the end?