What's Mine is Yours

Just a small sample of a short story I am writing

Evie gave birth to a boy that morning and broke down soon after. A pensive two hours were spent in the hospital bed, her stare paralysed by disbelief. Her hands were rested on the sheet, cold and shivering, a warningly faint shade. The pain was unbearable; she could barely look at what she called, 'That Thing'. Her son's red eyes protruded out of his skinless face; his lifeless yellow arms lay limp by his sides, collecting a blue haze that would soon swamp his dead body. He was kept inside the incubator, not a word had been said since five minutes after the birth, and only horror had ascended throughout the room. He was in fact a harlequin - Krestan was sure it was because of it being half ill powered Lucan, half Astraeu. A strange amalgamation of the two had led to a sick, stillborn baby who he couldn’t even bear to call ‘son’; guilt callously itched him as he desperately tried to find something to say to his wife. He stood by the window, gripping the pane and anxiously looking from Evie to the people passing by outside. His nervous swallows were conspicuously audible, a reason for him to become more unsettled. For a creature that knew all, it was indistinct that his knowledge couldn't save his situation, a fact that wounded his ego, for he needed to console her. He paused to think for a while and cautiously sauntered over to her hospital bed, wrapping his finger round a strand of her dark hair and tenderly curving it round her ear, coming back to stroke her pale cheekbone in sympathy. Evie lay reticent, reluctant to respond to him. A cool tear slid down her face, abruptly stopped by Krestan's finger, just in time to be softly wiped away.

A choked whisper slid out of her lips, “I was going to name him Juro; after my dad.”

“Juro. That's beautiful,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Her eyes wandered over to his and she placed her hand over the finger that was still attached to her cheekbone. “I’m so sorry, Krestan. I’m so sorry.”

Krestan looked down, searching for a reply, before sighing in defeat. He gently removed his hand and took hers, caressing the ring on her finger, lightly touching each diamond and tracing his thumb across the bone and onto her fingernail; pressing it whilst he watched it turn white. “No. Don’t say that.”

“I should’ve waited.”

“It wasn’t a fault, or a mistake. It was the creation of two people who love each other.”

Evie blinked and snatched her hand back to join the other on the surface of her pained, swollen stomach.

“Is it love? Is that what you think it is?” Another tear raced across her cheek as her hand quickly darted to brush it away.

Krestan turned to look at her; a pained look dulled his blue eyes. “What are you saying, Evie?”

“Isn’t it just so you can destroy me? I loved you too much and let it happen. I wanted my own kind to destroy me first but-“

“What?” He raised his voice and transferred the tension in his fists to his jaw, “I have no intention of destroying you. You were the one who made the decision and had your own kind deteriorate your powers. All I did was act as a catalyst in order for you to be stripped of your abilities so I could convert you into one of us. I did it because I wanted to be with you and there was no way I could’ve done that with a fully powered Lucan.”

“Why did you even waste your time? What was the point in all of this?”

“Evie, I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to act as if this should never have happened. If you’re going to blame me..,” he paused to think and then sighed deeply. “I understand that you’re upset but please, Evie, don’t do this to me.”

She turned her face away and looked down onto her hands, running her thumb across the tips of her nails. “Krestan. The Lucana have decided not to deteriorate me.” She kept her gaze fixated on her hands and stopped breathing, waiting for the ball of iniquity to stop building up inside her throat. But she couldn’t hold it in any longer and slowly exhaled, the ball rising and hardening as she did so.

He placed his hands in his pockets and slowly paced to the chair opposite the hospital bed. He fell into it and placed his elbows onto his legs, cradling his head with his hands, rubbing the temples in despair. “What? When did they make this decision?”

“Before I became pregnant,” she hesitantly glanced over to the incubator, shuddering as she turned her head back.

“You honestly believed we’d have a healthy child by mixing our genetics?!” he struggled to remain calm and grasped the arms of the chair, sinking his nails into the leather. He snatched his fingers back and watched as the leather rose, revealing the permanent marks made by his frustration.

Her eyes remained stone cold and she stared at him blankly, no emotion detectable on her face.

“Please, don’t do this here.” She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes, she was in such a daze that her eyes were fixated on nothing, out of focus and bleary.

“This ill child is the result of your selfishness. You brought a sick child into the world and you knew this would happen. You knew otherwise you wouldn’t be sat here trying to defend yourself.

Krestan turned to look at the incubator; the glass was blurred by the light shining on it. “We can’t even bury it.”

“What?” She removed her hands from under the sheet and sat upright, wincing as the pain in her stomach followed her, gasping as the cramps raced down her back.

“If we bury the mixture of a Lucan and an Astraeu, it will form a lethal substance that would attack all of us. The soil reacts with the plasma in the outer coat of his body and the gas will kill every single living object on this planet.”

“Lethal substance? Necromite?”

“We’re cremating it. You don’t get to make the decisions anymore.”

“This is your son Krestan, you can’t.”

Evie sank bank into her bed, twisting her body around so that she was looking at the incubator. She used her hair to hide her face and pulled the sheets up to her neck. “Krestan, I need you to do something for me.”

He looked up and was surprised to see only half her head sticking out from underneath the blue hospital sheets. He picked himself up from the arm chair and stepped over to the side of her bed, placing one hand on her shoulder. “Anything, Evie.”

She lay in the same position and softly whispered, “When the time is right…“she hesitated then cleared her throat, ready to continue her sentence, “could you convert me to your own?”

“Evie, are you sure?”

“Why not? I can’t do this anymore, I want you, and I want a healthy child. I want happiness. I want you.”