Prompt 1: It all Began at Birth

Every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated to do in their lives. Your first child has just been born with the mark of a murderer on her face.

It was in the winter months; a quiet night when you could look out the window and snow fell softly, creating layer after layer.  We had been so proud to give birth to our new baby girl. We had waited years for this moment.Maybe she would grow up to be an actress, maybe an adventurer or maybe, just maybe she would get the mark of a normal life and I would be okay with that, as long as it made her happy.  I knew soon it would fade anyway and it wouldn't bother anyone as much. It was seconds before we would find out and my mind was racing. When I looked up at my husband (who had the faded mark of a writer) I smiled only to see his eyes seeping out with tears; I would have thought it was from happiness if he hadn't gone over to sit down with his head in his hands. The nurse apologized to me over and over and I didn't understand until she handed me my baby girl. She had the mark of a murderer.  It's rare, not even most killers get it, but she had it.  I felt myself start to cry but I couldn't exactly get it out; I had felt the need to purge but that didn't exactly come out either. My daughter is going to kill. 

 

Her birthmark, clearly shown on her face, led to years of my trying to cover it up. I used makeup or kept her inside so that no one would see her mark and fear her.  I think this led her to see herself as a monster. She learned quickly to believe this and she began to fear herself.

 

At sixteen, her mark began to fade but we continued to worry.  We couldn't let her go out alone for fear that she might indeed follow through and kill.  As a result of this confinement, my husband and I became the only friends she would ever know and with that I became her best friend, we learned to love her more than anything and she became all we ever knew. 

By the age of seventeen her mark was almost gone, which was highly unusual seeing I still had mine at the age of thirty-nine. Her eighteenth birthday was coming up and she had told us she wanted to go out. I didn't see anything wrong with that, seeing as though we could cover her birthmark up with makeup. So it was set, we would take her to a theatre performance and then out to eat.  She had only done this one other time in her life and that was when she was ten.  We took her to a movie where a girl met a boy, a girl fell in love with the boy, and the girl lived happily ever after with the boy.  It was from that moment that our baby girl determined that she wanted to fall in love.  And that was when my dear sweet baby girl learned that life is certainly not like the movies.

 

We had spent all afternoon getting ready.  It was cold outside so we would take advantage of the chill, using scarves and mittens and long coats.  We tried on at least ten different coats, only to each use a long formal coat to cover up our sauvignon and black evening gowns. My husband dressed in a formal suit himself, admired us equally as we loaded ourselves into the vehicle to head to the theatre.

Once we arrived, we sat in the car for several minutes before even noticing that not one of us had even moved yet.   I looked at my darling family and smiled. 

"It's all going to be alright,” I whispered, “and if it isn't then we will remember it all as a funny memory."  I knew it was a lie; the thought that it would turn out to be funny and all. But truth be told, it fooled no one, it felt comforting however, to hear the words come out of my mouth.  It is like telling someone on death row that it's going to be alright as they are being lead to the electric chair.  In utter silence, we all got out of the vehicle atonce.  My husband held our daughter’s hand in his arm and I walked along on his other side trying not to slip on the ice. No one stared, they just glanced which reassured me that everything could turn out to be ok.

 

After purchasing the tickets, we sat down in our seats and waited for the production to begin. My darling girl looked around frantically taking in everything that was happening.  She hadn't been out in close to seven years and this is the first time social interaction had been available to her.  It was a full house so the seats filled up quickly and there wasn't one seat to be empty. My baby girl insisted she sit on the side where people could sit next to her and though I questioned my decision, I allowed her.  She was 18 after all.  My mind ran rampant with worry that someone could see her birthmark.  And what if they did see it? Would they think she was a killer; a murderer already? A young man about her age sat down next to her and she seemed quite oblivious, but I noticed his inability to stop staring at her. He had the mark of admiration. My mouth opened as I thought of how to broach the issue.  I asked her if she wanted to switch seats with me.  I went so far as to insist, and then her father did the same, but she was oblivious to our requests and assured us that she was fine right where she was.

 

The curtain rose as the production began and the young man, still having said nothing, looked to the stage. I felt relief but subconsciously still worried.  As she watched the play, my thoughts wandered to the possibilities of the near future; what if he played her or even worse what if they fell in love. If they fell in love it would ruin everything. Her cover would be blown, he would fear her, the world would fear her and we would have to move.  She would be all over the news; it would be catastrophic. 

 

During intermission I rose to use the restroom.  It took me awhile before I found it.  On my way out I saw my husband coming out from the bathroom. My heart stopped.

"Our baby girl!?" I whimpered? He shrugged.

"She told me she would be fine on her own for a short bit.  She is eighteen darling, we are going to have to give her space at some point.  We raised her right, she knows better than to talk to people."

"An admirer sat down next to her,” I explained to him.  At that we both rushed to our seats and there we saw it. Our baby girl was laughing and smiling as the young man held her hand and charmed her. For a moment I was in awe, maybe my girl could have a normal life, but in just moments I came to my senses. I sat down next to her as the show started up again and instantly she looked on toward the stage, acting as though she hadn't spoken to anyone. 

 

"Why would you break the rules?!" I screamed at her from the front seat of the car. She had no answer. "Do you or do you not know the rules?" I asked her, raising my voice even louder. 

"I do. . . but." She answered very quietly, I gave her little time to answer.

"But what?" I asked harshly.

"But he said I was the most beautiful girl he had seen and there are a lot of beautiful girls and for once I was out and my mark was hidden and a normal person for a couple of minutes and it all seemed so nice.  He liked me, and Mum, I felt like I was in a movie moment!" I didn't know how to respond without tearing down her memories; her ‘movie moment,’ but I didn’t have a choice.  "There is no such thing as a movie moment, and he was an admirer he does this kind of thing constantly,” I snapped.  It was harsh, but it had to be.  Everyone was quiet for the rest of the ride home. Happy Birthday to her!  What she didn't know was that an admirer only admired truly beautiful things and could never look past them. He really thought she was beautiful and she was.  The reality was, she was one of thee most exquisite beauties of the world, hidden away for no one to admire. No words were said through the rest of the night.

 

I awoke to loud knocking at the front door. I threw my robe on thinking that the mailman isn't usually this early. I opened the door and it wasn't the mailman. It was the boy from last night, holding flowers and wearing a dressed down kind of suit. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

"I've come here to visit my sweet, Elizabeth." The way her name came out of his mouth showed his love for her. How could he fall so quickly?

"You're sweet Elizabeth? How did you know where she lives?" I asked sorting this out in my head.

"She asked me last night to visit her." My mind was a jumble, but I was beginning to see the picture.  She was young, she was stupid and she was in love.  And could I blame her? 

"Come later please, or never come back again. Just please don't make her fall in love with you." I begged him and my voice cracked in fear.

"Sorry ma’am, but I think it's a bit too late for that." I felt my heart drop as I looked out into the morning and saw the sun shining bright. 

"Alright, come back later tonight and you can join us for supper." He nodded in agreement and went on his way, pleased with his reward.  I, on the other hand, fell to my knees and wept.. How could she do this? She promised she never would, she knew what dangers it brought to our family; to her.

The day went far too quickly and before I wanted, the afternoon was upon me.  I slowly prepared dinner and got ready as the world seemed to spin around me. I told Elizabeth to cover up her birthmark because we were having a guest and naturally she did, being excited over yet another public ‘showing.’  I put on my dress and walked downstairs to see my husband setting up for dinner. I opened the door before the admirer could knock and I showed him to the dining room.  Nervously he took his seat as I walked upstairs to get my sweet baby girl. I knocked and she didn't answer. I told her it was dinner time and she didn't answer. I opened her door invading her privacy and saw nothing but an open window and a rope hanging down to the yard below. In that moment the only thing I truly noticed was that it was raining and I was thinking, ‘why would she let rain get in on her wood floor?’ I suppose it kind of drove me crazy that she would do that, what kind of daughter would do such a thing to her mother’s house? It didn't phase me that she left.  It didn’t click until my husband came upstairs ten minutes later and he was asking where we were.  I couldn't speak, I was just staring at the rain as it hit the wood floor, beating at the grain and beading along the seams.   I don’t know how long I stood there just staring before it hit me.  At that moment, I pushed my husband aside and ran outside and into the rain.  The rain soaked me through, making my dress heavy as I searched for her in the field.  She wasn't there.  No matter how loud I cried; no matter how hard I looked, she wasn’t there.  Before I knew it I was in the middle of the field crying out but no one could hear me over the sound of the rain pouring down. I couldn't lift myself up.  I wanted to keep searching, but I was physically drained, emotionally dead and the dress I wore was saturated to the point of making movement nearly impossible.  The rain debilitated me, but worse it was washing away that hid her birthmark.  The people would see and they would be afraid and I was certain we would find her dead. She was hated, but she wasn't even a bad person, it was just a silly mark on her face. My husband and the young admirer tried to get me up after looking for me and Elizabeth for several hours. But I was numb; just laid there.  I didn’t cry, I didn’t speak, I just laid there letting the mud puddle around me.  My Elizabeth left me.