The hands that cradle me are confident, protective. They lay me down gently. I relish the soft extravagance.
My body is new, fours days old, but my soul has been around for a while.
Centuries have gone by, and every time I return with a new plan, a thought over agenda.
The body recycles itself, yet the soul remains constant.
And in this new body I must justify my return, accomplish my sole purpose.
There is no mild way to say this. An eye for an eye, a life for a life.
I am a babe without words, but read my thoughts, and you will find pain and suffering.
The physical wounds buried with my previous body. A broken heart, bewildered brain, all dust now.
But my fractured soul seeks redemption. It will not forget the hurt and humiliation.
The air is cool, yet the warmth is inescapable. A secure home with loving parents. What else could a new life desire?
She has returned. My helpless cries bring her running every time.
I smell her skin. Peaches and strawberry. My mouth latches onto her, and I suck and swallow till I drain the milk from her bosom.
She sings to me. Her voice easy and pleasing. But this pampering cannot fool me. I know her for who she really is.
This woman, my mother, is the demon I have come to vanquish.
She gazes into my sleepy eyes. There I catch a glimpse of our past reality.
Those yellow eyes still haunt me. Twenty-three years imprisoned in a basement, tortured by a maniac, till faith and tolerance deserted me. Dumped in a ditch, never to be accounted for.
I will wait for the right moment. And then destroy her.
All this motherly love will be such a waste.
Her mother is lost in grief. She is bothered by the old woman’s sorrow. My Lack Of Understanding is a surprising revelation.