Please Kill Me Vol. 1 Chapter 2.7
“This year, the first snow fell early, Dahlia. The whole world has turned white…”
It was a morning when Lambert could no longer pick blossoming branches, and even the fragrant autumn herb stems, adorned with small flower buds, were covered in snow. I could only groan and moan, unable to even utter a word.
Suddenly, it felt as if my waist was about to snap. The frequent tightening of my belly and the lingering, pulling sensation had been dominating my lower body for a while, and the discomfort was intensifying. And then, in a single moment, I was overwhelmed by excruciating pain as if my whole body was going to split apart.
“Bite on this, Dahlia.”
Unbeknownst to me, I was already fiercely biting my lower lip, causing blood to flow. I struggled to push out the baby, wanting it to come out with all my strength, driving my fangs into the leather strap given by Lambert. I spread my legs and exerted force, but all I gained was an increasing intensity of pain, drenching my whole body in sweat, with no reward.
I’d rather be killed.
I pleaded with God, unable to endure this pain any longer. But I couldn’t even muster the strength to voice my plea. With my eyes still tightly closed behind the lace blindfold, I could sense that Lambert was crying. At some point, he had started crying more desperately than me. Even as I heard his cries, I resented him. I regretted every single moment I had enjoyed. A demon had taken residence in my heart, and that demon was prolonging the agony, tearing my body apart.
* * *
In the midst of the worsening agony, as I struggled in the stench of bitter blood and the tearing pain that ripped me apart, the image of my mother emerged before me, still obscured in my limited field of vision. She was the one who endured the bloody screams, trying to bring my baby brother into the world. I longed for her.
Her face vividly appeared as if in a hallucination. She suffered so much, carrying and giving birth to a baby like me, and eventually burying my newborn sibling in the ground, walking that long road to Hindleton on her own two feet. And she became a wet nurse, becoming the Count’s plaything every night.
Nevertheless, I had lived the joyful days where, even so, I could briefly indulge in being a young girl in exchange for my mother’s nights and her body. I longed for those moments. With my mother living right beside me, I could have regular meals, and at least during the day, it seemed like nothing bad could happen in the world. Lambert, by my side, existed as my closest friend, and all the butterflies and flowers of Secretia Woods would tickle us.
As I exerted all the remaining strength I had to push out the baby, determined to tear and penetrate my reproductive organs with fervor, I called out to my mother for the last time. I don’t know why I yearned to see her so desperately.
The night when my mother and I had to flee from Hindleton. The night when we attempted to survive by begging in the slums, only to fail and eventually head towards the infamous Hildesreville, came back to me once again.
“I will cover your eyes, Dahlia. Yes, I’m sorry. You should never have drunk what was contained in that teapot. No, no. You did the right thing by not drinking it, Dahlia. From now on, you must never undo it. Don’t open your eyes. Dahlia, my baby. I will never release you from this. And I will not wash you. Then you will be safe.”
Those words were essentially the last plea and sincere words I heard from my mother. After that, we spent the years together in the same room until I reached adulthood, but I hardly heard her voice. I only heard sporadic, fragmented cries.
In the end, my mother, after enduring countless paths that led her to death because of me, miserably and seemingly lifelessly passed away. In the midst of the wicked pain of giving birth to a new life in this world, I recalled the memories of all those cursed days. I was trapped in even more unbearable pain, making it harder to breathe.
Please let it end.
I longed for my mother as I cried out for it all to be over.
And finally, my daughter, Ines Elizabeth Rose, was born.
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A lazy cat who wants her honied indolence back. NOTE: Updates will be sporadic. Any of my novels will be updated randomly.