*untitled*

(Note: I have many untitled works, and this is one of them. This was written last July 15, 2008. Marj has already read this, and I know it's one story that she's not fond of, but it's okay, because I totally understand why. But hey, at least this is real fiction, not creative non-fiction, which I always seem to end up doing. :P I'm sorry I haven't had time to post sooner, and I haven't had any time to write lately, but I'm posting this here for you Abby and Bes, because I know you haven't read any of my works yet. It's perfectly fine even if, like Marj, you don't like the story too.ü Anyway, here goes:)

~*~

The moon cast soft yellow light beams into the room, forming shadows on the floor. In one corner of the room, Lia sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking herself back and forth while willing the tears away. Each teardrop seemed to be just a particle from a bucket of tears yet to flow. These tears soaked her clothes and occasionally made their way to form a puddle on the wooden floor when she turned her head sidewards. Even though the lights were turned off and the only way she could see things was because of the moonbeams, she could make out the bright red that stained the otherwise pristine wood. Blood. Mixed with tears.

She dreamed this before and she felt that it was bound to happen. Still, she did everything she could to keep it from coming true. In the here and now, she can feel herself raging with anger at the careless words she'd spoken, at the curses she'd uttered that had just come back to haunt her. The memories of that fateful night and the horrible days that followed flashed through her mind like a gruesome movie on perpetual repeat.

Her hair being pulled, her mouth covered by a handkerchief held by a man much stronger than she was. Darkness, silence. Pain upon her awakening, wishing she'd just slept for eternity. The discovery of her nakedness, making her aware that she had lost something much more than just her innocence. Been given a burden that was only hers to bear. Threats, slaps, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to break away from the harshness that is her own reality. And last was the sweet escape that turned out to be a nightmare in the making.

I did not kill you. I did not kill you. I only said I wanted to because you were borne out of a circumstance that was out of my control. I felt dirty and violated, and you were a reminder of that horrible night. But I did not kill you, I know I didn't mean to. Lia whispered the words over and over again, running her right hand through the blood puddle on the floor. I may have cursed you and said I wanted you to die and go away on your own, but didn't you know that I was half insane then?

I was half insane then... and I may be half insane now, Lia thought. She continued to run her right hand across the blood, knowing that this was supposed to be life. A baby, a child. Her own daughter. Even though the baby, or blood, or whatever it's supposed to be called technically has no gender yet, she knows it would be a girl. She knew it just as she knew that her curse will come true. She knew because she felt that bitter taste in her mouth the moment she uttered the words, saw the lightning flash through the sky in the middle of a clear and sunny day.

Lia stood up from her spot, gathered some cotton, and picked her favorite shoe box. Kneeling beside the red spot on the floor, she absorbed the blood with wads of cotton and put them gingerly inside the shoebox after she had lined the box with foil. When all that's left was a relatively large stain on the floor, she covered the box and wrapped it in brown paper. She took a pen with her as she felt she might need it, then made her way outside in the middle of the night.

She didn't even notice where she was heading until she was there. The foot of the mountain she had always climbed. Lia continued on walking, as if her feet knew exactly where to go and she had no choice but to follow. Through the trees, through the river, past the first rest stop of the mountain, she sat on top of the rock she always passed by when she hiked. She knew what she was about to do although she felt that there was somebody else controlling her actions because she simply didn't think about all this. Nevertheless, she was here now and her body seemed to know just what to do even though she's certain that she hadn't planned anything.

Taking the pen from inside her pocket, she wrote carefully on top of the shoebox:
Here lies an angel named Vida, who was never given the chance to live and whose only claim to life is her name.