It is about to be the tenth anniversary of the ceremony. The ceremony that was supposed to save us all, but instead brought an evil child into our lives that I had to kill. There was to be a celebration because on that day the plague just disappeared and everyone contaminated with it was fine. There have been no recurrences of the disease either. The priest told the truth. The worst part of this experience is that I am left with all of the memories of the future and old past. I pray that history doesn't repeat itself.
My husband has his suspicious of the caution I have been using lately. I do not know how much longer I can suppress this information I have from him. I love him with all my heart and cannot bear to lose him again. My daughter Lalita is growing swiftly, but normally, unlike Yaksha and Kalika. I have no fear that she will grow up happily.
Merchants will enter our village tomorrow for our celebration. I will not be going into town. I do not wish attend the entertainment. The night of that evil ritual still haunts my dreams. I wake sometimes from nightmares of the smile and the stench the yaskini brought with it. I remember killing the evil child with my father's blade. I remember the look my father gave me after I had completed the deed, the subtle glances the men who attended the ceremony gave me afterwards. I did not need to be reminded of that again.
I carry the weight of Yaksha's death alone. No one can understand why I did what I did. They were not there. I get to live my life again, free from the pain of abandoning my husband and daughter, free from the evil deeds that I committed throughout my incredibly long existence. At least that was what I believed.