Author's Notes: So, it's been awhile since I last uploaded anything! I've been trying to get back into writing again. In any case, this story is a new take on one of my older works- Die With Me - which isn't necessary to read, first or at all, but recommended as a sister piece to this one.
I believe I've improved as a writer, but this work isn't all that typical in style. Lots of commas! They're intended as more of a pacing guide... so while I welcome critique, please know the grammar was intentional. I'd love to hear thoughts on word choice and how believable the characterization is, in particular.
This story is dark, and utilizes both adult language and themes.
The need to strangle something is palpable.
She didn't eat, I know she didn't, you can't lie to me, stop, stop, "I'll kill you!"
...Sedation...
"Liar..."
...Awareness. It feels half empty. Everything feels that way.
Stomach. Head. Hands...Hands?
Asuka? Asuka Asuka Asuka Asuka "Asuka Asuka Asuka ASUKA ASUKA"
I'm screaming, until I see that little face pressed against the window pane. A hand reaches up as if towards me. Wide eyes...
Fucking brat getting her kicks on a mother's pain?
I'm out of the bed and stumbling to the glass of my room. I pound once before screeching wordlessly. The kid backs up a bit, eyes watering.
"Go away! Go away! Go!" I'm beating on the glass now, restless, "What kind of mother lets you wander in a hospital?!"
She jolts back, alarmed, but finally leaves. I know she'll be back. She always returns, to stand sullenly at my window after a day like today, or to sit watching from the bench outside. Once, that fucking idiot doctor brought her in my room...
"Bitch!"
The door opens. Speak of the devil! I can't help but laugh. The useless doctor, such a cool professional till I ruffle her. I went to college too, you know! I have a fucking Masters!
"Miss Kyoko, why are you-"
I tear at my hair, furious. "Mrs Soryu Langley! Langley!"
I swear she rolls her eyes. "Right, Langley. Why are you out of bed? Do you need anything?"
I'm frozen for a second before the screams resume.
"ASUKAAAAA!"
She looks shocked, but rushes around the room until she finds my daughter.
Aha! "Why were you hiding in the corner? Asuka?"
She looks a little shy as that bitch pushes her into my open arms, which are immediately wrapped around my baby girl.
My husband enters the room, frowning. I turn to him with a grimace. "Honey, she's so light. I keep telling them to feed her but she isn't getting any better..."
He pats my shoulder gently. "Asuka's a normal weight for her age. Go back to bed, love, and rest."
I let him lead us to bed. Asuka climbs in with me and snuggles into the crook of my arm. "...Really? She seems too small for three..."
"Four."
"Hm?"
"...Get some rest. I'll have a talk with the doctor about her diet, if you'd like."
I barely notice the IV anymore. When was the last time I slept without one? "Yes, please do. Goodnight darling." It's making me feel a little fuzzy around the edges. "Say goodnight to Papa, Asuka,"
Papa doesn't wait for it, he's already standing by that woman, taking her by the elbow. Too close, his head seems too close? Is it the haze? Or...
He leads the bitch away...by her syringe, I'm... holding our red... Asuka...she's so...tiny...
….
I think I dream. Red sphere, glowing brighter and brighter, and sounds dance around me, blaring alerts, colors scream in a downwards spiral as I go up, and up, and up out...
I'm on edge as soon as I wake up. My legs are spinning in circles around my covers, I'm pushing myself farther up the bed, and Asuka is crying, and so am I, but Asuka is crying and I manage to breathe again. After the first breath, I find the second. Lost the third, but I make it to the fourth, "Asuka?"
She quiets. No tears anymore. Her eyes focus low. But I hear calming breaths, and she's fine.
I'm caught on the remnants of a thought, but the pieces don't fit together right. My husband's face comes to mind. When's the last time she spent with her father?
Yesterday? No, no sunlight yet. Today? Earlier, he was here, I swear. I remember his hands.
Large, warm. On my shoulder... elbow? No. Not on my elbow.
I loved to touch him. Loved to? Love to. I still do. Yes. Yes, goddamn it!
My love. Present tense, possessive, singular. I remember. Current. True. Possessing, but also possessed.
But...
I sit a long time, but when I remember I'm thirsty, I forget what came before. "Doesn't need...?"
No matter. Drinking water. Asuka needs to stay hydrated too! I pass her the cup.
WET COLD WET WET FUCK
I'm screaming unintelligibly at her, impossible, useless, weak, Asuka, Asuka!
Her arm is easily encircled by my hand, and I wrench it down till she's forced to look me right in the eyes. I growl out a reprimand. Two or three, even. Throw her to the ground. Punishment! She doesn't even bother to move when I step on her foot, there on the floor.
"Good for nothing!" I stomp down, again and again. Grab a towel from the bathroom and rub down my chest. "I don't need...!"
But I do. I do need her. I know I do. I'm her mother, it's my duty! She couldn't survive without me! She needs me! To protect her from harm, to keep her safe, so she can live...! Asuka, Mama, Papa: a family.
It's a long time before I make it back to bed.
Mind wanders. Food arrives. I'm too distracted to worry about eating.
An offer? Or was it a demand? I don't remember anymore. Could only have been a few weeks ago, surely? Asuka just turned three...
Marduk reports that she was an ideal candidate, IQ test results, motor coordination and brain function above age level... Three years this past December! Big girl! Growing red curls...
A card. A small doll. Dolls for girls and action figures for boys. Maybe a son, next?
Next? No, next was a big doll. No, for boys, right? An action figure? Mecha? Robot. Production model.
Restraints... and skin.
My little girl, meant to get inside, to go into and be part of and hurt and alone with no protection, they have armor but no protection beforehand, just covers over useless flesh.
Asuka in danger, without me to watch over her. Because I abandoned her?
"NO! I didn't, I wouldn't, I won't ever, never ever, Asuka...!"
I feel like I could fight a thousand enemies right now, but no one comes. I'm out of bed though, and Asuka sits on the floor, safe, but alone, so I pick her up and cradle her, and we go back into the bed.
No IV means no sleep, but I rest my eyes. She's looking out at nothing every time I open them. Out towards the window. Waiting?
I feel agitated but fatigued. Nothing to do but think, yet thoughts and memories seem impossible to separate. That odd weightlessness... the taste and smell of blood... I check on Asuka, looking out the glass at nothing, and feel that same, siphoning pull. Did I melt into liquid? Dissipate?
They must be remnants of a bad dream. How could they be memories if I'm still here, holding my child? Holding Asuka?
I start to feed her from the cold plate left otherwise forgotten. Lunch? Dinner? When did I eat last? It doesn't matter. Asuka needs the sustenance. More than I do. She's so tiny and fragile! I want her to grow up healthy and strong. But Asuka's a fussy eater. She keeps staring out the window, ignoring the spoon I hold out to her.
I spare a glance, only to see that same, inescapable child. Standing there, looking almost stern in her sobriety. I vaguely wonder if she has family admitted here. Go bother them, instead! Don't stand there, judging me! Judging us! But I refuse to look at those eyes today. She can glare all she likes.
As incentive, I convince Asuka that the girl outside will make fun of her if she doesn't eat. This manages to goad Asuka into a few bites of her vegetables, despite her hatred of them. I know it's wrong as a mother to trick her this way, but I feel satisfied.
Throw out the unappetizing remains, get back in bed, snuggle in with Asuka. Maybe a bedtime story would please her? I'm about to speak when I realize I hear a voice already that isn't my own. No, voices? Yes, I'm sure of it. Man and woman, recognizable as familiar, yet unidentifiable. The sounds of speaking shift into moans of pleasure, of fucking, and then suddenly screaming, and I'm shocked to realize that Asuka is crying. She's wailing, high and loud, loud loud loud noise, keening.
Frantic, trying to calm her, I leap out of my covers and end up tangled in them with Asuka circled in my arms. She won't stop, even as I curl around her form, the sound muffled, but persistent, our faces wet, my throat feeling raw. I can't even form thought anymore, just rock my baby back and forth.
The bitch and my husband, looking for all the world harried and disturbed, are suddenly in my room. My own husband tears the sheets off me, trying to get me to straighten out on the bed, but I'm kicking and struggling away. The sound of my own cries rises above Asuka's, and drowns it out until I only hear my own shrieks. He finds some purchase, and rips Asuka, my daughter, our daughter, out of my arms before pinning me. I can't even make out the sound of her as she hits the floor, not even trying to break her fall, Asuka, little Asuka, our child.
Rage. Bubbling, boiling up. I feel a needle cut into my arm, as they strain to fight, to protect, to strangle. But my arms are worthless, just like me, like my daughter. I'm so overwhelmed by anger, but it's ineffective. I can feel my strength fading now, seeping out. Dissipating? I can't remember why the thought matters... but I'll remember this... that he doesn't need me... Papa doesn't... need us...
So let's die together...Asuka...